tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23135048436658958222024-03-14T06:04:39.783-05:00Sharing Closet SpaceKatie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-15124080073560791662011-07-23T09:04:00.011-05:002011-07-24T15:31:31.500-05:00A Lived-In Living Room<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">I want to share with you a couple of updates we've made to our apartment over the past three months. For some <span style="font-style: italic;">before</span>-before pictures, check out <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/05/hello-may.html">this old post</a>.<br />
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This week, I accomplished something I'd been thinking about since before we even moved. Residing in our living room is my couch from college. It's actually a couch I inherited from an older roommate, and I'm pretty sure <span style="font-style: italic;">she</span> had inherited it as well. I'm really not sure of this couch's origins, but let's just say that it is showing it's scars. As a matter of fact, I just looked through <span style="font-style: italic;">all</span> of my pictures, and could not find a single picture of this couch in its original state. This means that never once did I find it at all suitable, even for a post-AYCD night picture in college.<br />
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However, it's a couch. And we need a couch. And would prefer not to buy one (yet). So, I gave it a makeover.<br />
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The first thing I did was buy <a href="http://www.target.com/Simply-Shabby-Chic-Loveseat-Slipcover/dp/B00284LMJY/ref=sr_1_12?ie=UTF8&searchView=grid5&keywords=slipcover&fromGsearch=true&sr=1-12&qid=1311516867&rh=target_com_brand-bin%3ASimply%20Shabby%20Chic&searchRank=target104545&id=Simply%20Shabby%20Chic%20Loveseat%20Slipcover&node=1038576%7C1287991011&searchSize=30&searchPage=1&searchNodeID=1038576%7C1287991011&searchBinNameList=subjectbin%2Cprice%2Ctarget_com_primary_color-bin%2Ctarget_com_size-bin%2Ctarget_com_brand-bin&frombrowse=0">this super-cute slipcover</a> from <a href="http://www.target.com/b/ref=pd_sim_cat_1_3?ie=UTF8&node=13880401">Target's Simply Shabby Chic</a> line. However, when I tried to stuff the back cushions under the slip cover, it looked like... well, I can't think of a PC description, so we'll just say I was not a fan. I knew I needed new cushions, and decided I could easily make them myself. You see, back in the day, I had a business. Yes, the year was 1995, and I spent the summer selling homemade Beanie Baby beds on the corner. Every afternoon, I would wheel my red wagon filled with little pillows and sleeping bags down the neighborhood street, and do business with the community Beanie Baby fans. And, because I know you were wondering, yes, they did come in sizes (regular and teenie).<br />
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Due to all of this pillow-stitching and -stuffing experience, I felt confident in my ability to make new couch cushions. All summer I've been planning this in my mind--looking at fabric, pricing European pillows, and playing with color combinations. Through the planning, it seemed as though the pillows themselves would run about $20 a piece (and I needed five of them), then it would take about 2 yards of fabric per pillow, not to mention the fact that I'd need to coerce my mom into helping me set up and thread her serger (which is a pain in the *&@). Plus, in all honesty, I had to admit that the likelihood of my actually creating five pillow shams successfully was slim-to-none, meaning I'd need to splurge on at least four extra yards of back-up fabric.<br />
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However, I was determined. Until I went to Bed Bath & Beyond, found the pillows on sale for $10, and shams on clearance for $5. I bought three of those, and splurged on two fancier accent pillows, thereby transforming our couch.<br />
</span></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BTysmdfSUBU/TiwtOIxMODI/AAAAAAAAADk/HCq1BGD1Ci4/s1600/Old-New%2Bcouch%2Bcushions%2Bcopy.jpg"><br />
</a><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">P.S. In the 1.5 months that I was out of the blogging world, Blogger changed their picture-uploader and i <span style="font-style: italic;">do not</span> like it. I apologize for the super-blurry pictures that I worked really hard to create in Photoshop. I need to figure out this new system.<br />
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">I am so excited about our "new couch" because it has really transformed our living room. Check out the difference between our living room in April, and our current room.<br />
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</span></span></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O9jyNYMjjO8/TiwutYtU9LI/AAAAAAAAAD0/9rTZ_HLpH68/s1600/April-July%2BLiving%2BRoom%2Bcopy.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632928591195206834" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O9jyNYMjjO8/TiwutYtU9LI/AAAAAAAAAD0/9rTZ_HLpH68/s320/April-July%2BLiving%2BRoom%2Bcopy.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 185px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 522px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;">You will also notice the addition of the shelves and picture frame above the couch, and the new curtains. This isn't the greatest picture of the curtains, but I love that they tie the green and creamy-white of the couch with the blue of the arm chair. Oh, and then there are the candles in the fireplace, which I <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span>. They're just there for the summertime; with these 100+ degree heat indices, we really have not been wanting any fires.<br />
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I need some advice on another aspect of this room, and this is where you come in.<br />
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</span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--8x0XANIczo/Tix14HPnojI/AAAAAAAAAD8/pd5g--anh3c/s1600/Blank%2BFireplace%2BWall.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633006840811332146" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--8x0XANIczo/Tix14HPnojI/AAAAAAAAAD8/pd5g--anh3c/s320/Blank%2BFireplace%2BWall.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a> <span style="font-family: verdana;">We have this huge empty space above the fireplace. And while I fully intend to paint soon, which will diminish slightly the glaring-white effect, I need to put <span style="font-style: italic;">something</span> there. I originally pictured a big, round, ornate mirror. Maybe with some rustic-looking swirly-ness around the outside. But, at the same time, that seems a little overdone. Anyone have a more creative idea?<br />
</span>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08949698334615362498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-10401702644833840162011-07-22T08:07:00.020-05:002011-07-22T09:23:36.835-05:00A Wedding Whirlwind<span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Now that I'm back in the blogging world, let'</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">s rewind and recap the big event on June 11. You'll remember our long <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/p/to-do-list.htmlhttp://">to-do list</a> (that <span style="font-style: italic;">did</span> all get done!), the <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/p/vendors.html">vendors</a> we worked with, the <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/02/missing-earrings-disappearing-salons.html">wedding nightmares</a>, our <a href="http://http//sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/arts-and-crafts-night.html">DIY projects</a>, <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/cookies-and-centerpieces-and-banners-oh.html">banners</a>, <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/cookies-and-centerpieces-and-banners-oh.html">centerpieces</a>, and <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/cookies-and-centerpieces-and-banners-oh.html">favors</a>, as well as the <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/04/youre-invited-probably.html">invitations</a>, and the <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/04/ring-ding-ding.html">rings</a>. Well, I'm happy to report that it all went according to plan. Literally. It all went <span style="font-style: italic;">perfectly</span>. I'm not sure what percentage of that was my stellar planning skills, and how much was</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tvjJbWyQAZA/TimBOJBWlJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/1hAypFUWbxQ/s1600/first%2Bkiss.jpg"><br /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> just pure luck, but the day cou</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">ld not have been any better.<br /><br />The weekend actually began on Thursday night, when out-of-town guests started to arrive. I remember being somewhat surprised when we walked into B's</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tvjJbWyQAZA/TimBOJBWlJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/1hAypFUWbxQ/s1600/first%2Bkiss.jpg"><br /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> parents' house for dinner that evening and a large group of his California relatives were there. <span style="font-style: italic;">Wow!<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span>I thought. <span style="font-style: italic;">This is it! This is actually happening<span style="font-style: italic;">!</span></span> Somehow, seeing these relatives made me realize the reality of</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tvjJbWyQAZA/TimBOJBWlJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/1hAypFUWbxQ/s1600/first%2Bkiss.jpg"><br /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> the situation. And it only got better. I can honestly say that was the best part of the w</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">ee</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">kend--getting to see friends and family that we visit with so infrequently all there together to celebrate our big day.<br /><br />I'm fairly certain that we had one of the biggest rehearsals ever to happen at GCPC. Since so much of our family was in town, they pretty much all showed up at the church, whether or not they actually had a role in the wedding.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-863cqge3Ewk/Til6nVjTxeI/AAAAAAAAABE/WrqF6oK14G4/s1600/Wedding%2BParty.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-863cqge3Ewk/Til6nVjTxeI/AAAAAAAAABE/WrqF6oK14G4/s320/Wedding%2BParty.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632167625222243810" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e7xH_1ujtj0/Til5utFOIwI/AAAAAAAAAA0/kGK8PFF-EkU/s1600/People%2Btaking%2BPictures.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e7xH_1ujtj0/Til5utFOIwI/AAAAAAAAAA0/kGK8PFF-EkU/s320/People%2Btaking%2BPictures.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632166652285952770" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SR4I0kmt2i0/Til6COGTpdI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-gSRNi9Ktqo/s1600/practice%2Bvows.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SR4I0kmt2i0/Til6COGTpdI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-gSRNi9Ktqo/s320/practice%2Bvows.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632166987566392786" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">The dinner was wonderful. Since we had originally wanted to have Spin! Pizza for our rehearsal dinner (long story...), the chef at the </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://doubletree1.hilton.com/en_US/dt/hotel/MCIMSDT-DoubleTree-by-Hilton-Hotel-Kansas-City-Overland-Park-Kansas/index.do;jsessionid=CFA1329238C462235A61FA9BAF73EBD8.etc32">Doubletree</a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> agreed to</span><span style="font-family:verdana;"> go off their regular catering menu and whip up some flatbread pizzas for our party. Complemented with toasted rav, chicken fingers, fruit, and cookies, our "finger food" rehearsal dinner turned out fabulously.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w-We2TLlmpE/Til7StyIDXI/AAAAAAAAABM/9AQkCiNTgsU/s1600/centerpieces.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w-We2TLlmpE/Til7StyIDXI/AAAAAAAAABM/9AQkCiNTgsU/s320/centerpieces.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632168370461216114" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Brandon's mom did these centerpieces--don't they look great? And now we have a plethora of bud vases left over. Good thing they're en vogue.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8f-vSPibTVw/Til8I4Xl3RI/AAAAAAAAABU/vqFDQcW3DAc/s1600/Gifts%2B3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8f-vSPibTVw/Til8I4Xl3RI/AAAAAAAAABU/vqFDQcW3DAc/s320/Gifts%2B3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632169301015649554" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>We used some time at the dinner to thank our wedding party and our parents. These gorgeous flower arrangements were done by <a href="http://www.kcflowergirl.com/#/home/">our florist</a> in <a href="http://www1.macys.com/catalog/product/index.ognc?ID=536222&CategoryID=55973#fn=sp%3D1%26spc%3D533">these gorgeous vases</a> from <a href="http://macys.com/">Macy's</a>.<br /><br />Our flower girls (all four of them!) got <a href="http://www.personalizationmall.com/Personalized-Flower-Girl-T-Shirts-p10849.prod?sdest=dept&sdestid=1224&storeid=7&categoryid=1224">T-shirts from PersonalizationMall.com</a> that say "I'm in Charge of the Petals", and our ring bearer's says "I'm in Charge of the Rings". The shirts are personalized with their names and the date. We even customized the hair color of the little character on the shirt. They turned out super-cute.<br /><br />I gifted my bridesmaids with monogrammed tote bags from L.L. Bean (no longer available, but similar to <a href="http://www.llbean.com/llb/shop/67892?feat=677-GN1">these</a>), as well as bedazzled "bridesmaid" t-shirts. And Brandon gave his groomsmen each a nice bottle of sustenance for the weekend.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HBoLiV0zYTw/Til40xnYIDI/AAAAAAAAAAs/HyP3qexKHio/s1600/Whole%2BGroup%2BOP%2B2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HBoLiV0zYTw/Til40xnYIDI/AAAAAAAAAAs/HyP3qexKHio/s320/Whole%2BGroup%2BOP%2B2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632165657070542898" border="0" /></a></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">That night, a bunch of our friends and cousins hung out at The Other Place. We love this group picture of so many of our favorite people at one of our favorite bars.<br /><br />As I already mentioned, everything came together for a perfect wedding day. I feel so blessed that I remembered my earrings, got my hair done on time, and actually showed up to the wedding--all nightmares I was scared would come true.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QF2Y3pOOaD4/Til_gfO1nbI/AAAAAAAAABc/3txe9Suw2TE/s1600/Mom%2Blacing%2Bmy%2Bdress.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QF2Y3pOOaD4/Til_gfO1nbI/AAAAAAAAABc/3txe9Suw2TE/s320/Mom%2Blacing%2Bmy%2Bdress.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632173005119790514" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Mom was the best at lacing up my dress. I'd say "Pull tighter!" and she'd yank and pull until I could hardly breathe. (My MOH did have to loosen it after dinner.)<br /><br />These next few pictures are from our <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/06/so-week-has-finally-arrived.html">Private Reveal</a>.<br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G91J5f8tTVo/TimBNHra_EI/AAAAAAAAABk/cO1U8A77FIo/s1600/RVR_110611_0042.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G91J5f8tTVo/TimBNHra_EI/AAAAAAAAABk/cO1U8A77FIo/s320/RVR_110611_0042.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632174871402970178" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TUmC3KKNUEk/TimBNdyXRpI/AAAAAAAAABs/cdubVYC8VI8/s1600/RVR_110611_0043.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TUmC3KKNUEk/TimBNdyXRpI/AAAAAAAAABs/cdubVYC8VI8/s320/RVR_110611_0043.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632174877337667218" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nZ0dtxb5tZ8/TimCsXLvTUI/AAAAAAAAACM/buKoAc-7b00/s1600/RVR_110611_0079.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nZ0dtxb5tZ8/TimCsXLvTUI/AAAAAAAAACM/buKoAc-7b00/s320/RVR_110611_0079.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632176507652623682" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">And these next couple show proof--we did it! We're married!<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tvjJbWyQAZA/TimBOJBWlJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/1hAypFUWbxQ/s1600/first%2Bkiss.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tvjJbWyQAZA/TimBOJBWlJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/1hAypFUWbxQ/s320/first%2Bkiss.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632174888943260818" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l04FdLvyby8/TimBOausIZI/AAAAAAAAACE/hKcPgX4egvg/s1600/RVR_110611_0536.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l04FdLvyby8/TimBOausIZI/AAAAAAAAACE/hKcPgX4egvg/s320/RVR_110611_0536.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632174893696819602" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Our one bad wedding decision? Birdseed. After being pelted with those hard little orbs, I had birdseed wedged in every crease and crevice of my dress, glued in the hairspray in my up-do, and even down my dress, staining the skin of my stomach. Oh, and I forgot to mention that somebody didn't even open the bag first. Yeah, really...