tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62782983237944141562024-03-05T02:36:15.140-08:00JacqalopeJacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-19568169112872130002013-08-17T22:13:00.001-07:002013-08-17T22:13:43.245-07:00The 50-50 ClosetCouple things to catch you up. Last post was September 2011. Since then, I moved twice, we got our pup back (stupid no pet rentals), graduated with my Master's, started working fulltime (and overtime), and bought a house. The house needs some work and it's entertaining to say the least. And my dog is entertaining. He's a basset hound and his name is Shmue. Which rhymes with "blue." It's a silly way to spell the name Shmoo. Justin says he spelled his name "the French way." I told him the French way would be Shmoux.<br />
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I'm debating starting this blog again so that I don't forget how to write. I drown in data and figures everyday, I forget the power of words. I feel more disconnected from them now that my thesis is done. So I may do this casually but not tell anyone and see what happens.<br />
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Story time. We have an awkward closet in the hallway that is small and has a weird large concrete step in the middle of it. Why the step? What's it hiding? Is it the foundation? Is is to make the closet shorter? If I busted it open would I find a pair of feet in there? A beloved pet? What does it want from us!?<br />
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Anyway. We call it Shmue's 50-50 closet. Because the only things in the closet are the vacuum and his leash. What's gonna happen when we open the door, Shmue? Happy tail-wag ermahgerd smells and walk time? Or death machine of noisy horrible rolly-ness?!<br />
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Roll of the dice, Pups. Roll of the dice...Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-3445332954962558552011-09-25T21:33:00.000-07:002011-09-25T21:33:32.456-07:00I can say with confidence that this will be one of the hardest times of my life.<br />
I should relish it and remember that I will look back on it fondly.<br />
Sleep.<br />
Drive.<br />
Work.<br />
Drive.<br />
School.<br />
Drive.<br />
Cook.<br />
Homework.<br />
Sleep...<br />
I will remember this when I am working overtime and missing my husband.<br />
I will remember this when I am rocking a baby in the middle of the night,<br />
tears rolling down my face from exhaustion.<br />
I will remember this when I am driving to baseball, rehearsal, track meets,<br />
sipping on my 3rd coffee of the day.<br />
That if I can survive this newlywed/new job/grad school/living off of financial aid and unemployment thing,<br />
I can survive anything.Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-50986936578456327222011-09-04T19:36:00.001-07:002011-09-04T19:36:11.990-07:00Him: These people on tv are going on a trip to get over the loss of their dog!?<br />Me: Are you telling me you aren't going to be traumatized when Shmue dies?<br />Him: Don't even say that! Shmue's not a dog he's a person and he's my basset hound buddy. <br />Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-78184829199678065292011-08-11T16:30:00.000-07:002011-08-11T16:30:15.275-07:00Working on Justin's Resume<b>Me</b>: "... from August 2005 to July 2006. Wow. That seems like so long ago. In August 2005, I was getting ready to move out into the dorms and I had just done my NASA seminar."<br />
<b>Him</b>: "I was working at a sports card store getting fat off mall churros."Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-57054922936597807952011-05-19T20:43:00.001-07:002011-05-19T20:43:52.789-07:00A cellular conversationTalking to Justin on the phone...<br /><br />Me: So what are you doing?<br />Him: Playing video games in my comfy chair. <br />Me: Ok well would you mind emptying the recycling upstairs- it's just about overflowing.<br />Him: What- you're breaking up?<br />Me: I am not! I'm in the middle of a parking lot!<br />Him: Babe...! I can't hear you...! I'm going through a tunnel..!<br />Me: *sigh*<br />Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-31194098020711956172011-04-16T11:17:00.000-07:002011-04-16T11:17:12.404-07:00Where my heart goes to find calm...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1tFY5Xm3Y4tKZ2ftBY8Tlj36M5BAC8A0K9oDRMpIUM0383vi27RkzEcDowdrAiaSmkEzP7OCduX-ApcagsiJekUDVda39_-EF3dtQAEHa99gT-WlbShiKykrM-Iqytty7Ehib7qQbbWI/s1600/wallpaper-412335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1tFY5Xm3Y4tKZ2ftBY8Tlj36M5BAC8A0K9oDRMpIUM0383vi27RkzEcDowdrAiaSmkEzP7OCduX-ApcagsiJekUDVda39_-EF3dtQAEHa99gT-WlbShiKykrM-Iqytty7Ehib7qQbbWI/s400/wallpaper-412335.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;">Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.</span></div>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-18008934095312311462011-04-14T18:07:00.000-07:002011-04-14T18:07:29.888-07:00In the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">You may have noticed a new theme. Optimism. Joy juice. Love. Hope. Calm. Call it what you will, I have it. I have started taking steps back and taken a critical look at who I am now and who I was then. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Then, when I was alone. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Then, when I was me but darker.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Or tougher.<br />
Or something.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I saw it first looking through my old chemistry notes, of all places. I saw my hand writing, how it looked like my dads. How it sprawled in a focused, angular way.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Now it is softer.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And loopier.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Like me!</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I have learned many things this quarter so far. And not just how to project an aerial image into WGS 1984 projection. Or how to calculate the ionic strength and activity of magnesium (I still don't really know how to do that- but don't tell the guy in the white lab coat).</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I have learned that when</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">you approach the day with a positive attitude..</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">it goes by faster.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">you get more done.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">you make people laugh, and they make you and there is generally more smiles in your life.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">When your kitchen is clean and your house is vacuumed...</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">your home is homier.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">your husband is happier.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">you don't have a "I should get this done" black, heavy cloud hanging over your couch-sitting time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">When you don't worry about what will happen..</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">you are pleasantly surprised when something works out exactly like