<br /><br /></span> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kchSd3f6Os4/TimDZWWwtwI/AAAAAAAAACU/hYQjFt47HjI/s1600/birdseed%2B2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kchSd3f6Os4/TimDZWWwtwI/AAAAAAAAACU/hYQjFt47HjI/s320/birdseed%2B2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632177280524531458" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">In the end, our centerpieces turned out great, the Dairy Queen ice cream cake was a huge hit, my DIY banners and place cards were bright and colorful.</span><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-ocmAMoD-c/TimFB78pI-I/AAAAAAAAAC8/oLvxnPjmf0k/s1600/RVR_110611_1094.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-ocmAMoD-c/TimFB78pI-I/AAAAAAAAAC8/oLvxnPjmf0k/s320/RVR_110611_1094.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632179077321925602" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2y_E87vNM-M/TimFjRuei8I/AAAAAAAAADE/3AjOfdJVn5U/s1600/RVR_110611_0997.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2y_E87vNM-M/TimFjRuei8I/AAAAAAAAADE/3AjOfdJVn5U/s320/RVR_110611_0997.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632179650103774146" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bq6xSR8CcXg/TimFBXuz3gI/AAAAAAAAAC0/yhD8EFkH-FE/s1600/RVR_110611_0972.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bq6xSR8CcXg/TimFBXuz3gI/AAAAAAAAAC0/yhD8EFkH-FE/s320/RVR_110611_0972.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632179067600231938" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-64DYnDrdQl4/TimFjli5emI/AAAAAAAAADM/DgUkgLinsN0/s1600/placecards%2Bbanner%2Band%2Bguestbook.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-64DYnDrdQl4/TimFjli5emI/AAAAAAAAADM/DgUkgLinsN0/s320/placecards%2Bbanner%2Band%2Bguestbook.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632179655423916642" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SfbsALJplgQ/TimHezYckBI/AAAAAAAAADU/du3cetREUmo/s1600/RVR_110611_1602.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SfbsALJplgQ/TimHezYckBI/AAAAAAAAADU/du3cetREUmo/s320/RVR_110611_1602.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632181772262084626" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6deBIUNDBTo/TimHfJkQ8UI/AAAAAAAAADc/mBPX7rL2QBQ/s1600/RVR_110611_1606.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6deBIUNDBTo/TimHfJkQ8UI/AAAAAAAAADc/mBPX7rL2QBQ/s320/RVR_110611_1606.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632181778217234754" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">So, there it is folks. Our wedding in a whirlwind of a blog post. Don't worry--it was that much of a whirlwind for me, too. Last night, we finished our last batch of thank-you notes (I know, we took a little too long. Sorry, Miss Manners.), and I completed making our 75-page wedding album on Shutterfly. Those were the last of our wedding-related tasks to be completed, so I guess it's officially over.<br /><br />The good news is that now I'll be one of those women who, looking back over the years, will be able to say, "Our wedding was perfect. It was the happiest day of my life." And I'll really mean it.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">P.S. We purchased the rights to all of our photographs from <a href="http://www.rvrphotography.com/index.html">RVR Photography</a>, but I'd still like to offer them kudos and a huge THANK YOU for the beautiful images. Not all of these in this post are theirs, but some are.</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08949698334615362498noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-56699782917067835752011-07-21T08:15:00.003-05:002011-07-21T08:50:04.801-05:00My First Lesson in Marriage<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I'm happy to report that we've made it through 5 1/2</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> weeks of marriage. Life doesn't feel too different, except for the fact that I now introduce B as "my husband", which takes some getting used to. Not that I expected it to be any different, but I would liken getting married to celebrating a milestone birthday. There was no overnight change in our relationship, just as there's never any overnight aging realized the morning of a birthday. As a matter of fact, the morning after our wedding, we headed back to our apartment from the honeymoon suite at the Doubletree. We opened the</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> door, dropped our bags, and looked at each other. "Well, I'm going to take a shower," I said. "I think I'll start a load of laundry," B said. And we went about our business.<br /><br />However, even after dating for four years before getting married, I'm learning things about B that I didn't know before. I knew that B was a naturally cleaner person that I am. My first clue into this reality was once when I was helping him clean his old room, and he assigned me the task of dusting the power cords. <span style="font-style: italic;">Who does that??</span> So, although I had fair warning, I'm not sure I realized the extent of B's cleanliness.<br /><br />Let me paint you a picture. I wake up in the morning, stumble out of bed, generally to the bathroom or to the kitchen for a glass of water. By the time I return, B has made the bed and placed his neatly-folded pajamas on top of his pillow. Then, we head into the kitchen where I make a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries, and settle into the couch to watch GMA. B finishes eating his Cheerios and Bagelthin, jumps up, and washes his dish and my bowl before the first commercial break. "I'm happy to do my dishes, babe," I say. "I know, but I don't mind!" he answers. However, I'm beginning to realize that it's more his not being able to stand my dirty bowl sitting on the coffee table in front of me for the next half hour than anything else. After B leaves for work, I usually hit the gym and run some errands. When I return home, usually in the early afternoon, B has been home for lunch, emptied the dishwasher, started a load of laundry, and put away his clean clothes from the day before. Wow!<br /><br />Don't misread my commentary. This is certainly not a <span style="font-style: italic;">fault<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span>of my hubby's. I LOVE that he helps around the house and is so organized. The "problem", if you can even call it that, is that this talent so does <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> come naturally to me. It never has. Growing up, the cleanliness and organization of my room was a constant battle between my parents and me. They <span style="font-style: italic;">tried</span> to help, and <span style="font-style: italic;">tried</span> to instill a sense of responsibility when it came to the subject--but it just didn't work. In <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/in-mood.html">this post</a> I touched on the fact that my mom was never really into the stereotypical home-making or home-decorating. And, although I want to <span style="font-style: italic;">have</span> a clean, inviting home, I truly just do not know <span style="font-style: italic;">how</span> to make it that way.<br /><br />Instead of feeling inadequate about this (which I totally do), I'm trying to view this as something I can learn from B. After all, there are many, <span style="font-style: italic;">many</span> (MANY!) things he can learn from me :-)<br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08949698334615362498noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-3549144664249411872011-06-09T09:57:00.001-05:002011-06-09T17:56:46.817-05:00Timing is Everything<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;">You might remember back in February when I was really stressed out, and then we had <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/02/shedding-new-light-on-our-living.html">a stroke of good luck</a>, which resulted in a new apartment and <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-day.html">a new job</a>. I can now say with certainty that God has a sense of humor.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;">If you know me, you know I'm <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/shrek-third.html">not naturally a sit-back-and-see-what-happens kind of person</a>. I'm a go-getter; if I want something to happen, then I make it happen. However, you also know that I <i>try</i> to combat my tendency to take this personality trait to the extreme--and sometimes life (God) has a way of keeping me in check.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;">I've been totally on top of this whole wedding business. I mean, seriously, check out my <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/p/to-do-list.html">to-do list</a>, and tell me that you're not impressed. I've even had time this week to spend extra time at the gym, watch some Netflix, and take my <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/p/delilah.html">baby D</a> for plenty of walks.</span></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"> I can credit my organization to my need to feel in control. <span style="color:magenta;">I love things (like my wedding) that I can control.</span> I can stay relaxed, knowing that I've done everything I need to do in <i>plenty</i> of time, and I don't need to worry.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;">What <i>bugs</i> me is when there's something I <i>can't</i> control (i.e. an airplane, the weather, my immune system, and <span style="color:magenta;">A JOB SEARCH</span>). However, as all of us searching for employment in this crazy economy know, it's just not that simple.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Recently, I'd been feeling pretty down about the whole job situation. "Don't take it personally," a co-worker kept telling me. But it's <i>hard</i> not to take it personally. I knew it wasn't too late to be hired for next year, and I knew I had other opportunities to fall back on, but <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/generation-millennial.html">I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it--which was NOW</a>. A good friend of mine signed a contract with an area school district a couple of weeks ago, and I immediately started kicking myself. <i>Why didn't I apply with that district? What had I said in my interviews I'd had so far that had turned the interviewers off? Was it because I had stumbled over the reading instruction question? Dang it, I had a better answer to that.... Maybe I could email that interviewer and tell him what I meant to say... </i></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Another co-worker kept reminding me, "You have so many wonderful things going on in your life right now. Concentrate on those things. You're living such a blessed life." <i>Yeah, yeah, yeah</i>. That wasn't working.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;">I finally came to a point where I had accepted reality--for the most part. <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/06/so-week-has-finally-arrived.html">This week</a>, I've been focusing on the wedding and my upcoming marriage, packing for Hawaii, and looking forward to seeing all of my extended family come together this weekend. I had almost forgotten about the job search <span style="color:magenta;">(</span><i style="color: magenta;">almost</i><span style="color:magenta;">)</span>. Then, on Monday, I got a call for an interview. Not another screening interview, but a real interview for a real teaching position with a real principal at a real school. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;">To be honest, my first thought was, <i style="color: magenta;">This week??? Really???</i> But I quickly re-adjusted my priorities and spent my ample free time (haha) updating my portfolio, and formulating strong responses for those questions I knew they'd ask. </span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;">I'd hardly even mentioned my interview to anyone because I didn't want to jinx myself.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;">And this is the part where <span style="color:magenta;">God says, "I </span><i style="color: magenta;">told </i><span style="color:magenta;">you I'd take care of it."</span> Yesterday, I aced my interview, and by the end of the work day, HR had called and offered me the position. I literally could hardly believe it. B was, of course, at the gym. After calling my mom, my aunt, and my best friend, I paced the apartment like Scrooge waiting for Bob Cratchit the day after Christmas. As soon as D whined at the window (my never-failing alarm that B has pulled into the parking lot), I flew down the stairs of our building.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span style="color:magenta;">I got the job, I got the job!!</span></span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-67372336346650879072011-06-07T19:56:00.001-05:002011-06-07T21:01:24.069-05:00Staying in the Game<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, the week has finally arrived. I'm holding it together surprisingly well. Yesterday morning I was watching an episode of Bridezillas, and amidst those brides yells, screams, and demands, I began to wonder if possibly I just wasn't taking this seriously enough. Then, one of the brides blew a gasket because she ran out of money before she had her nails done, had no plan for the reception hall set-up, and went off on her MOH the morning of the wedding. I decided that, probably, I actually have the right idea this week...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now, this doesn't mean I'm not running around with 52 million things on my to-do list. (Actually, <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/p/to-do-list.html">the list</a> is coming along quite nicely.) Plus there are all the little things that weren't on the original list--things I need to pick up for the honeymoon, baby-sitting jobs that I couldn't pass up, and a job interview. (That's all I'm saying about the interview. I <i>refuse</i> to jinx myself.)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It seems fitting at this point in the game to look back at <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/02/focused-on-prize.html">my first blog entry</a>. (Being the adoring, dedicated readers that you are, I'm sure you didn't even have to click back on that link, as you have it completely memorized from all the re-reading you've done over the past three months.)</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Even amidst all this craziness that comes with having less than five days (FIVE DAYS!) left until the wedding, I am still trying to keep my focus on the most important part of the day--my relationship with B.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A few weeks ago, when we were looking over the schedule of the wedding day, we decided to forego the tradition of not seeing each other until the Big Moment when I walk towards him down the aisle. After talking with some friends who recently got married, we decided to do what I believe they call a Private Reveal instead. How it'll work is that about 1.5 hours before the wedding, B will stand, in his tux, at the altar, and on the count of three (okay, I don't know if anyone's actually going to count), we'll turn around and he'll see me walking down the aisle toward him. Then, we get to take about half an hour to just talk and be excited together about our big day. This will be the only time we get to spend alone all day, and in making this decision, I realized it was important in keeping the focus in the right place that day.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Until that half hour, we'll be rushing to and fro amongst our <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/p/vendors.html">vendors</a>, packing for Hawaii, and trying to squeeze in as much family time as possible. (Well, okay, and after that half hour too!)</span></span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-21517561052269442712011-05-30T11:06:00.000-05:002011-05-30T11:06:07.975-05:00Dousing Old Flames<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">As we get closer and closer to the wedding date, I find myself pondering the commitment we're about to make. Every time I thought I had it figured out before then, I turned out to be completely wrong. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">(Cue Rascal Flatts' "Bless the Broken Road".)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">I started out with the right idea in middle school, when I went for <span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;">the nice guy</span><span style="color: black;">. However, he was a little <i>too</i> nice--I quickly got tired of holding hands timidly during movies, and was soon swept up into a whirlwind romance with an <span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;">older man</span> <span style="color: black;">(yes, he was in <i>high school</i>). However, this Spring Break romance didn't last long past my first kiss on the cruise ship. That summer, there was the<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;">guy from camp</span><span style="color: black;">. But, we lived half an hour apart and had to depend on our parents to cart us to and from dates, so that didn't last too long. As sophomore year began, so did my far-too-long tumultuous romance with <span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;">the debater</span><span style="color: black;">. Late-night phone calls, controlling parents, and sneaking around satisfied the drama I craved at this point in my life, and lasted through most of my high school career.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">During our off-seasons, there was </span></span><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">the airplane guy</span><span style="color: black;">, <span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;">the band geek</span><span style="color: black;">, and <span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;">the co-worker</span><span style="color: black;">. Freshman year of college I repeated the cycle; again, we had <span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;">the nice guy</span><span style="color: black;"> and</span></span> <span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;">the older man <span style="font-size: small;">(part 2)</span></span><span style="color: black;">, and then there was <span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;">the fling <span style="font-size: small;">(x3)</span></span><span style="color: black;">, and <span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;">the mistake</span><span style="color: black;">.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;">With the risk of sounding completely cliché, I'll admit that I learned something from every episode of my dating life. After hitting rock bottom with <span style="color: magenta;">the mistake<span style="color: black;">, I knew that things were bound to change. I'd experienced <i>a lot</i> during my freshman year of college, and this time around, I knew what I was looking for. I had my eye on a certain <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/02/blockbuster-boy.html">Blockbuster Boy</a>, and although our relationship felt like it was off to a <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not.html">rocky start</a>, I soon realized that all those bits and pieces I'd been drawn to in those other guys throughout the years had culminated in my Blockbuster Boy. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;">When I hear other people reminisce about old relationships, or talk about re-kindling an old flame, I feel so grateful that I'm no longer in that position. It reminds me of the movie <i>He's Just Not That Into You</i>--if it didn't work out the first time, 98% of the time, it's not going to work out subsequent times, either. And those 2% of old relationships that somehow become successful? Those are the exceptions. Instead of holding onto those memories as false hope, I wish more women would use them as learning tools. I know it's easier said than done, but I also think it's a matter of self-respect.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;">And, suddenly, I didn't miss any of those past relationships. I spent too much time missing these guys, wondering how I'd messed up, wishing for things that would never happen. Now, I find myself rolling my eyes at the political Facebook statuses from <span style="color: magenta;">the debater</span>. I applaud the <span style="color: magenta;">airplane guy<span style="color: black;">, who serves our country overseas. I occasionally catch up with <span style="color: magenta;">the guy from camp<span style="color: black;"> for lunch or a cup of coffee. The fling and the mistake? Yeah, I un-friended them.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-35768719566141698522011-05-29T09:34:00.002-05:002011-05-29T16:15:26.815-05:00Warm Feet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A few nights ago, just as we were falling asleep, I looked over at B and-- <i>Omigosh!</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> I thought. <i>Did I even think this through? This is a huge decision. Am I too young for this? Do I really want to be with him for the <u>rest</u> of my <u>life</u>? Or do I just want to get married? Will I miss out on something else--something better?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">While these thoughts poured into my head, I have no doubt that the look on my face was anything but picture-worthy. <i>Hold on, Katie, calm down</i>. I took a deep breath. And, luckily, it all came back to me. The way B had cleaned up my skinned knees and palms after I fell running recently; our hysterical laughter throughout the aisles of Target that afternoon over absolutely nothing; the dinners we've shared together in our new home over the past month; relaxing on the couch together after a long day of tornado sirens with kindergartners at work. Not to mention the support I had in B when I went through a really tough time last summer; the beautiful roses he brought home this week; how I've only had to run/empty the dishwasher once since we moved into our apartment; coming home to clean laundry on a day when I was absolutely exhausted. Remembering these things, I rolled over, kissed B's cheek, and fell asleep--absolutely assured.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqqKmAT2P-hkR5m_KaBmjRZapB_fY0RePgViK1hShJM4k7eADoNw9g4cvd_g25gywjHTgTxuY7C-A_4J_a2TRXMAAHnQEysJIHLeCz-N2xwpxsj8kc6cJ42v-uA7K4rEkuypfkC15TrrPk/s1600/Engagement+Picture+laughing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqqKmAT2P-hkR5m_KaBmjRZapB_fY0RePgViK1hShJM4k7eADoNw9g4cvd_g25gywjHTgTxuY7C-A_4J_a2TRXMAAHnQEysJIHLeCz-N2xwpxsj8kc6cJ42v-uA7K4rEkuypfkC15TrrPk/s320/Engagement+Picture+laughing.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're down to just 13 days!</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-82918043195594487002011-05-03T21:11:00.000-05:002011-05-03T21:11:44.691-05:00Hello May!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This weekend my two cousins are graduating. I remember, when we made our hotel reservations waaaaaay back in October or so, thinking "Wow, that's so far away! By that time the wedding will be right around the corner!" Well, guess what, folks. It's <i>not</i> that far away anymore... and the wedding <i>is</i> right around the corner!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm the queen of cliff-hangers lately, aren't I? Like, <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/04/moving-day.html">last week</a> (and, okay, for <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/02/shedding-new-light-on-our-living.html">two months prior</a>), I talked non-stop about our big move... and then didn't give you any details.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well, here's the gist of it: We're exhausted.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The following is a brief photo tour of the "before" of our new apartment (<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjTisMDVua7YcjGqrBCtULVX-RYB36UVyMk1d55D6Xz02-NT2aw2g5OaGGBrGTd0yTRn1Ugb9XuIwSt7LBj00tpmEcQTDfijJBw7T0q9W2ogDXmdW0zF-vquvHOSa1dawVLbj5IxajeMQd/s1600/Riviera+Floor+Plan.jpg">click here</a> to see the floor plan again):</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFb3B8isgD_bVVDoket_u8hyphenhyphenIJLgtA4jUSudP4D1JEF6MOWhpQIEaiH5jrWKBGe9sA_Hf2JQ6OX7UJ6Rnq4VZglSs4-ENkE3Ob3C-E0aimY771fnpIrhO9foWq_koqZ2JZqSd2Rrgz89Fy/s1600/IMG_0058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFb3B8isgD_bVVDoket_u8hyphenhyphenIJLgtA4jUSudP4D1JEF6MOWhpQIEaiH5jrWKBGe9sA_Hf2JQ6OX7UJ6Rnq4VZglSs4-ENkE3Ob3C-E0aimY771fnpIrhO9foWq_koqZ2JZqSd2Rrgz89Fy/s320/IMG_0058.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The living room from the front door--don't you love the fireplace? It's gas. We thought it was wood-burning (because that's what the brochure says) and were pleasantly surprised to find out we wouldn't be needing to chop down any of the trees in the complex.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGu_yIJVGVhzdXS_Fj4RWcEUDrCb8hlyLhF9yOefZnHXqVouETEJR9MOpmLHkUaWhmHNghmBwQv9Eeok4l78W1ReiyXljvX43AgTTBuUxlQWU_XDQao9QrgbdVolJFrnYY-V9VHhnmf3bb/s1600/IMG_0059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGu_yIJVGVhzdXS_Fj4RWcEUDrCb8hlyLhF9yOefZnHXqVouETEJR9MOpmLHkUaWhmHNghmBwQv9Eeok4l78W1ReiyXljvX43AgTTBuUxlQWU_XDQao9QrgbdVolJFrnYY-V9VHhnmf3bb/s320/IMG_0059.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another shot of the living room in which you can see the beautiful vaulted ceilings that I am absolutely in love with. P.S. The door on the right leads to our balcony (which I forgot to take any "before" pictures of).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizeeJZnhH8w8vOOX_6WLJKjr4dgJlgUeIKcukqargF8E8z1y23_LmVqma1C9troOvzp7ePqIFxfcoPXVgzSzf3cZkLZqTDo_FE0QXpNtDZHLP4dtveqSPxEHNX4gHcsib4JICxH_DTrv6e/s1600/IMG_0060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizeeJZnhH8w8vOOX_6WLJKjr4dgJlgUeIKcukqargF8E8z1y23_LmVqma1C9troOvzp7ePqIFxfcoPXVgzSzf3cZkLZqTDo_FE0QXpNtDZHLP4dtveqSPxEHNX4gHcsib4JICxH_DTrv6e/s320/IMG_0060.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the dining area/kitchen from the living room--yes, I forgot to take pictures until we'd carried in the first few loads of stuff.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnwNt3CLE8vDzWY1fwdNvV9ud9bMX1WZ15TgEO9ydRPWu7ZsKa43MbH1gJOuRsTj9ORr1oaTsnlTwi4JUoJ1CpcCQ8ZHPCgy17NJBOI-w7nvXitJB3sstdME8Bmptrq2GWdqdvIHTO20hx/s1600/IMG_0061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnwNt3CLE8vDzWY1fwdNvV9ud9bMX1WZ15TgEO9ydRPWu7ZsKa43MbH1gJOuRsTj9ORr1oaTsnlTwi4JUoJ1CpcCQ8ZHPCgy17NJBOI-w7nvXitJB3sstdME8Bmptrq2GWdqdvIHTO20hx/s320/IMG_0061.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kitchen. It's snug. But, the cabinets are nice and deep, so there's more storage than it first appears.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicGdnxhEGJWuDZuCKtaJTMp7FuLhhemdeayYZ71l9-V823Pnrxhg7lPPAwQdRcHtk3tzbP0r5BNW_bqo7aWZLe3oEQ5l5IhfXEpTBl3Z3ImX6CrHt5vODBQ80KdJ1nNGaRNjF05mCqkA3i/s1600/IMG_0062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicGdnxhEGJWuDZuCKtaJTMp7FuLhhemdeayYZ71l9-V823Pnrxhg7lPPAwQdRcHtk3tzbP0r5BNW_bqo7aWZLe3oEQ5l5IhfXEpTBl3Z3ImX6CrHt5vODBQ80KdJ1nNGaRNjF05mCqkA3i/s320/IMG_0062.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our cute little bathroom. Just wait until you see the "after" of this shot. One of my proudest accomplishments, for sure :-)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCM7_Dack0nX8_5SG5sC7PQiWcfz3lWyrbv1dgBakZ1lzEdbKJ2nVayj4AXucTjfSgSpHnVd26RfdHmVLDYKjiHLfeL7Ez-0omqVhmMOQjYjrsBKR4t6PVTV_STSi_MGkOOMt9TJ5qgZTa/s1600/IMG_0063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCM7_Dack0nX8_5SG5sC7PQiWcfz3lWyrbv1dgBakZ1lzEdbKJ2nVayj4AXucTjfSgSpHnVd26RfdHmVLDYKjiHLfeL7Ez-0omqVhmMOQjYjrsBKR4t6PVTV_STSi_MGkOOMt9TJ5qgZTa/s320/IMG_0063.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our bedroom. There are no ceiling lights in here, so this picture is super-dark. Behind me there is a sliding door that opens to the balcony. This brings in some natural light, but (obviously) not a ton. We will be purchasing more lamps!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_yW5NIVXG0Nnfjeikp1v-cZq7D4P5kZe_cWDDhyYZtxD_dt7BhktbshBgQV2Z0GuSIXetirgUE3gEbTE8qUoWG2p4g-mULXFVz7_QCukJQWFCDFMII0uJdPnT67WvSFxzx3izTly1bxV/s1600/IMG_0064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_yW5NIVXG0Nnfjeikp1v-cZq7D4P5kZe_cWDDhyYZtxD_dt7BhktbshBgQV2Z0GuSIXetirgUE3gEbTE8qUoWG2p4g-mULXFVz7_QCukJQWFCDFMII0uJdPnT67WvSFxzx3izTly1bxV/s320/IMG_0064.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our closets... sigh...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9bn9B3FnXemH3yfBN4FndSFM5T5OrSfOipYP2cLYAV8PtXtgRPbgFYBnjbnxqjcaeT_Iw2pyeFQfYXk5i1D8GRHxXFj4xjIbWtazdO-voxR9eq_TDmKmpqgec0iBIgjkJ0RBIcm86pzV/s1600/IMG_0065.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9bn9B3FnXemH3yfBN4FndSFM5T5OrSfOipYP2cLYAV8PtXtgRPbgFYBnjbnxqjcaeT_Iw2pyeFQfYXk5i1D8GRHxXFj4xjIbWtazdO-voxR9eq_TDmKmpqgec0iBIgjkJ0RBIcm86pzV/s320/IMG_0065.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At least it goes all the way across the wall... (yes, I'm searching for a silver lining...)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHjplS2lcC30B-xL89ouO_hwTu37lWaqYRUv6o92w9EV_H779BKmG9DcH6Q12dtsdjtEo4NM2cYFT43JUbWmN349DnRbXfwWip-XPwI5da4EwT5ij3029Ifn3b_pfQr56SZly8cPtHt8e/s1600/IMG_0066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHjplS2lcC30B-xL89ouO_hwTu37lWaqYRUv6o92w9EV_H779BKmG9DcH6Q12dtsdjtEo4NM2cYFT43JUbWmN349DnRbXfwWip-XPwI5da4EwT5ij3029Ifn3b_pfQr56SZly8cPtHt8e/s320/IMG_0066.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our hall closet. Double sigh.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The good news (for me) is that we do have a laundry closet with a relatively large amount of storage space. The bad news (for you) is that I don't have a "before" picture, and I don't want to ruin any surprises.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We had fun camping out the first week--since our move-in day was a Monday, and we both work full-time, we didn't move our furniture in until Saturday.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKqCPn0dUR2NIFtopK4Iwt_EKF7R8tVcptVHNipUNixMMH5RFJ5Zg_tSfYmJKujU_zAVo1hm5chuaTB3oM2FFjO-cm0-L0oOWhw597SWS1bw6YsIi1gi3HocUg6X5R-5uFeVZaPg30uFBB/s1600/IMG_0071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKqCPn0dUR2NIFtopK4Iwt_EKF7R8tVcptVHNipUNixMMH5RFJ5Zg_tSfYmJKujU_zAVo1hm5chuaTB3oM2FFjO-cm0-L0oOWhw597SWS1bw6YsIi1gi3HocUg6X5R-5uFeVZaPg30uFBB/s320/IMG_0071.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had a picnic of pizza, salad, and wine our first night at home.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYrQUB5ktcvyNaMUBFzzO-zlOy7eHN3g9M02o3EbwhULbrZwH-ZM40VM63o9FsoSX0OZhBeLDcldJR-D37e4rzMrn1RnAHJDU85cmRzw3HG9pWMK8amZMpa6vXQFzCl2_5xL16a6LYxC7/s1600/IMG_0075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYrQUB5ktcvyNaMUBFzzO-zlOy7eHN3g9M02o3EbwhULbrZwH-ZM40VM63o9FsoSX0OZhBeLDcldJR-D37e4rzMrn1RnAHJDU85cmRzw3HG9pWMK8amZMpa6vXQFzCl2_5xL16a6LYxC7/s320/IMG_0075.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our makeshift couch and end tables. Classy, huh?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtrTAcBKGF2R7p43YOlzyhwtUVUvJVeicGHzF-qzZlSzgDZdhwuSciH2X3TSC5bLhBONkNa19YQLWk0tq-WHgnUWaXAlKemhbF-jOr5XiLJaAaJfmM_W1bMKxsRZu7DUJoCZCrBbzFK5B/s1600/IMG_0076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtrTAcBKGF2R7p43YOlzyhwtUVUvJVeicGHzF-qzZlSzgDZdhwuSciH2X3TSC5bLhBONkNa19YQLWk0tq-WHgnUWaXAlKemhbF-jOr5XiLJaAaJfmM_W1bMKxsRZu7DUJoCZCrBbzFK5B/s320/IMG_0076.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delilah's spot. She's taken well to her new home, and seems to enjoy having her whole family together under one roof.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Things are looking a little different now that we have all our stuff moved in. Be ready for an awesome mini-series of before-and-afters...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-5969334902850977372011-04-26T07:44:00.000-05:002011-04-26T07:44:49.127-05:00Time Management<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Remember <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/cookies-and-centerpieces-and-banners-oh.html">this post</a> where I bragged about how fab our DIY centerpieces were going to be for the reception, and how much money we were going to save by ordering the flowers from Sam's, using vases we already owned, and...?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yeah, scratch that.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I am an expert at getting everything that needs to be done completed. I really am. I never missed an assignment in school, I get my workouts in every day, I work multiple jobs. This is a really fantastic quality of mine... usually.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It becomes problematic when I take on too many responsibilities. Because I'm so fabulous at managing my time, I have a hard time saying "no" to things (specifically when it's a job or money-making possibility), and I have a hard time delegating tasks. If I can find any <i>possible</i> way to fit something into my schedule, I'll do it. Often this means giving up time with my fiancé, with my family, or with my friends.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I know exactly where this problem stems from. My mom is the exact same way. She is so <i>incredibly</i> involved with everything in her life--I honestly don't know how she does it. She heads about four groups at church, is involved in about four more, works part-time for a PR firm, writes mystery novels, and still finds time to make hospital visits, cookies, meals, and even baby blankets for anyone who needs one.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A couple of weeks ago, when we were going over scheduling and details of the wedding day, Mom and I both stopped suddenly and looked at each other. We were both thinking the same thing. <i>We're doing it again</i>. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We both realized that slicing oranges, defrosting flowers, arranging bouquets, tying ribbons, making paper cones and more is <i>not</i> what we want to remember about the weekend. We'd rather concentrate on the 250+ friends and family that will be gathered together for the first time in years. We want to visit, and talk, and laugh. We want to have our nails done, our hair, and our make-up, while drinking mimosas and chatting with the other ladies getting ready the morning of the wedding. Suddenly, the price our florist had quoted for the 25 centerpieces and the aisle decorations was not looking so shabby... and our home-made centerpiece idea <i>was</i>.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgn0qLX-sklTp5TI1aHIrYwnoBhNRV2qwUkx-NWY1hkoTg-FHxJCOnVEa23yyRcO2xVIdUr09BOz6w68bqMKMAPLKapq29GSs6c9CMsWFiTNJKoSp3stY3EqDXgxy1_exoR95NY0jWY8A/s1600/Wedding+Centerpiece+Trial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgn0qLX-sklTp5TI1aHIrYwnoBhNRV2qwUkx-NWY1hkoTg-FHxJCOnVEa23yyRcO2xVIdUr09BOz6w68bqMKMAPLKapq29GSs6c9CMsWFiTNJKoSp3stY3EqDXgxy1_exoR95NY0jWY8A/s320/Wedding+Centerpiece+Trial.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The nix-ed idea</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, sorry Martha. It's not that your sliced citrus in vases was not a lovely summery idea--it was--our time is more precious.</span> We'll be going with <a href="http://www.kcflowergirl.com/#/home/">The Flower Girl</a>. </span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-18005968152327271092011-04-25T16:00:00.000-05:002011-04-25T16:00:05.408-05:00Moving Day!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's moving day!</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">This morning we moved in our first carload of stuff (I had a dentist appointment, so had the morning off, and was able to get into the apartment in that extra time).</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tonight we'll celebrate by ordering pizza and sharing a bottle of wine as begin our week-long campout on our air mattress (the big stuff will be moved this weekend). </span></span> </span></span></span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-32165934306447711672011-04-24T18:19:00.000-05:002011-04-24T18:19:21.730-05:00When It Rains...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/04/let-it-pour.html">previous post</a>'s title would be an apt name for life this past week. You know how they say "When it rains, it pours"? Well...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I started off a little down last Friday when a teaching position I'd had my eye on for next year was filled--by someone other than myself. I spent the weekend reviewing the several applications I currently have in to school districts and applying with a few more. Although I'm trying not to let the negativity of the economy and the current budget situation get me down, seeing district after district holding up their "We're Not Hiring" signs is a little hard to ignore.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Then, Monday morning, I heard from the service shop where I'd taken Sally, my 1997 Saturn, over the weekend for an oil change. I'd also asked them to take a quick listen to the new whirring noise I'd been noticing on the highway. Well, the mystery noise turned out to the be worst mystery noise possible--the transmission. It was time to look for a new car.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16HzYC_CFWu22_9hqNvuQNZdjgsLUsjqC78usGB-pKVOHxyjH_BGWb1YZpcRQgIrgPvCF0JFOirZOLsUtCy319UWnIAjAlv148xn2piojeZcPdW7_dxbgSwlpi_FBv16OySqTeymTsY2h/s1600/Sally.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16HzYC_CFWu22_9hqNvuQNZdjgsLUsjqC78usGB-pKVOHxyjH_BGWb1YZpcRQgIrgPvCF0JFOirZOLsUtCy319UWnIAjAlv148xn2piojeZcPdW7_dxbgSwlpi_FBv16OySqTeymTsY2h/s320/Sally.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've driven Sally since my 16th birthday. And my mom drove Sally before I did. She's been in our family for a long time.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjod8sfbuKj2be937Pp5hfhyx0bSepVMkQdFZibJkDVLzRho3a2Qe8jV-CSS6tJlOK8yLGC6nhyZExqsDpWp_QUmGjOd64ytskZdzVfQ9ca23Krw7cLst3IxwOZVufmF3YWoRMt60y66bSG/s1600/Seat+Covers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjod8sfbuKj2be937Pp5hfhyx0bSepVMkQdFZibJkDVLzRho3a2Qe8jV-CSS6tJlOK8yLGC6nhyZExqsDpWp_QUmGjOd64ytskZdzVfQ9ca23Krw7cLst3IxwOZVufmF3YWoRMt60y66bSG/s320/Seat+Covers.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm going to miss my tropical seat covers (covering the small tear in the seat cushion).</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8NoH80XK7DAzHsyycGxctgLeDcwbZ-ZRYL-bZMven1sJmr_Xj0tqhehb2HEMnVQ8gHPOv3sz44hqOyYIlS2dFQvTDqT5RCaylS_p6-zYbx6EFxhQdrOGcw_k3_0sSxeJ4PIkOpcljmqX/s1600/Smile+Note.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8NoH80XK7DAzHsyycGxctgLeDcwbZ-ZRYL-bZMven1sJmr_Xj0tqhehb2HEMnVQ8gHPOv3sz44hqOyYIlS2dFQvTDqT5RCaylS_p6-zYbx6EFxhQdrOGcw_k3_0sSxeJ4PIkOpcljmqX/s320/Smile+Note.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My reminder to myself that smiling makes everything seem better.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPxXhyu6ZCI_prBtMi75pxTMtUHwYLl6t4QfpxnwFtzpVyRccxq_Egdixpk1ZDdxsEVJVKpjce9gd6ZQf5ZHqyIIrDfvFdvutsy8tW24luC3nrYsatymsbU4DchpTrW6kJLwmBJq3yg88/s1600/Sticker+in+Sally.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPxXhyu6ZCI_prBtMi75pxTMtUHwYLl6t4QfpxnwFtzpVyRccxq_Egdixpk1ZDdxsEVJVKpjce9gd6ZQf5ZHqyIIrDfvFdvutsy8tW24luC3nrYsatymsbU4DchpTrW6kJLwmBJq3yg88/s320/Sticker+in+Sally.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sticker on Sally's ceiling is reminiscent of the first day my best friend, Kelly, came over in third grade. It was a remnant of the class Valentine's party we'd had that day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Then, Monday night, over in the STL, my grandpa was taken to the hospital in the middle of the night. Although we've now learned that the problems he was having were caused by a poorly-reacting medication, I was pretty shaken up when I talked to him the next day. It's hard to watch someone you care about getting older.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Keep in mind that all of this was happening six weeks before the wedding, and one week before our big move. My cell phone and email were busy between all the car dealers, insurance agents, florists, chefs, Dairy Queen managers, banquet coordinators, musicians, grandfathers, and... sadly... no school districts. I was crunching numbers constantly, trying to figure out how we were possibly going to afford a car payment on top of our double rent (until July), honeymoon, etc. (The fact that I don't have a job lined up for fall made that especially painful.) </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Monday night I literally slept for less than two hours; by Tuesday afternoon, I had literally worried myself sick with a 100-degree fever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">However, as luck would have it, a couple from church just happened to mention to a mutual friend that they were looking to sell their 2006 Kia Sportage--which just so happened to be #2 on the list of cars I was interested in. After a phone call and a quick visit the next day, I agreed to buy the car (and they agreed to sell it to me) for a very reasonable price. Phew! Crisis averted.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivCxtKs6XlqrYv-WgOpjil0jzmL1jD0caszLlTtcnlEXuM9FpwllIK9sKNXZinQSWsFJPIDRdjt2BDZljr_CYdryJorfFDYdAKmxRVH-rcqKYs5ujttLOTInlEGatMaqaPWF3PS_QtIv40/s1600/Kia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivCxtKs6XlqrYv-WgOpjil0jzmL1jD0caszLlTtcnlEXuM9FpwllIK9sKNXZinQSWsFJPIDRdjt2BDZljr_CYdryJorfFDYdAKmxRVH-rcqKYs5ujttLOTInlEGatMaqaPWF3PS_QtIv40/s320/Kia.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first ever new-to-me car.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAk6LqrJyUUeQ7WxAGXYp1kNSDI1HUWnU4tDtFZ02Z2KMGz58OqdkERAxIEOeiRU0eVE8dmpqK3WQFYtHfDI31mv5EUPMowWO9ExEnOrk_MHbHA3RS4NdZRa5NklcAeNbcsgRWu_kkYlQ/s1600/Kia2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAk6LqrJyUUeQ7WxAGXYp1kNSDI1HUWnU4tDtFZ02Z2KMGz58OqdkERAxIEOeiRU0eVE8dmpqK3WQFYtHfDI31mv5EUPMowWO9ExEnOrk_MHbHA3RS4NdZRa5NklcAeNbcsgRWu_kkYlQ/s320/Kia2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Naming cars is a pretty important job. I haven't come up with the perfect name for her yet (yes, she's clearly a female).</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6lQcVVCxITvU0IepfloSFJz32uDfV4ZyyEzNBjoWlzBBGzMfnyguWnAw6VN_JE8VkBduT5jnyo8md6cUjQw5WJc92nLswxG525mDLsCuSlYKJPidcVIUrHi5pCwFMIR1LyHaHbbf-b7hY/s1600/KU+Sticker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6lQcVVCxITvU0IepfloSFJz32uDfV4ZyyEzNBjoWlzBBGzMfnyguWnAw6VN_JE8VkBduT5jnyo8md6cUjQw5WJc92nLswxG525mDLsCuSlYKJPidcVIUrHi5pCwFMIR1LyHaHbbf-b7hY/s320/KU+Sticker.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The previous owners are big KU fans. Still unsure about the stickers--we're not NOT KU fans, we're just... not KU fans. We'll see if they make the cut.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Thursday, my grandpa was released from the hospital. He still has some physical therapy to go through, and it doesn't sound as though his problems are 100% resolved, but the situation is not as dire as it was earlier in the week. Again, some relief there.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I would love to end this post by telling you that Problem #3 was solved and I was offered a fantastic teaching position for the fall... but that didn't happen. Oh, well. At this point, I feel as though I've done as much as I can do. I'm contacting my contacts, brushing up my applications, and just plain trying to be the best ol' kindergarten grade level aide possible. The only thing left to do is to adopt a more positive attitude. So, now, I'm just reminding myself to "Smile!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">P.S. Remember what day tomorrow is??? April 25! Move-In Day!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxEUQIS_yzzxq-asImyBAxzHSYpeQJQqUl7sHCQhGM67gfaZ8dovqo6Z62S2wWH3DdHMHVrJ3ZCSDUXH8RjMAcdKl0T8rwdQYqL49nziMgmc6uzxMJu9H-U9gCqJtZT2OyyJhpTp2TBvaS/s1600/Packed+Car+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxEUQIS_yzzxq-asImyBAxzHSYpeQJQqUl7sHCQhGM67gfaZ8dovqo6Z62S2wWH3DdHMHVrJ3ZCSDUXH8RjMAcdKl0T8rwdQYqL49nziMgmc6uzxMJu9H-U9gCqJtZT2OyyJhpTp2TBvaS/s320/Packed+Car+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Kia's all packed up with our first load of stuff.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARgW73_yMiDO6vN54d6Odt4H2CItRVLwhG6oHIWlV8kcbfzLlo5R5gOB3nXEeozC8EjOtPN1vS-LMwhjWV_G2u2x4_iVGQT0bhNW9Tuq8vOMwD5Tksz06KFVWgnr6m_Mrq8cQIQ7QQmLn/s1600/Packed+Car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjARgW73_yMiDO6vN54d6Odt4H2CItRVLwhG6oHIWlV8kcbfzLlo5R5gOB3nXEeozC8EjOtPN1vS-LMwhjWV_G2u2x4_iVGQT0bhNW9Tuq8vOMwD5Tksz06KFVWgnr6m_Mrq8cQIQ7QQmLn/s320/Packed+Car.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's really incredible how much this car can hold!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-5399708266637412972011-04-22T15:08:00.001-05:002011-04-22T15:11:58.057-05:00Let It Pour!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Recently, we've been having a lot of showers. No, I don't mean we've been scrubbing-up more often. And no, I'm not referring to the "brings May flowers" type (although there've been plenty of those with this Midwestern weather). We've been having the best kind of showers--showerings of gifts. And boy, have we!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Our first wedding shower actually occurred over Thanksgiving weekend. B's aunts, mom, and grandma pulled together a couples' shower for B's family up in Iowa. Thus began the initial grumblings from the men in the family. ("A <i>couples'</i> shower? What the --? That is not fair.") </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidc0wRNE5mHqbDfQgXqBtERKmdAW-FJRKIpEm85flQsAR3icyGxDZkIUGUWr7mEQbQT6-faAdV3XRRo2Wcd6QeyP1MmayWvnaliOXYAhkliu6eE9YhTq9pzeS11Wu2bVnikFXZsrzaWoHS/s1600/Pam%252C+Debbie%252C+Grandma+Stocker%252C+Megan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidc0wRNE5mHqbDfQgXqBtERKmdAW-FJRKIpEm85flQsAR3icyGxDZkIUGUWr7mEQbQT6-faAdV3XRRo2Wcd6QeyP1MmayWvnaliOXYAhkliu6eE9YhTq9pzeS11Wu2bVnikFXZsrzaWoHS/s320/Pam%252C+Debbie%252C+Grandma+Stocker%252C+Megan.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lovely ladies who threw the shower</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQU-PbN0tP7ozeVJjBWxfMeQjIWK5Vk6KVohaghZYw3h-HMEPgfxzdLTICjdu7YDvD-hrOR_f4E9KOtIgxtcqycRlLanTeN9YO43v4_4m9guAAdhCov5gKGfLptn_V4uMa1ghosiZ6emmf/s1600/Flowers+and+cookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQU-PbN0tP7ozeVJjBWxfMeQjIWK5Vk6KVohaghZYw3h-HMEPgfxzdLTICjdu7YDvD-hrOR_f4E9KOtIgxtcqycRlLanTeN9YO43v4_4m9guAAdhCov5gKGfLptn_V4uMa1ghosiZ6emmf/s320/Flowers+and+cookies.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful flowers, cookies, and favors</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_4jQhVIhUJROohIbQKREJWSWdSu9UACyMU-oL5MXSMl0wl-LxmkXH2T9m1yw9qiFQI_QL8IaREKCc4b16V14irFM9HhP8Zy2VNqiW02J8kreHqATQWo-a6fTtWdl4nbFIR-QDeuKjz6Eg/s1600/Cookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_4jQhVIhUJROohIbQKREJWSWdSu9UACyMU-oL5MXSMl0wl-LxmkXH2T9m1yw9qiFQI_QL8IaREKCc4b16V14irFM9HhP8Zy2VNqiW02J8kreHqATQWo-a6fTtWdl4nbFIR-QDeuKjz6Eg/s320/Cookies.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love the cookie tray--aren't the spritz cookies (in our colors) adorable?!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIMuT7X8OuHHlR0XBOdycykUY4ZFJ9B6WB-aUzEAYKi1J1gboRmfQzAFi_HahfESlbPq64JfAxP0pAkPNrni5iqOW8_sD31DGppTpadQ0-nf5SBjdD6Cfwfwd8BbAmufy5GGMXaRf3mVl/s1600/Rice+krispie+treats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIMuT7X8OuHHlR0XBOdycykUY4ZFJ9B6WB-aUzEAYKi1J1gboRmfQzAFi_HahfESlbPq64JfAxP0pAkPNrni5iqOW8_sD31DGppTpadQ0-nf5SBjdD6Cfwfwd8BbAmufy5GGMXaRf3mVl/s320/Rice+krispie+treats.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Favors for our guests were chocolate-covered rice krispie treats from Sweet Caroline's bakery.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCiiNi9N20AUjj8Cohq0FOY9ksV120cP3k7SRgE-iDx8Qd_6oe_Qwcd7NUXqN3zvjD_klboCjx7mEHloJKPdpR1eK06aeZ2RlaSRX-OztMaxnlRoepd1AJF4XyPOT9NH1Egri_zbXwScOY/s1600/Me+and+Brandon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCiiNi9N20AUjj8Cohq0FOY9ksV120cP3k7SRgE-iDx8Qd_6oe_Qwcd7NUXqN3zvjD_klboCjx7mEHloJKPdpR1eK06aeZ2RlaSRX-OztMaxnlRoepd1AJF4XyPOT9NH1Egri_zbXwScOY/s320/Me+and+Brandon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><3 Me & B <3</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Our second wedding shower was about a month ago. This one (also a couples' shower--more grumbling from the menfolk) was thrown by my aunts and cousins for my family over in St. Louis.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibAFMiUadDQvCqB2eu-0kST33KuRDqXDwT4oaOL2zAsVnER8g0DTLTwVQNwZSTfz9kvh_MBVcQmmgDMHV2-IuSc99PqJgUvLTasP9xTlQb8eXWgVliH_OTzk17HzuhYuNsnP07mCCQG5eb/s1600/Cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibAFMiUadDQvCqB2eu-0kST33KuRDqXDwT4oaOL2zAsVnER8g0DTLTwVQNwZSTfz9kvh_MBVcQmmgDMHV2-IuSc99PqJgUvLTasP9xTlQb8eXWgVliH_OTzk17HzuhYuNsnP07mCCQG5eb/s320/Cake.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_t4K9gRM7ucMAQS2HQn5fnDn0jOnp-X9JcNnUw8Eke_MrBPtTuL0uvAyZ4qqHwBbIcXa0pcWGgPZ8LMSJ5xcDfHmetAT2l4l7oPm-W8GZCb_lxujP7S4xOCe41tVC1tWVB3oLiLrAdSw6/s1600/Candy+Centerpieces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_t4K9gRM7ucMAQS2HQn5fnDn0jOnp-X9JcNnUw8Eke_MrBPtTuL0uvAyZ4qqHwBbIcXa0pcWGgPZ8LMSJ5xcDfHmetAT2l4l7oPm-W8GZCb_lxujP7S4xOCe41tVC1tWVB3oLiLrAdSw6/s320/Candy+Centerpieces.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My aunt made these candy centerpieces. They were so festive--and yummy!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHiiFtcO3qeie9i24HlepTTJO91Kku6HPBXvm4TQ0anAaxCCTmmiHz90pDPTmsIXt_EBTxAcpV2hEYQaQXzDHO_WsWA3ebiGlUYDU3jtpVOs0K6nyKoiYLdw1I60IMQdwg0tErb81JdRe/s1600/Gifts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBHiiFtcO3qeie9i24HlepTTJO91Kku6HPBXvm4TQ0anAaxCCTmmiHz90pDPTmsIXt_EBTxAcpV2hEYQaQXzDHO_WsWA3ebiGlUYDU3jtpVOs0K6nyKoiYLdw1I60IMQdwg0tErb81JdRe/s320/Gifts.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We had a third shower at home in KC two weekends ago. That one was given by my maid of honor, a bridesmaid, and their moms. It was a more traditional shower in the sense that the men were <i>not</i> <strike>forced to attend</strike> invited this time. As a matter of fact, B spent the time swinging from ropes, throwing weighted balls, and pushing machinery around a parking lot--the manliest workout possible, compensating for the time spent at the last two showers.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIpY-EOQ9MlOKZk2dpfDr0Gmggp0sSPTlwYKFjj2yOcXovpBDyTwOxdWxa_IwfASdiMPBWrPg2C1ATUHNr4t7QjIw56pqD5DRgsAMcuIJyVl3ZiVgCjC0KJUQFOvsYgVMW0c2ThUPgbn_5/s1600/best+friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIpY-EOQ9MlOKZk2dpfDr0Gmggp0sSPTlwYKFjj2yOcXovpBDyTwOxdWxa_IwfASdiMPBWrPg2C1ATUHNr4t7QjIw56pqD5DRgsAMcuIJyVl3ZiVgCjC0KJUQFOvsYgVMW0c2ThUPgbn_5/s320/best+friends.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My MOH, me, and a bridesmaid. Also, my two best friends in the whole world :-)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikz00p2CMGFRhDWIzocPJmLMyOvLFnD93QWk5nLqh8anCYoOaGJqLaIrz0xoC8ABdQKxW2CUFpzmUj0wTFv9rQhTthcOsWGBedTnXn28GF9DWbDqb_bdAaj_AVZJSKF5RuI0ufkaxtYYJM/s1600/presents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikz00p2CMGFRhDWIzocPJmLMyOvLFnD93QWk5nLqh8anCYoOaGJqLaIrz0xoC8ABdQKxW2CUFpzmUj0wTFv9rQhTthcOsWGBedTnXn28GF9DWbDqb_bdAaj_AVZJSKF5RuI0ufkaxtYYJM/s320/presents.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The loot we took home from that shower.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ52bYHEfx7ADwcOhmVQifaSVBLXAsl_w1KA-q63aj9lt-RRwF9kwPKnunwO141lTTP6WAIxtCMVR36xmQFSxhSyfPBrw-5CBOEeDokAvLqCclJlngDJ1zXwReEHq5xwDmTH_jgRRPFqWR/s1600/presents2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ52bYHEfx7ADwcOhmVQifaSVBLXAsl_w1KA-q63aj9lt-RRwF9kwPKnunwO141lTTP6WAIxtCMVR36xmQFSxhSyfPBrw-5CBOEeDokAvLqCclJlngDJ1zXwReEHq5xwDmTH_jgRRPFqWR/s320/presents2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More loot</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Phew. That's a lot of showers! And all of that showering is what led to this:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZoejJIwrbllCseHmWq2m7Fh9icJw49hpUbsZHcWVwSA_25AEnva13TYzgmq3VORaDs7ViuGy3fZ7Obv4V0D-K1_S7GSOMyghBLApnmJKGKgvFvGwf3VXpEDP6PBRLJ1nLr-CYGmqsCvhl/s1600/piles+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZoejJIwrbllCseHmWq2m7Fh9icJw49hpUbsZHcWVwSA_25AEnva13TYzgmq3VORaDs7ViuGy3fZ7Obv4V0D-K1_S7GSOMyghBLApnmJKGKgvFvGwf3VXpEDP6PBRLJ1nLr-CYGmqsCvhl/s320/piles+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMuALGv9Eyc8L-hWpAxGlnMZ1x17J1JsKMWx7GnMo0wl3_8P46J_YOl2Y_vEce9rW-_JJ2Gc2hr1upBfDHyARdyPWNe98iJRkKkyv-HWyO5JQ4pXDbX0c_0aFdx0gzZxhg6xjl5Srjid3z/s1600/piles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMuALGv9Eyc8L-hWpAxGlnMZ1x17J1JsKMWx7GnMo0wl3_8P46J_YOl2Y_vEce9rW-_JJ2Gc2hr1upBfDHyARdyPWNe98iJRkKkyv-HWyO5JQ4pXDbX0c_0aFdx0gzZxhg6xjl5Srjid3z/s320/piles.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDjOe1bzkwtQpddvg42EXPxTZukKbFcR5cdCwohegLUH1BhEBk4pR7qb3okunbQdyNyvmMK2b6IdZHtNjfXBW82_zkl6YHiSyDUB4y96ABdMGdL4ayK0Vpu0vpFdx16zZrhSBC9YPOiX16/s1600/piles3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDjOe1bzkwtQpddvg42EXPxTZukKbFcR5cdCwohegLUH1BhEBk4pR7qb3okunbQdyNyvmMK2b6IdZHtNjfXBW82_zkl6YHiSyDUB4y96ABdMGdL4ayK0Vpu0vpFdx16zZrhSBC9YPOiX16/s320/piles3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
It's all packed up (kinda) and organized (not really) to be moved into our <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/02/shedding-new-light-on-our-living.html">new apartment</a>. <span style="font-size: x-small;">Did I mention the big day is coming up? April 25. That's, like, Monday.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was straightening my hair for the last shower, when B commented (in a somewhat relieved way) that this would, in fact, be our last. "Until we have a baby," I said. He was quiet. "Those aren't couple showers, though, right?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Somehow, he didn't seem to mind opening the presents, though.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-6637876223228762352011-04-21T16:51:00.000-05:002011-04-21T16:51:04.992-05:00Lost in the Great Unknown<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">You can call me a blog slacker.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I know, I've earned it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I would offer some excuses--you know, about planning a wedding, moving, job searching, car buying--but I won't. I will, however, offer you a preview of what I've been lost in:</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbl6Im9y8GS2T6ummX1hJR5yYLQXQgasU14-SpUttn7JY_jgENAinpVl4dplUUvsufEXOmJwfkUyiheBnWdPqvo8Mda6qulcj5XzDBP-v4zbvDtFyehXNYeaZraKhJ7REAaUK98m3xl4mS/s1600/piles+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbl6Im9y8GS2T6ummX1hJR5yYLQXQgasU14-SpUttn7JY_jgENAinpVl4dplUUvsufEXOmJwfkUyiheBnWdPqvo8Mda6qulcj5XzDBP-v4zbvDtFyehXNYeaZraKhJ7REAaUK98m3xl4mS/s320/piles+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ne2-z34lIto25doSMNb_NU8eVhW0freZShEQ9lg1QeC319-by1WPcwPXZrSwD3Yd3J5NloYZO7mj_QuMol4d0qWAj2YopaSFx4pjGH9MT-ObButBNobNri6490RtbFIdu-LhLxeXbj0b/s1600/piles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ne2-z34lIto25doSMNb_NU8eVhW0freZShEQ9lg1QeC319-by1WPcwPXZrSwD3Yd3J5NloYZO7mj_QuMol4d0qWAj2YopaSFx4pjGH9MT-ObButBNobNri6490RtbFIdu-LhLxeXbj0b/s320/piles.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCgw1OHORNXYsAG3cF4vJAu0JV7PJZ8NlPKxqmmIA5BkCqORN6_L82QrmhS7sux414U1_P6HZ0Sc67yTqpk5E-bmhpo5rTo4OJhTimJZJRLai5sjhyOY-AAgQtE_-43Qt0eJ-rMakwuin/s1600/piles3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCgw1OHORNXYsAG3cF4vJAu0JV7PJZ8NlPKxqmmIA5BkCqORN6_L82QrmhS7sux414U1_P6HZ0Sc67yTqpk5E-bmhpo5rTo4OJhTimJZJRLai5sjhyOY-AAgQtE_-43Qt0eJ-rMakwuin/s320/piles3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Yes, it's as scary as it looks. This is life right now. Piles. Boxes. Unstable. Utter chaos.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But have no fear. I'm back, and I'm stronger than ever...</span></span><br />
</div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-53532706364936525652011-04-07T16:50:00.000-05:002011-04-07T16:50:52.943-05:00Ring-A-Ding-Ding<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Check!</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That's the sound of me checking another item off our <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/p/to-do-list.html">to-do list</a>. Have you noticed I've been doing a lot of that lately? Yeah. Go, me.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A couple of rainy Sundays ago, B and I decided it was time to venture back to the ring store. (The <i>jewelry</i> store, more specifically, for all of you <i>Friends</i> fans out there who might have been worried.) We knew with 100% certainty that we'd be giving <a href="http://www.shaneco.com/">Shane Co.</a> our business once again. Besides their incredibly-enticing radio commercials, we were very impressed with the company back in Nov. 2009 when we were ring shopping for this baby:</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wwavcRWN8mYRfUF0Vnq3txZJnEjsyE6h94twW-MVROR0zaLuGbfhXIDrNiZHSRboC9ahwuayQUDl3OgetaA9V8mYUdBxWOvfkPu8ohuWZKrXuuGVltOjsxxErQloXn7UGx2d5BObQ3qi/s1600/Ring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wwavcRWN8mYRfUF0Vnq3txZJnEjsyE6h94twW-MVROR0zaLuGbfhXIDrNiZHSRboC9ahwuayQUDl3OgetaA9V8mYUdBxWOvfkPu8ohuWZKrXuuGVltOjsxxErQloXn7UGx2d5BObQ3qi/s320/Ring.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggJt5M1hDu7_P5bVgIB3l5NeBNO1effKKIAcXonSOSV_aM9smdOSWUeOOmfaSSlVmw8fRNGvwDvnBWi2zw_4FByEB3s1CkVPOgrmp3gDNJamDKW4XAxW801m1f9g94r37vrfZAQR71-rr7/s1600/Ring+with+Roses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggJt5M1hDu7_P5bVgIB3l5NeBNO1effKKIAcXonSOSV_aM9smdOSWUeOOmfaSSlVmw8fRNGvwDvnBWi2zw_4FByEB3s1CkVPOgrmp3gDNJamDKW4XAxW801m1f9g94r37vrfZAQR71-rr7/s320/Ring+with+Roses.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yes, B and I shopped together for an engagement band. Although the "when" "where" and "how" of the engagement were a surprise, we were both involved with the "who" "what" and "why".</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When we first walked into <a href="http://www.shaneco.com/">Shane Co.</a>, we were immediately greeted by a salesperson who asked <i>first</i> what styles we had in mind, then our price point. At the time, I was interested in a <a href="http://www.shaneco.com/Catalog/Default.aspx?C0=111&C111=112&C112=3&ST=Single%20Rings&C3=95">halo style</a>, but knew these could get pretty pricey pretty quickly.</span></span> <span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Our saleslady assured us that she could help us find a ring that we loved in any style we wanted at our price point. <i>Wow</i>! This was a <i>huge</i> difference from the mall jewelry stores we'd just finished visiting. (We'd walked into a common chain earlier that day, and practically had to chase somebody down to help us. She asked about our budget, flipped open a catalog, and pointed to the only ring she said was available at that point. We got out of there pretty fast, to say the least.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I ended up not being as deeply in love with the halo style as I thought I'd be, so the sales associate showed us other options for the next couple of hours. Even though it was a busy Saturday afternoon, she was incredibly patient, answering all of our questions, and bringing out choice after choice after choice until I found <i>THE</i> ring.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The ring we chose (pictured above) fit our price point <i>perfectly</i>--and it even came with the wedding band (which is currently locked up in a safety deposit box, but it looks pretty similar to <a href="http://www.shaneco.com/Catalog/ProductDetail.aspx?X=41002225&O=Dept&C0=2&C2=12">this one</a>).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Another fabulous thing about <a href="http://www.shaneco.com/">Shane Co.</a> is that they sell all of their diamonds loose. So, although I picked out the band, B went back later and picked out the center stone himself. In addition to <i>that</i> fabulousness is the fact that at Shane Co., you can always replace a stone with one that's even bigger and better--and all they'll charge you is the difference in price of the stone. So, someday when we're a filthy-rich environmentalist/teacher couple, we can go back and pick out a whopping 4 ct. stone, and we'll only have to pay a few bucks more. (Or, we could choose a more reasonable half-to-one carat stone to celebrate an anniversary, I suppose.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, after a wonderful first impression, we knew Shane Co. would be getting our business once again...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This time, we went in knowing that we wanted an "alternative metal" for B. As a Haz Mat Man, a white gold or platinum ring would be sure to dent up quickly. (They're also really expensive!) Shane Co. carries two alternative metals: titanium and cobalt. With price tags around the $100 mark for titanium, it sounded like a pretty good deal at first. But then the sales associate explained that it, too, will dent easily, and there's not much they can do to polish out any damages. Cobalt, however, is quite durable. It prices a little higher (about $300), but it would be the best choice for someone who plays with paint cans and chemicals all day.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I love <a href="http://www.shaneco.com/Catalog/ProductDetail.aspx?X=41050050&C0=41&C41=86&C86=90&A1=Gem%7CPlain&A2=Metal%7CCobalt">the style that B picked</a>. We liked the wider band, and the cornered style gives the ring a more modern look. He wasn't so sure he'd like <i>any</i> rings at first--this is a guy who has <i>never</i> worn jewelry--but when he saw this one, he decided it might not be too bad :-)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now both of our wedding bands are tucked safely away, waiting for the big day!</span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-43424383496191964332011-04-05T18:13:00.000-05:002011-04-05T18:13:11.204-05:00You're Invited! (Probably)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Sunday evening I put my fiancé, my parents, and my future mother-in-law to work in an assembly line. It was time to break out the box of invitations, response cards, and pre-addressed envelopes we'd ordered six months prior, and I knew it would be no small task.</span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfv8zgPzGjTV9AznzOwNiFF_wTJQtk-DbCUx43rhEEbu8jKvjsrNyV0x1KdwfwPAhYoaheLikEu0TBKKWzE46mdPHrzjDdkTTAni0Bc3W5DJZjEf_D1Qi8nQtK04za87XMwa5PCy1BlLN/s1600/Everyone+Assembling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfv8zgPzGjTV9AznzOwNiFF_wTJQtk-DbCUx43rhEEbu8jKvjsrNyV0x1KdwfwPAhYoaheLikEu0TBKKWzE46mdPHrzjDdkTTAni0Bc3W5DJZjEf_D1Qi8nQtK04za87XMwa5PCy1BlLN/s320/Everyone+Assembling.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(My mom never fails to have her "stoic and creepy" look in photos.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipXeit5VR1BA7nxyhWcsZSRASf7NIgI_8EeawxIlGyZNfqv3Gmj5qLIKlPRY-FgizJi5iaK33dMOS2CUmkzFM9GSETpEVSkhesRtfqHEiWtv7LXX-93EYpTDgrrXcA9IhhrGLJVtz48qlS/s1600/Assembly+Line.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipXeit5VR1BA7nxyhWcsZSRASf7NIgI_8EeawxIlGyZNfqv3Gmj5qLIKlPRY-FgizJi5iaK33dMOS2CUmkzFM9GSETpEVSkhesRtfqHEiWtv7LXX-93EYpTDgrrXcA9IhhrGLJVtz48qlS/s320/Assembly+Line.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Piles and lists, piles and lists</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrv5AVO5Nw_eKQi2qh-_pD9PKnFRJgx11YL5naaPOtDe3nvHXnDBNU6o8taKeDaiDX2WSuUrsuXM6lasuht-r-wVyUrzSQAhtuc3_3ctWiSp7vvSwwHCN90KaRHepIziydVDU-g9nXE-KO/s1600/Brandon+licking+envelopes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrv5AVO5Nw_eKQi2qh-_pD9PKnFRJgx11YL5naaPOtDe3nvHXnDBNU6o8taKeDaiDX2WSuUrsuXM6lasuht-r-wVyUrzSQAhtuc3_3ctWiSp7vvSwwHCN90KaRHepIziydVDU-g9nXE-KO/s320/Brandon+licking+envelopes.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An enthusiastic... um, licker...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When I first started dreaming of invitations soon after our engagement, I assumed that we'd hire a calligrapher to address them in ink made of white gold (okay, not quite). However, as we began weaving all of the pieces of a wedding together, and budgeting (and re-budgeting) our money, invitations quickly soared to the bottom of our list--we decided we'd be doing those on the cheap.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Then, I began pricing vendors recommended to me by friends, from <a href="http://theknot.com/">theknot.com</a>, on <a href="http://www.etsy.com/">Etsy</a>, even materials to make our own from <a href="http://www.paper-source.com/">Paper Source</a>, and realized that the $600 I had set aside was not even going to cover the <i>invitations </i>at any of these places, let alone the response cards, the envelopes, the stamps, etc.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Finally, I stumbled across <a href="http://123print.com/">123print.com</a>. Now, I will forewarn all of you (including those who will be receiving an invitation in their mailbox later this week), don't be expecting one of those fancy <i>shmancy</i> styles with ribbons and tissue paper, <i>blah blah blah</i>. But I was pleased with 123print for the following reasons:</span></span><br />
<ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Their <i>huge</i> selection of colors, styles, and themes. I'd had a heck-of-a-time finding a modern-looking, not-too-girly, summer-y, pink-and-orange choice at any of the other places I'd looked. But on this site I immediately found 3+ options that would mesh well with our wedding vibe. We finally ending up deciding on the <a href="http://www.123print.com/StudioAjax.aspx?ItemID=100576&DesignID=10116461">Watch Love Grow</a> style with coordinating response cards, rehearsal dinner invites, etc.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">They let you design <i>all</i> the wording, the font, the placement of the text, etc. at no additional charge. So many of the other invitation vendors had disclaimers listed like "$0.50 per invitation for an extra line of text" or "limited monograms available" etc. But at 123print.com, you design the whole thing from your personal computer on their extremely user-friendly website.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The prices! Wowwwweeeee! The envelopes are free, the shipping is free, it's fabulous! I'm just gonna lay it all out there for ya: We ordered 300 invitations with 300 matching envelopes, 300 response cards with 300 matching <i>pre-addressed</i> envelopes, and 50 rehearsal dinner invitations <i>with</i>... matching envelopes... for (<i>drumroll please...</i>) $165.74. This obviously kept us eons below our budgeted amount, which is now allowing us to splurge on professional floral arrangements for our reception centerpieces. (I know, I know... you're remembering <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/cookies-and-centerpieces-and-banners-oh.html">this post</a> where I detailed our homemade centerpiece idea. More on why we've changed our minds later...)</span></span></li>
</ol><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, they're sent. The (Probably) part of my post title comes from the fact that we were originally told that our reception hall holds 250 people MAX. So, when we were sending out 300 invitations (inviting almost 400 people in all! (oops)), we starting joking about how we would have to call and "un-invite" people if we didn't get enough "no" responses. Don't think we're asking you to decline, though, because after meeting with our banquet coordinator last night, we've learned that there will be plenty of space to accommodate a larger crowd. Phew!</span></span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-33935533641136461772011-03-31T20:06:00.001-05:002011-03-31T20:07:03.578-05:00Opening Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Don't you just love Opening Day? I don't know if I'm partial to the sport and times because my mom went into labor with me at a Cards' game (yet, since they had good seats, they didn't leave), but baseball season brings so many special memories: </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOFHqMwtbBb25BZMG-B7lQ8yTmlybqFNjjC32wd54v6-IrOYOsZMZM93LmrKxujtWuIibqADK3yvftReFxRhgB4764ONQb6RB8k3OtleNic10iXI8_siTDntVlmkEu_8IwuMORuqr5ren/s1600/IMG_9292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOFHqMwtbBb25BZMG-B7lQ8yTmlybqFNjjC32wd54v6-IrOYOsZMZM93LmrKxujtWuIibqADK3yvftReFxRhgB4764ONQb6RB8k3OtleNic10iXI8_siTDntVlmkEu_8IwuMORuqr5ren/s320/IMG_9292.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Opening weekend games in the <i>very</i> last row and a temperature just barely above freezing</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSM7z1WMYBE91os2B2DWHKTDMmRo2yUrtsZMqKDvRA__6IISnIgq072-pYrUfCYR9hcNi2gKW45RnbrdDOYv5Tj-zBaeMhyphenhyphenYs4gODvccDq-OFgHq-VQOA62kCs14Z2KLKzk7vs68YQLH0/s1600/Me+and+Brandon+at+Royals+Game.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSM7z1WMYBE91os2B2DWHKTDMmRo2yUrtsZMqKDvRA__6IISnIgq072-pYrUfCYR9hcNi2gKW45RnbrdDOYv5Tj-zBaeMhyphenhyphenYs4gODvccDq-OFgHq-VQOA62kCs14Z2KLKzk7vs68YQLH0/s320/Me+and+Brandon+at+Royals+Game.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Enjoying College Night Happy Hour before the game</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZjs0ySfDfaBjOsezJ-ooqjNekXKNPEM8SYPjvmA0Nk5kzEQfJws29BwG84H5HMH8tc8OaNjcd58E6ufAF2uOOKhDUF30ErnAxJcgkSH-YrOWifHBd_Ohzk7oEhVSO587Ik_n4HvwMDZL0/s1600/IMG_0344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZjs0ySfDfaBjOsezJ-ooqjNekXKNPEM8SYPjvmA0Nk5kzEQfJws29BwG84H5HMH8tc8OaNjcd58E6ufAF2uOOKhDUF30ErnAxJcgkSH-YrOWifHBd_Ohzk7oEhVSO587Ik_n4HvwMDZL0/s320/IMG_0344.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Taking my little cousins to their first professional baseball game (They weren't too happy about it. Quote of the Day by the 5-year-old: "This is <i>not</i> a real baseball game. The players are tiny. They look like mice.")</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLem9Mm5U_7KaHfjI4rpJB_2JLfOOtsISu7zoZZdbs19zpO5_55DmV6s1Bp0424QGCIM3Kf9HfhfnqeJUOzOy6qw-xQdx-Q1LLuQ2RnrujyONChiuWUiVeBVlWp3JZf3_W5zLpThn9oJR/s1600/IMG_0349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLem9Mm5U_7KaHfjI4rpJB_2JLfOOtsISu7zoZZdbs19zpO5_55DmV6s1Bp0424QGCIM3Kf9HfhfnqeJUOzOy6qw-xQdx-Q1LLuQ2RnrujyONChiuWUiVeBVlWp3JZf3_W5zLpThn9oJR/s320/IMG_0349.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE7kBO3VceHFwM8fjeqMGcjK2fDo_xudyNjWlCG-iJNxUiWRy4yZu4AygyvvjHV5IrtZrF3CTHZPnBIKgjSFNGzKjG_le49ela1kpT13vhOhyphenhyphenQ68oWpTPcQHBh8qjjZPRM1C3RcRttIFfg/s1600/IMG_0348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE7kBO3VceHFwM8fjeqMGcjK2fDo_xudyNjWlCG-iJNxUiWRy4yZu4AygyvvjHV5IrtZrF3CTHZPnBIKgjSFNGzKjG_le49ela1kpT13vhOhyphenhyphenQ68oWpTPcQHBh8qjjZPRM1C3RcRttIFfg/s320/IMG_0348.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Although they did enjoy the kiddie area</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj930019mr4GARMOf_BvAH8xG5kyXv2AQNqOL6J8CR66T_dIxUEl2r3TrtXTb6Nu9TH1aRD7WJAtPR5-xtkXJ6XeVJAumIgxCUJ4LKT-3zzbfnMvURXtHUhyW0atPwYNzeXKWvl-l0W3DxX/s1600/during+rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj930019mr4GARMOf_BvAH8xG5kyXv2AQNqOL6J8CR66T_dIxUEl2r3TrtXTb6Nu9TH1aRD7WJAtPR5-xtkXJ6XeVJAumIgxCUJ4LKT-3zzbfnMvURXtHUhyW0atPwYNzeXKWvl-l0W3DxX/s320/during+rain.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">90 minute rain delays</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNw9esOVL4aisTqAUGEuOn9Hk2b54THEEzDDpPDonYC64CIfqkXo8vuUDRUrVj2Ev4qRbofF2yp7XLcWvggJ2_tKxhhHQo69ie8sHuCQZ9Qcd8g2Bmp0KkDSTAB06YRgoQlIdOsHgVA39/s1600/too+hot%2521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNw9esOVL4aisTqAUGEuOn9Hk2b54THEEzDDpPDonYC64CIfqkXo8vuUDRUrVj2Ev4qRbofF2yp7XLcWvggJ2_tKxhhHQo69ie8sHuCQZ9Qcd8g2Bmp0KkDSTAB06YRgoQlIdOsHgVA39/s320/too+hot%2521.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">95-degree weather <i>after</i> the rain delay</span></td></tr>
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</a></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNGWd6WA_wgidLeV6cIZSuMsP6drbR8hq052CaQe1kB85evaVXGjFav1VtnP9JFlp6O5WSc5_8_sfgmI9hBSXJFWAZ-Yk8aqN7tYHzBo3X-PrrXvRpdFdv9dkZQgBoQwk6_hNQEYudLZL/s1600/IMG_0116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNGWd6WA_wgidLeV6cIZSuMsP6drbR8hq052CaQe1kB85evaVXGjFav1VtnP9JFlp6O5WSc5_8_sfgmI9hBSXJFWAZ-Yk8aqN7tYHzBo3X-PrrXvRpdFdv9dkZQgBoQwk6_hNQEYudLZL/s320/IMG_0116.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fireworks Fridays</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">One of the <i>many</i> reasons I <i>love</i> living in KC is the cheap-as-dirt baseball tickets. Ten dollar, or even $5, tickets are easy to come by, for just about any game except the Cardinals or possibly the Yankees. This makes for easy, spur-of-the-moment date nights, especially when we also score free parking from B's dad (his company has season tickets).</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqcctOCI09DgcidaYAx2KdCTHMDHiOg1bKotbAa6pWTWMB_ORdQ-CF1xtMUqEiEkT4inm0GMyMw8Eh-6faEseUSwgwgeaVOxmhtyUuJCkqMr8LD0_N6eq4XHe4nu54bpr_dwCxp6FTm2Ab/s1600/IMG_0099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqcctOCI09DgcidaYAx2KdCTHMDHiOg1bKotbAa6pWTWMB_ORdQ-CF1xtMUqEiEkT4inm0GMyMw8Eh-6faEseUSwgwgeaVOxmhtyUuJCkqMr8LD0_N6eq4XHe4nu54bpr_dwCxp6FTm2Ab/s320/IMG_0099.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUFqn-45IWSTAuBQthxKvN85WdnH0fHOly7rBHjOBw0flVo4qfJt8fscxfLqqEgccZ_YR4TNMdF05disDbYeGcoC9aN2aQIYgYUktO_ehNVMh69Q1kpEpXSZfM_mXOIy0mhiBifUD6hRNX/s1600/IMG_0113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUFqn-45IWSTAuBQthxKvN85WdnH0fHOly7rBHjOBw0flVo4qfJt8fscxfLqqEgccZ_YR4TNMdF05disDbYeGcoC9aN2aQIYgYUktO_ehNVMh69Q1kpEpXSZfM_mXOIy0mhiBifUD6hRNX/s320/IMG_0113.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisfIQHk48asmqLyAHhgvMrpy3Tmnmg-oIM4WWz0RRlEYhgiYChe63YzwP7ffTS4YPFPYm5a9HgsA3sCFeG5Z44bE5JV-SdP71XRjkuMYS1Yr5Yc8nXxFveFEgWRf_I6-i80Fy_Swg470a1/s1600/IMG_0102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisfIQHk48asmqLyAHhgvMrpy3Tmnmg-oIM4WWz0RRlEYhgiYChe63YzwP7ffTS4YPFPYm5a9HgsA3sCFeG5Z44bE5JV-SdP71XRjkuMYS1Yr5Yc8nXxFveFEgWRf_I6-i80Fy_Swg470a1/s320/IMG_0102.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUVaxLHHaBNrdr-N4vOyRxSlnhzBVzrfrhtfjg5WHJfr5-VXFsNIS4LtHwlCOezVPugjWQWFX9zduzE6YyUji4_8iS2Gn92AXeAFOCC_mEgjE0n8UY3GuuODOXj8fRNZumPZg1WjFodZ2/s1600/IMG_0100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> My favorite party of a baseball game is about the 6th or 7th inning when the sun has sunk below the bleachers, the lights illuminate the field, and the crowd is fully-enraptured in the game. There's something magical--<i>romantic</i>, even--about this time of the game, and it's this feeling that I <i>love</i> about baseball season.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUVaxLHHaBNrdr-N4vOyRxSlnhzBVzrfrhtfjg5WHJfr5-VXFsNIS4LtHwlCOezVPugjWQWFX9zduzE6YyUji4_8iS2Gn92AXeAFOCC_mEgjE0n8UY3GuuODOXj8fRNZumPZg1WjFodZ2/s1600/IMG_0100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUVaxLHHaBNrdr-N4vOyRxSlnhzBVzrfrhtfjg5WHJfr5-VXFsNIS4LtHwlCOezVPugjWQWFX9zduzE6YyUji4_8iS2Gn92AXeAFOCC_mEgjE0n8UY3GuuODOXj8fRNZumPZg1WjFodZ2/s320/IMG_0100.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Opening Day is more than just the start of baseball season, though. It means that the winter nastiness is finally over. Barbecues, pool parties, outside-run season, vacations, and more are not far now. This <i>particular</i> season will bring all sorts of excitement; by the World Series, I'll be married, living in a new apartment, with my own classroom (hopefully).</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Take me out to the ballgame...</span></div><br />
</div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-17040694802290476262011-03-29T17:14:00.001-05:002011-03-29T17:18:14.813-05:00Alone-Together Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It seems to surprise people when they find out I'm an introvert. I often get a, "Nooooooo..." in response, as a matter of fact. People at work always say, "But you're so <i>happy</i> all the time!" As though they would know better than I do. And as though all introverts walk around in a cloudy, gray bubble of depression. But I think the real discrepancy comes in the fact that these people don't understand what being an introvert or an extrovert really means.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Shy people are often described as "introverted" and outgoing people as "extroverted." This is the definition I <i>myself</i> knew, until a couple of years ago in a graduate class when we took the <a href="http://www.myersbriggs.org/my-mbti-personality-type/mbti-basics/">Meyers-Briggs Personality Test</a>. No matter your feelings on the accuracy of the test, it was helpful for me to understand the different characteristics listed, and examine the actions of myself and others within that perspective.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This professor of mine explained that <span style="color: magenta;">introverts</span> are energized by being alone and drained of energy by being around other people. <span style="color: magenta;">Extroverts</span>, on the other hand, is a person who is energized by being around other people. (I verified this information just now on <a href="http://about.com/">about.com</a>. That's right--find a more credible source. I <i>dare </i>you.)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This new information just clicked with me (actually, since we're on a psychology path here, I assimilated this information easily into my existing schemata). I had always wondered why, after a looooong, stressful week of school and work, I craved a night in with my Instant <a href="http://www.netflix.com/">Netflix</a>, but my roommate was ready to party.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUw3l5qeBaOxWn2zV9ELzcwFCKhv1cWzf1jTviGfI25n6Vwb5u-gckO5RIxcMq-W-_w_m5bWevhAH2fz5BO7m8e9fgMzBhQRBggyD01n9YDs0jmikzhvVp2y0DZu8DEpKlp2L3wQmj2dTe/s200/me+and+rachel.jpg" width="133" /></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The times that I did join in with the festivities left me feeling even more exhausted and counting down the minutes until 11pm, which I deemed the earliest point at which I could go home.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It also helped explain why, after a weekend trip with the family, I absolutely <i>had </i>to remove myself to my bedroom and spend an evening painting my nails and listening to music instead of watching a movie with my parents. (On this particular night, my dad actually barged into my room at about 10pm because he was "worried" about me--I think he thought my introversion was a suicidal sign. I assured him it was not.) </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This isn't to say I don't enjoy myself around other people. I <i>do</i>, and I <i>am</i> outgoing and social--as long as I've already had that time to myself to recharge my batteries.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This revelation wasn't long after B and I had <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not.html">become serious</a>, and I started to worry about what this meant for me in a relationship. How could I ever <i>live</i> <i>with</i> somebody? How could I ever have someone else around 24/7 and <i>avoid</i> snapping at them and being <i>downright rude</i> like I'd been to my parents when I lived in their house?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Although it took some time, those worries have finally abated. As I got to know B better, I realized that he, too, was an introvert. Although he's never taken the Meyers-Briggs test that I took, I've observed (and we've discussed) that he, too, energizes with alone time. What's even more fantastic, is that over the past four years, I've come to the point where time that is spent with B relaxing together at home, whether that's reading, watching Netflix, or playing a video game, can also be re-charging for me. I call it our <span style="color: magenta;">"alone-together" time</span>. I think that's one of the ways I really <i>knew</i> that B and I could make this commitment to be married. As an introvert, I'd finally found someone that I could energize with--or, at least, that didn't drain my energy source.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkH0AQGvkrprxMWkhA_1wAab5540TgcNoUlEqMcXx4Y9WtQLz3pmXNKzcHRJermp87x1e_UMnqOjPxMAJE0eHJlLOslaDj45smgP8NKmS3OCMMwxhiWlvhJxoclwlWecimPM6bxVBlSWfs/s1600/IMG_0083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkH0AQGvkrprxMWkhA_1wAab5540TgcNoUlEqMcXx4Y9WtQLz3pmXNKzcHRJermp87x1e_UMnqOjPxMAJE0eHJlLOslaDj45smgP8NKmS3OCMMwxhiWlvhJxoclwlWecimPM6bxVBlSWfs/s200/IMG_0083.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Alone-together" time is still something we have to work at. Since I'm still living at my parents' house, our time in the evenings is limited, and we sometimes find ourselves feeling pressured to "do something" during those times--go out for a drink, watch a movie, have ice cream, etc. We've talked about how in order for two introverts to <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/02/shedding-new-light-on-our-living.html">successfully live with one another</a>, we'll have to practice our "alone-together" time even more--those times when we're both at home, but B is vegging out in front of the TV watching basketball while I'm catching up on my favorite blogs on my computer.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Lastly, I've been pondering this: Do couples work best if their introvert-introvert or extrovert-extrovert? How does an extrovert-introvert couple both maintain their sanity as well as their relationship? What do you think?</span></span><br />
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</div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-88765025255693859082011-03-27T20:56:00.000-05:002011-03-27T20:56:57.588-05:00Snack Attack!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It's 8:45pm and I just had strawberry yogurt with a few chocolate chips stirred in. (Okay, a few more than a few.)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It's not a terrible snack choice. But after three fun-sized candy bars throughout the day (leftovers from our bridal shower over the weekend), I probably didn't need the extra chocolate.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Somehow, though, I just couldn't resist. It's a habit I've created over the past 23 years. It doesn't matter that I had a very filling, very nutritious dinner at 7:00. It doesn't matter that I'll be getting up to have a protein-packed breakfast in less than nine hours. The before-bed snack is one habit I just can't seem to break.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I do so well throughout the day--an hour long workout, pre-planned meals and snacks, loaded with fruits, veggies, protein, and whole grains. But when B and I settle in for the evening with an episode of Dexter on <a href="http://www.netflix.com/">Netflix</a>, all I can think about is my evening snack. And just the yogurt wouldn't do--the chocolate chips are a must.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>Katie, you're not even hungry</i>, I tell myself. That backfires, though, as I spend the next thirty to forty minutes <i>convincing</i> myself that I am, in fact, hungry. However, as my spoon scrapes the empty plastic of another defeated yogurt container, I think to myself, <i>Dang it</i>.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Do you have a vice? A habit you just can't seem to break? Any suggestions for how to calm the urge?</span></span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-81224956713320108682011-03-24T08:00:00.001-05:002011-03-29T17:19:58.298-05:00He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">You know the story of <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/02/blockbuster-boy.html">how we met</a>.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And you know the story of <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/shrek-third.html">our first date</a>.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And you know the story of our proposal... oh, wait, I actually haven't told you that one yet, but no worries, it's coming.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But I haven't told you the in-between. And a lot happens between a first date and a proposal. Well, a lot happened for <i>us</i> between a first date and a proposal, anyway. If you're like my parents, who were engaged within six weeks, or some friends of ours, who were engaged within three months, maybe that part of your story isn't as long. But for us it was.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'd like to tell you that everything was smooth-sailing between May 23, 2007 (our first date) and December 23, 2009 (our engagement), but that would be a lie. We didn't have any ground-breaking fights or do any of that back-and-forth "we're together, now we're not" stuff. But we did have our differences. If it weren't for the advice of my older cousin Jenny, who told me that "<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">All guys have quirks</span>," I'm not sure we'd still be together.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">After the big Shrek the Third night, B didn't call for three days. On day one, I figured he was living by the old adage of waiting at least 24 hours. On day two, I started to get a little disappointed. By day three, I was convinced I was never going to hear from him again. And, actually, this continued for the rest of the summer. Each time I'd reach the point when I was sure he'd lost interest and moved on, my phone would ring. Why didn't I call him myself? You'll remember I was living by a new philosophy; I was trying to prove to B (and to myself) that I could be a GWTFEG (go-with-the-flow-easy-going) kind of gal. And in my mind, waiting for his call was part of that game.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Quirk #2 was a little problem that B seemed to have with time. It wasn't rare for him to say he'd "stop by after work," (which, to me, meant 5:30 or 6:00pm), then not show up until 8 or 9pm. Looking back, I'm honestly surprised I put up with that. Anyone who knows me is probably pretty surprised themselves. Maybe it was because of my GWTFEG strategy, maybe it was all the build-up of dating Blockbuster Boy, or maybe I was just allowing myself to be a doormat--but either way, I'm glad I stuck it out.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As we neared the fateful day in August, when I'd be moving back to Kirksville for another year of school, and he'd remain in KC, I knew we were going to have to have The Conversation. Somehow, we'd gone the whole summer without ever actually <i>defining</i> our relationship. Oh, believe me, I wanted to. I wanted to <i>baaaaaad</i>. But, GWTFEG girls don't worry about that sort of thing, so I pretended I wasn't worried either.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">However, another wise woman I know helped me to realize that this wasn't really fair to myself. "<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">You have a right to know</span>," she said. "<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">You have a right to lay down some ground rules and establish some guidelines. It's only fair, and it's only safe</span>." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It finally came down to three days before I was moving. Just as we were parting after an evening spent watching Dave Chappelle's stand-up comedy (B's choice, not mine), I decided I needed to brave the topic. It went something like this:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Me: "So, you know I'm leaving for Kirksville in three days."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">B: "Yeah, I know. I'm really going to miss you."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Me: "So, what do you wanna do when I leave?"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">B: "Well, I'll see you whenever you come home."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Me: "Okay."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">B: "I really like you, I just don't want you to miss out on anything at school." (Sounds like a line from <i>He's Just Not That Into You</i>, right?)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Me: "Okay."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">B left that night, and I went upstairs to get ready for bed, a little upset, but not really all that surprised. For some reason, this was my luck with guys. I never seemed to have a shortage of guys wanting to hang out, go on dates, etc., but when it came time to actually commit? Not interested.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was brushing my teeth, wallowing in my despair at losing Blockbuster Boy, when my cell phone rang.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">B: "Can I take it back?"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Me: "What?"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">B: "Can I take it back?"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Me: "Okay."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">B: "I don't know what I was thinking. I really like you."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Me: "I really like you, too."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">B: "But if we're going to do this, we have to really do it. We both have to be in it 100%. I just don't want to mess around."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Me: "Me either."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">B: "So, we're going to do this?"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Me: "Sounds like it."</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">At this point, we hung up the phone, and I tore down the stairs, toothbrush still in hand. "We're staying together!!!!" I shrieked as I felt into my parents' room.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">After that phone call, it was honestly like a switch was flipped. B resolved both Quirk #1 and Quirk #2 without me even having to ask. It was like dating a whole new guy--Mr. Committed. (Not that he doesn't have quirks <i>now</i>. It's still true that <i>all</i> guys have quirks. It's all about whether or not those quirks are dealbreakers.)</span></span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-30001905599244966642011-03-23T16:00:00.002-05:002011-03-23T16:00:07.556-05:00Two Cooks in the Kitchen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">One thing B and I love to do is try a new recipe. When I was living in Kirksville and he'd drive up to visit for a weekend, we'd almost always try a new recipe. That's how we discovered one of our all time faves--<a href="http://www.hungry-girl.com/newsletters/raw/710">a de-calorified version of Chicken Pot Pie from Hungry Girl</a> (P.S. If you try this one, I use canned chicken to make it even easier). <a href="http://www.hungry-girl.com/">Hungry Girl</a> is an old standby recipe source, but recently we've been turning to the <a href="http://www.google.com/products/catalog?hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=wbp&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=taste+of+home+diet+comfort+food+cookbook&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.&um=1&ie=UTF-8&cid=2145102294287834650&sa=X&ei=-BiJTfL9MZKosQOv6OD6Cw&ved=0CE0Q8wIwBQ#">Taste of Home Comfort Food Diet cookbook</a>. My best friend gave it to me for Christmas, swearing that I'd love it, and she's right. So far, we've tried seven or eight of the recipes and they've all been a huge hit. The new <a href="http://www.tasteofhome.com/Press-Room/Press-Releases/Taste-of-Home-Comfort-Food-Diet-Cookbook-New-Family-Classics-Collection">Family Classics Collection</a> is definitely on my wish list, as well.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We've had less opportunities to cook for ourselves recently, as I'm living with my parents (and if my mom's going to cook, we might as well eat her food!), and B stocks his fridge like any 26-year-old bachelor (the last time I opened his fridge he had beer, bagels, and barbecue sauce). But last Sunday night, my parents were eating with friends, and the weather was 75-degrees, so we treated ourselves to a new recipe enjoyed on the screened-in porch.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JkP7cTpaERbKCpN2vNbt5PfEc1peOjL0U8PG2V-F40m1hxLfY_Ra4noUKPmgCl6T6SHku9SSdS8ufK2pIprx247m5Dw_pml0zjA70LkHc4ngzw5oa-PcpluFabf0HQUjT7TTJ5zgR95V/s1600/IMG_0780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JkP7cTpaERbKCpN2vNbt5PfEc1peOjL0U8PG2V-F40m1hxLfY_Ra4noUKPmgCl6T6SHku9SSdS8ufK2pIprx247m5Dw_pml0zjA70LkHc4ngzw5oa-PcpluFabf0HQUjT7TTJ5zgR95V/s320/IMG_0780.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The meal was <a href="http://www.vegetariantimes.com/lunchchallenge/day12/">Roasted Vegetable Linguine with Torn Fresh Basil</a> from <a href="http://www.vegetariantimes.com/">Vegetarian Times</a> magazine (no, neither of us are vegetarians, but we love lots of veggies, so I scope their website for recipes!). It calls for white wine, and since Rachel Ray says she would never cook with a wine she wouldn't drink, we enjoyed opening a bottle and sipping a glass while we roasted the veggies.</span></span><br />
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</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMu5NIp_tIfVxmZJIVcEsb5yZn-w8YySH3waFQK9j72SL3FE__Y_EQULjWx6rPiaWYJzfodD1lnw8KQI-vYuvJ4FNqeAMmGN4gGBo9bosHs_MncDOa8LuMa2IKR8_wt0Vgytm375cK3Vio/s1600/IMG_0772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMu5NIp_tIfVxmZJIVcEsb5yZn-w8YySH3waFQK9j72SL3FE__Y_EQULjWx6rPiaWYJzfodD1lnw8KQI-vYuvJ4FNqeAMmGN4gGBo9bosHs_MncDOa8LuMa2IKR8_wt0Vgytm375cK3Vio/s320/IMG_0772.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">One thing that I've come to learn about myself is that I definitely have some difficulty surrendering control. But, B has convinced me that he is capable of helping me in the kitchen. And, although I like to give him a hard time about how long it takes him to do simple cooking tasks, I not only have learned to appreciate the help, but I really enjoy the time we spend cooking together. Plus, it meshes with my resolution of being </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: magenta;"><a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/shrek-third.html">GWTFEG</a><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHbEGu63t20k0n3-Vf9Fv9PBh3RTpeWB89uSBL3IYaDWOyrTTTRQkEpUjbvLHsN1OFQkyu0_h1f2KN0_091zd9nNb3GwCGUFkfR8zal1bMSc9qi2a5CTeMTRMCy1bgDLm7b-3TyJ3QUQHQ/s1600/IMG_0771.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHbEGu63t20k0n3-Vf9Fv9PBh3RTpeWB89uSBL3IYaDWOyrTTTRQkEpUjbvLHsN1OFQkyu0_h1f2KN0_091zd9nNb3GwCGUFkfR8zal1bMSc9qi2a5CTeMTRMCy1bgDLm7b-3TyJ3QUQHQ/s320/IMG_0771.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See? I let him cut vegetables.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ7I4uhxZBSliz1Ber55Mi1b6hIdiPH1sWWQM1oyrIVtjnQDEnCtvxmKutVfCTd2f3eaBz4Knl6wtKumeDrQ4fQ1JsJXFyM8wQxop2Q4lN5EcCFwaomxy7KIDqXJspH4wYln_QIxd3N3OT/s1600/IMG_0770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ7I4uhxZBSliz1Ber55Mi1b6hIdiPH1sWWQM1oyrIVtjnQDEnCtvxmKutVfCTd2f3eaBz4Knl6wtKumeDrQ4fQ1JsJXFyM8wQxop2Q4lN5EcCFwaomxy7KIDqXJspH4wYln_QIxd3N3OT/s320/IMG_0770.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And what a fine job he did! Don't you just love the look of fresh vegetables? All those bright colors. What a great summery dish :-)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I loved our Sunday night dinner. And it was the perfect way to spend an evening together before <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/lonely-me-lonely-you.html">B's business trip</a>.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-26899915048419252572011-03-22T16:00:00.003-05:002011-03-22T17:11:31.871-05:00The Realm of Harry Potter Dorkitude<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I mentioned that B and I had spent part of our <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/arts-and-crafts-night.html">Arts and Crafts Night</a> working on our costumes for a Harry Potter-themed party we were attending in the near future. Well, the near future came and went last Friday night. The party was hosted by some good friends (and fellow <a href="http://thekansascityexplorer.blogspot.com/">blogger</a>), one of whom decided to ring in her 26th year HP-style.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">B and I are both long-time HP fans. Actually, the summer we started dating, I knew B really cared about me when he read the entire newly-released seventh book in one weekend. (I read it in one night... but it's not a competition...) Since then, we've seen every movie the day it came out, and have each re-read the books (and then dissected them together) multiple times. So, this HP party was right up our alley. And we were able to hold our own in a night of trivia games amongst other die-hard fans (even though Charades is not B's forte).</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">After much deliberation (B <i>really</i> wanted to go as Dobby), we chose to go as Gryffindor Quidditch players--Katie Bell and Oliver Wood, to be specific.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I designed a little sumpthin'-sumpthin' on Photoshop, and we printed two copies onto transfer paper:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjTsfm-fE_rhCTnzyOrLMfJuee51AZArf7qjLIuZPVymZyTz31_VCwphN-XePNa5slLaP9YfJC5p_tBBq3aQ7c3_Tv0EkPJVuQgQPV7RbQdoEHqd_6uandTWrbpo4I_EmdjwPuh5xxhj9c/s1600/IMG_0736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjTsfm-fE_rhCTnzyOrLMfJuee51AZArf7qjLIuZPVymZyTz31_VCwphN-XePNa5slLaP9YfJC5p_tBBq3aQ7c3_Tv0EkPJVuQgQPV7RbQdoEHqd_6uandTWrbpo4I_EmdjwPuh5xxhj9c/s320/IMG_0736.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imagine this is rotated 90-degrees clockwise--long story short, my free Photoshop trial ran out and I'm waiting for my shipment of the real thing to get here before I can edit photos again.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL77BUkTaK23kg5X5j4pgNei1ghbF2C-_tPnSMyfINU9oEB22CddIPDK3peaJm0vxxb3g3woWU_7rRGhJCuZfFYZvvqyDEiAcaMIchUvNL-Y3PDAG9aqyNns9HXeMSzqil-aiskNYhK-4I/s1600/IMG_0735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL77BUkTaK23kg5X5j4pgNei1ghbF2C-_tPnSMyfINU9oEB22CddIPDK3peaJm0vxxb3g3woWU_7rRGhJCuZfFYZvvqyDEiAcaMIchUvNL-Y3PDAG9aqyNns9HXeMSzqil-aiskNYhK-4I/s320/IMG_0735.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Take note of the little "Quidditch League" emblem we included--they ended up on the sleeves like a jersey :-)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
After two failed attempts on my part (1. forgetting to remove the backing from the iron-on, and basically ironing the design to a piece of paper, and 2. choosing to iron on a cutting board that we only <i>thought</i> was heat-resistant, and thereby fusing one T-shirt to a white plastic cutting board), we successfully created the following:</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWu0cMte2UL1neU_wztuWB5ENE55ZtEcfey_CxF8KobdpI_RXlf73A0vMfKKWZcIIbPnWG0wDbo4y_lbt2ZtgOCwGbJdA6tONv4H7RAdzz4ZWL6CwdLOobYV4dZaBSkOUUt7KMI8p8XaBE/s1600/IMG_0756.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWu0cMte2UL1neU_wztuWB5ENE55ZtEcfey_CxF8KobdpI_RXlf73A0vMfKKWZcIIbPnWG0wDbo4y_lbt2ZtgOCwGbJdA6tONv4H7RAdzz4ZWL6CwdLOobYV4dZaBSkOUUt7KMI8p8XaBE/s320/IMG_0756.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_46pXLzv8SHFAgMho9LyJnoxYZszVzElPlem59XRftny_Bzl-AokP-0Y3TSO7AdwRZ9vQqFjk6GB1QDdYnolbcXkp2jy6eSLH_sujx6QovcQko0oJt6-QI6vJ2tD8FQkUDzFkzm9rH2A/s1600/IMG_0758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_46pXLzv8SHFAgMho9LyJnoxYZszVzElPlem59XRftny_Bzl-AokP-0Y3TSO7AdwRZ9vQqFjk6GB1QDdYnolbcXkp2jy6eSLH_sujx6QovcQko0oJt6-QI6vJ2tD8FQkUDzFkzm9rH2A/s320/IMG_0758.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5czUqinfanQJHtRON4mhZmtkCKr45qdf3AudKyicHE3s9nNQpO-eSXFlaULL5rBLR8sl4PzxsHTXgbLJ2GL-F4u0SepKRERtXorqMYlw4l3TIgwCdWhcXDjbbuXf3SWmWFFzGA48BvDf9/s1600/IMG_0760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5czUqinfanQJHtRON4mhZmtkCKr45qdf3AudKyicHE3s9nNQpO-eSXFlaULL5rBLR8sl4PzxsHTXgbLJ2GL-F4u0SepKRERtXorqMYlw4l3TIgwCdWhcXDjbbuXf3SWmWFFzGA48BvDf9/s320/IMG_0760.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP1R0_kuFnSltjmVv_hDybtfG2XNECASTSAHTc75hT39GTJdHg0PtXS1agpExDk6HIObHJZgyvt-75rxYYlAtI-chVTT2WWGeM9obDmdRQe_q1HS0rW66qgtZH7Jk7F2DiZx7_r7hZzY34/s1600/IMG_0762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP1R0_kuFnSltjmVv_hDybtfG2XNECASTSAHTc75hT39GTJdHg0PtXS1agpExDk6HIObHJZgyvt-75rxYYlAtI-chVTT2WWGeM9obDmdRQe_q1HS0rW66qgtZH7Jk7F2DiZx7_r7hZzY34/s320/IMG_0762.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Quick, easy, and painless (well, except for the two fails mentioned above), and we had attire for our HP party. Not to mention that any party that allows me to attend in stretchy pants and tennis shoes is OK by me.</span></span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-49249671764257781592011-03-21T20:52:00.002-05:002011-03-22T18:14:58.164-05:00A Lonely Me, A Lonely You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This week feels like a throwback to my college years. Not because I'm staying up until 2am, sleeping 'til 10am, or spending the day in my sweatpants (I wish!), but because B and I are, once again, separated by a three-hour drive.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I've mentioned before that B and I did the long-distance thing from 2007-2010, while I went to school in Kirksville, MO and B resided at home in KC. I spent those three years dreading Sundays (when we'd go to our separate states) and living for Fridays (when we were finally reunited). Last night felt like one of the old Sundays. I made us dinner, we watched a couple episodes of Dexter... it was a nice night except for the omnipresence of dread for our goodbye.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I remember when I traveled abroad in Spain for an entire summer in 2008. </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1n60klipk4Ug0XxafhDFGQAcchQrHxjvP2DXNOO9Dq0YYX2zHRUc895IrGp65yAkZBT0hz-VkpMcZPqngWnKByNa83sl_PM6R5zH1H57dKMePn4-TCQ9olttbnikZw84VAWxWvbKR8JCO/s1600/View+of+Avila.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1n60klipk4Ug0XxafhDFGQAcchQrHxjvP2DXNOO9Dq0YYX2zHRUc895IrGp65yAkZBT0hz-VkpMcZPqngWnKByNa83sl_PM6R5zH1H57dKMePn4-TCQ9olttbnikZw84VAWxWvbKR8JCO/s320/View+of+Avila.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NnoNYRfPkPs1hFTxsHru9I9f0PI9aFEYaqxHlpsNaQ4jP2ap5hsPcGesOBxfGZDaq8xWrPV3FAjyFJ_Jzs67ynO1fsW9w5lts4OAInI9-jJYuJhSF4nY1-Sq1sW6FGGKVGdwD6xvRD-N/s1600/La+Sagrada+Familia.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NnoNYRfPkPs1hFTxsHru9I9f0PI9aFEYaqxHlpsNaQ4jP2ap5hsPcGesOBxfGZDaq8xWrPV3FAjyFJ_Jzs67ynO1fsW9w5lts4OAInI9-jJYuJhSF4nY1-Sq1sW6FGGKVGdwD6xvRD-N/s320/La+Sagrada+Familia.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhop_tEsNBQJUKaeufoD51VdbttDXvGsV8e8ZAfqRSpbnn67KCSRu3CQvDLIsnhJq8RB3LKp6gaLpAiDCBLgVkjUsfpOmA0NfMcq71RPILuqqc7DXR-SbFPu4j0zr3rT4a8DQydhyphenhyphennH0pud/s1600/Generalife.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhop_tEsNBQJUKaeufoD51VdbttDXvGsV8e8ZAfqRSpbnn67KCSRu3CQvDLIsnhJq8RB3LKp6gaLpAiDCBLgVkjUsfpOmA0NfMcq71RPILuqqc7DXR-SbFPu4j0zr3rT4a8DQydhyphenhyphennH0pud/s320/Generalife.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRbfRiaSnEb6uwWtvE0axCc7ojv4qJMn5nak7TvDijuLMGWgZVOUI3IZNRDpm2ED_qJZuDaNt1-qNDNnw5k-EP4lBVly_mbkRkUjV8lCMdxi7kb8B6gsvvwnD4eJo2n9Ffb-lZcaiO0TfK/s1600/Generalife+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRbfRiaSnEb6uwWtvE0axCc7ojv4qJMn5nak7TvDijuLMGWgZVOUI3IZNRDpm2ED_qJZuDaNt1-qNDNnw5k-EP4lBVly_mbkRkUjV8lCMdxi7kb8B6gsvvwnD4eJo2n9Ffb-lZcaiO0TfK/s320/Generalife+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrAE_hXE2Ght5N76pa44KDzjJ12haVjXm3stb2hVIVUVBHAi-EKwrSlxDLh56pCjh0aG0OauedJ_Wc8QsAPFdkGmL1D5TbnqAwXOkqEiU3glNkz0NttpFNvGmVEteLK9tmYjN-j_1yGxP/s1600/View+from+Alcazaba+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrAE_hXE2Ght5N76pa44KDzjJ12haVjXm3stb2hVIVUVBHAi-EKwrSlxDLh56pCjh0aG0OauedJ_Wc8QsAPFdkGmL1D5TbnqAwXOkqEiU3glNkz0NttpFNvGmVEteLK9tmYjN-j_1yGxP/s320/View+from+Alcazaba+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9f8jv7Fut8IqgMh6ysUu_HmORyT5_3oFENqfVFyH0AK61LRpZUIsq5tyT97vF8GSFlHSecN0G3s9RL7cLylQT3G5YcBkgD_mjMybaNYeavK5c_UYraRzCmipnML9W646ZWefXkMW55W4a/s1600/Espa%25C3%25B1a%253ARusia+6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9f8jv7Fut8IqgMh6ysUu_HmORyT5_3oFENqfVFyH0AK61LRpZUIsq5tyT97vF8GSFlHSecN0G3s9RL7cLylQT3G5YcBkgD_mjMybaNYeavK5c_UYraRzCmipnML9W646ZWefXkMW55W4a/s320/Espa%25C3%25B1a%253ARusia+6.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">(<i>Oh, oops! Those just slipped right in there.)</i></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i> </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">B and I had been dating a year at this time, and although we both knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience I couldn't pass up, the distance was horrible. I'd never missed somebody so badly that it physically <i>hurt</i>, but I remember moments when the feeling was almost unbearable. It was the little things I missed. One day, after a month or so of being abroad, I realized I hadn't been hugged since B dropped me off at the airport in KC. I don't think another person had intentionally touched me in all that time--and don't make this gross, I don't even just mean in a <i>sexual</i> way. There's something just <i>sad</i> about that.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's just a four-day conference in Wichita, KS. But my evenings don't felt right without him. I'm just grateful he only travels once a year. I look at these young couples whose job require monthly travel (or even more often!) and I don't know how they do it. Without B around, I just don't feel right. He's my "other half". Heck, I even miss him when we're both at work for the day!</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Looking forward to Thursday... </span></div></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-20769147843805981042011-03-18T18:12:00.001-05:002011-03-19T14:44:32.941-05:00Quotes: Be Gone!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Scroll through my first twenty-ish posts so far, and you'll notice that I established a routine of heading each entry with a quote. Specifically, a quote about marriage, relationships, etc. (A quote about the theme of my blog! Go figure.) However, I've decided this tradition needs to be cut short.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I've been pretty disappointed with the overwhelmingly negative quotes I've been finding on the subject of marriage. Sarcasm, bitterness, and all around anti-matrimony prevail in any Google search for "quotes about marriage" or "marriage quotes". Some of the most common search returns?</span></span><br />
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<div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life." ~ Rita Rudner </span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Divorce: The past tense of marriage." ~ Author unknown</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Valentine's Day is when a lot of married men are reminded what a poor shot Cupid really is." ~ Author unknown</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Three rings of marriage are the engagement ring, the wedding ring, and the suffering." ~ Author unknown</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Bigamy is having one husband or wife too many. Monogamy is the same." ~ Oscar Wilde</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Marriage means commitment. Of course, so does insanity." ~ Author unknown</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"I never knew what real happiness was until I got married. And by then it was too late." ~ Max Kauffman</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Wedding rings: the world's smallest handcuffs." ~ Author unknown</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Okay, don't think I have no sense of humor. But reading these every day while scrolling through looking for a quote applicable to my most recent blog entry was beginning to be quite a downer for a bride-to-be less than three months away from her wedding. I know that there might be some truth to some of the statements. And I know that a marriage needs some humor in it to succeed. But I'm just not sure these "jokes" are what I want my marriage based on. (I found it ironic that so many of these negative thoughts were from unknown authors--maybe somebody would be a little embarrassed if their spouse found out what they were saying behind their back?!)</span></span></span></span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Here are some of the few I found that I hope someday <i>do </i>describe my marriage:</span></span></span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"What a happy and holy fashion it is that those who love one another should rest on the same pillow." ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Newlyweds become oldyweds, and oldyweds are the reasons that families work."</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person." ~ Mignon McLaughlin</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"In every marriage more than a week old, there are grounds for divorce. The trick is to find, and continue to find, grounds for marriage." ~ Robert Anderson</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"There is no such cozy combination as man and wife." ~ Menander</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"In the opinion of the world, marriage ends all, as it does in comedy. The truth is precisely the opposite: it begins all." ~ Anne Sophie Swetchine</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"In a time when nothing is more certain than change, the commitment of two people to one another has become difficult and rare. Yet, by its scarcity, the beauty and value of this exchange have only been enhanced." ~ Robert Sexton</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"There is no substitute for the comfort supplied by the utterly taken-for-granted relationship." ~ Iris Murdoch</span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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And, lastly, one of my favorite bloggers sums it up well in this <a href="http://www.bowerpowerblog.com/2008/09/letter-to-my-boyfriend/">letter to her boyfriend</a> (You should really take a second to read the whole letter. It's adorable.): </span></span></span></span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"In today’s society people choose a spouse and a have a lawn guy (or a physical trainer or a pool boy) on the side. But you see, I want my cake and wanna eat it too. Sure you are my legal spouse. But people don’t understand that you are also my boytoy. You are the guy that I chose almost one year ago. And you are the guy that I will choose tomorrow. But let’s be honest, we live in a society that says husbands are not the same as being one’s boyfriend."</span></span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">~ Katie Bower </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></span></div><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span> </span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">I don't plan to have a stereotypical marriage where I complain because he doesn't do anything and he feels secretly bitter towards me. I'm sure that nobody goes into a marriage <i>expecting</i> a relationship such as that (or maybe they do?), but from the looks of what society feels is a funny--or even an okay--portrayal of marriage, we have accepted marriage as a constant state of bitterness. Sitcoms, movies, books, magazines--single and free is fun and exciting. Marriage? <i>Blech</i>. Leave it for the bitter old people who are sneaking around behind their spouses backs getting it on with the neighbor's out-of-town guests.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">When B and I decided that we wanted to be together for the rest of our lives, we agreed to enter into a partnership. We agreed to support each other through thick and thin, and to me, that means something.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">I was relieved to see a quote in my browsing from the philosopher whom B reads, quotes, and values endlessly:</span></span></span><br />
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</div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">"Marriage: that I call the will of two to create the one who is more than those who created it." ~ Friedrich Nietzsche</span> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, to sum up my incessant ramblings, I will no longer be subscribing to the format I originally created. I will be supporting a positive viewpoint of marriage; one that reinforces the vows I'll be pledging in 84 days. And, although you might see a quote pop up here and there, I'll be retiring my <a href="http://www.quotegarden.com/marriage.html">Quote Garden</a> bookmark from my Firefox toolbar.</span></span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGqay-gni9EWM18xpPWf_wzbPMPbeCs4VkAKAtsZscNkWRVGIR9C1g_eNri41m4NZ095hIwpmqlTzo1wiW2S-8mjXQxjB7SqnHdBm_odik1l6A9kdnaiXIK0oVaJWb4fObhorCceJ36Rk/s1600/Katie+and+Brandon+Engagement+Night+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGqay-gni9EWM18xpPWf_wzbPMPbeCs4VkAKAtsZscNkWRVGIR9C1g_eNri41m4NZ095hIwpmqlTzo1wiW2S-8mjXQxjB7SqnHdBm_odik1l6A9kdnaiXIK0oVaJWb4fObhorCceJ36Rk/s320/Katie+and+Brandon+Engagement+Night+2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
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</span></span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-30033356876569208072011-03-16T15:36:00.000-05:002011-03-16T15:36:34.531-05:00Cookies, and Centerpieces, and Banners, Oh My!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif; font-size: large;">When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions, they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal, and exhausting condition continuously until death do them part.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif; font-size: large;">~ G. B. Shaw</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Is it bad that all the quotes I find on marriage are extremely cynical? That is, if they're not incredibly corny.)</span></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">With less than three months to go, we're officially neck deep in wedding projects (hence <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/2011/03/arts-and-crafts-night.html">Arts and Crafts Night</a> earlier this week). I've spent the last year and three months or so with DIY wedding projects flying around in my head. I even have a "Wedding" tab on my bookmarks toolbar with various inspirations, and spent countless hours pondering: do I like these <a href="http://www.marthastewartweddings.com/photogallery/bows-arts#slide_9" style="color: #3d85c6;">favor boxes</a>, these <a href="http://www.marthastewartweddings.com/photogallery/best-cookie-favors#slide_15" style="color: #a64d79;">favor cookies</a>, <i>these</i> <a href="http://www.marthastewartweddings.com/photogallery/best-cookie-favors#slide_13" style="color: #e69138;">favor cookies</a>, these <a href="http://www.marthastewartweddings.com/photogallery/non-floral-centerpieces#slide_10" style="color: #674ea7;">centerpieces</a>,<i> </i>or<i> these <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_222416741" style="color: #38761d;"></a></i><a href="http://www.marthastewartweddings.com/photogallery/non-floral-centerpieces#slide_5" style="color: #6aa84f;">centerpieces</a>? (You can see that I spent an awful lot of time on <a href="http://marthastewartweddings.com/" style="color: #134f5c;">marthastewartweddings.com</a>. I even started referring to her as my friend, Martha.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Although I didn't end up replicating any of those models exactly (Martha doesn't seem as concerned about budget as those of us in the <i>real</i> wedding-planning world), I did use some of my friend Martha's ideas.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">For example, from <a href="http://www.marthastewartweddings.com/photogallery/decoration-templates#slide_2" style="color: #bf9000;">this banner</a>, I'm creating these banners (they're a work in progress--see ribbon order details below!):</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFqMaxZhcZ5uk4bnQpGmL4M84hmLkUwYvSEGcjU3ls_zWDqFlEqlONCxoe2rSvwEcUN18k7M8kY-W6IpfIimzNrKx06iRhJiEdJqwsxdWpfDiosNHC_hRVeB4YdHIHwQtSv7KpPCeL8JF/s1600/DSC04062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFqMaxZhcZ5uk4bnQpGmL4M84hmLkUwYvSEGcjU3ls_zWDqFlEqlONCxoe2rSvwEcUN18k7M8kY-W6IpfIimzNrKx06iRhJiEdJqwsxdWpfDiosNHC_hRVeB4YdHIHwQtSv7KpPCeL8JF/s320/DSC04062.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSf8cJQDPuKRQx_R-UidLEUHaKvNv7YiAnCMN61JSTSz609FhoePOJDtjX5jW2YdyjiPJ24QQcXP1EfNsphVATU1sntNBYFuvKLs7UK7h2szirmxzyl4dySpCwNPbAxKi4REJMZ3eL-DEI/s1600/DSC04065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSf8cJQDPuKRQx_R-UidLEUHaKvNv7YiAnCMN61JSTSz609FhoePOJDtjX5jW2YdyjiPJ24QQcXP1EfNsphVATU1sntNBYFuvKLs7UK7h2szirmxzyl4dySpCwNPbAxKi4REJMZ3eL-DEI/s320/DSC04065.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMNF-LhUZDcqJY6dh_dIwCNlUoyIYBol00lIBBBTylWSgW0q6qIn7Ro9rip1wP0RNqznHnPejT3bs0-PvqnvnxerDD0xRCTt6J_lPLNjC63N7sSXcJP41346MIE2oyb60EdcxKU8j2Lv-9/s1600/DSC04066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMNF-LhUZDcqJY6dh_dIwCNlUoyIYBol00lIBBBTylWSgW0q6qIn7Ro9rip1wP0RNqznHnPejT3bs0-PvqnvnxerDD0xRCTt6J_lPLNjC63N7sSXcJP41346MIE2oyb60EdcxKU8j2Lv-9/s320/DSC04066.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I have yet to add the ribbon, but it's coming--actually, more than 175 yds. of ribbon are currently in transit to our doorstep. Mom found some awesome bulk-ordering websites this week, and for less than $40 we scored <i>all</i> the ribbon we need for the entire wedding.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Instead of cutting or punching out each of the circles individually (like Martha suggests), I paid a visit to our neighborhood <a href="http://www.paper-source.com/" style="color: #8e7cc3;">Paper Source</a> (my latest obsession!) where they sell pre-cut circles and circular labels in coordinating colors. I was able to download a template from their website, then easily print the labels right on my home printer. Honestly, I usually avoid anything printed at home with a template--but these were <i>so easy</i>! I just wish I had found Paper Source earlier in the wedding planning stages...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And, from this <a href="http://www.marthastewartweddings.com/photogallery/non-floral-centerpieces#slide_10" style="color: #a64d79;">centerpiece</a> and <a href="http://www.projectwedding.com/wedding-ideas/diy-wedding-challenge-lime-faux-flower-centerpiece" style="color: #6aa84f;">this one</a>, we created our reception centerpieces, replacing the lemons/limes with oranges:</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgn0qLX-sklTp5TI1aHIrYwnoBhNRV2qwUkx-NWY1hkoTg-FHxJCOnVEa23yyRcO2xVIdUr09BOz6w68bqMKMAPLKapq29GSs6c9CMsWFiTNJKoSp3stY3EqDXgxy1_exoR95NY0jWY8A/s1600/Wedding+Centerpiece+Trial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgn0qLX-sklTp5TI1aHIrYwnoBhNRV2qwUkx-NWY1hkoTg-FHxJCOnVEa23yyRcO2xVIdUr09BOz6w68bqMKMAPLKapq29GSs6c9CMsWFiTNJKoSp3stY3EqDXgxy1_exoR95NY0jWY8A/s320/Wedding+Centerpiece+Trial.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The actual ribbon for these pieces are expected in the tremendous ribbon shipment later this week. Also, the drooping flowers are <i>not</i> in the plan--we were playing with these arrangements so much that these daisies were a few days old.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In order to cut costs, we've decided to order our own reception flowers from <a href="http://www.samsclub.com/sams/shop/product.jsp?productId=129225&iid=Category%7CTOPSELLER%7CBulk%20Floral%7CGerbera%20Daisy%20-%2080%20Stems%20-%20Color%20Options%20Available">Sam's</a>. Even though our florist is incredibly reasonably-priced and easy-to-work-with, flower arrangements just plain add up. So, we're going the DIY route on this one. Hopefully we won't regret it the day before the wedding when we're slicing bushels of oranges and defrosting packaged Gerbera daisies.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We had planned to go DIY in one other area of the big day--our favors. We decided awhile ago to give decorated sugar cookies to our guests at the reception. And, at the time, my mom, future-MIL and I had fond images of time spent happily baking the afternoon away. But now, with a <a href="http://sharingclosetspace.blogspot.com/p/to-do-list.html" style="color: #674ea7;">to-do list</a> a mile long, we're all about delegating. After some price shopping and time-managing, we decided to send this project out to the pros. We were referred to Shari at <a href="http://www.smartcookiesbakery.com/" style="color: #f1c232;">Smart Cookies Bakery</a>, who was able to offer us a fantastic price for 260 heart-shaped, pink-glazed sugar cookies. <i>And</i>, the icing on the <strike>cake</strike> cookie was that she individually wraps each cookie, complete with ribbon in our colors. (This ribbon is <i>separate</i> from the 175 yd. shipment.)</span></span></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2313504843665895822.post-77840212798617906602011-03-15T17:01:00.000-05:002011-03-15T17:01:56.491-05:00Our Big Night Out<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="body">"I think we are a product of all our experiences."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="body"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">~ Sanford I. Weill</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="body"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="body"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(And I think relationships are a product of all our shared experiences.)</span> </span></span> </span></div><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">One thing B and I have always been really good about is treating ourselves to a night out. (Not that it's really that big of a sacrifice!) Our most recent Big Night Out was to see Rascal Flatts this past Sunday night at the Sprint Center in KC (where ungodly ticket prices prevail). B gifted me the tickets for graduation back in December. We'd been to see the Flatts once before, and even though country music is definitely more my thing than B's, we both had really enjoyed the show.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, we donned our concert apparel, and headed downtown.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpw6354BLzpMc6uJgQZLolkSqwASxBB5sdyPNb8KpntLVhF9Sd62NMXfAEKbn8kp9TOmr42EWTv0hcZ5iu2ynKl_kBoD-ezBCOaWocVT_9le1Bn7_iiOzNktCfTEYbhjJETKHBPLiPy74b/s1600/IMG_0710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpw6354BLzpMc6uJgQZLolkSqwASxBB5sdyPNb8KpntLVhF9Sd62NMXfAEKbn8kp9TOmr42EWTv0hcZ5iu2ynKl_kBoD-ezBCOaWocVT_9le1Bn7_iiOzNktCfTEYbhjJETKHBPLiPy74b/s320/IMG_0710.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">B sporting his new blazer and me in my ever-so-fashionable tuxedo vest</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We had planned on eating at McFadden's (their club sandwich on wheatberry bread is one of my <i>faves</i>), but it turned out to be crazy-busy for a Sunday night. Plus, they don't have a waiting list; you're just expected to hover around people eating their food, ready to pounce on whatever seat becomes available. Not really our style on a Big Night Out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, we headed off to Gordon Biersch instead, where we shared a scrumptious Hawaiian pizza.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When we made our way over to the Sprint Center, we stopped to pose with the lighted Flatts displays before venturing inside.</span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Besides just wanting to share fun pictures of our Big Night Out, I'm writing this post because I think it's so important to take time as a couple and do something that feels like a real treat. There are so many things that I value about our relationship, and this is one of them. I love that B and I often spend money on "experiential" gifts. (No, not <i>experimental </i>gifts.) A gift of an evening spent dressed up and out on the town creates a shared experience--a memory that we can look back to in the future.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</span></div></div>Katie J.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16592045241225455485noreply@blogger.com0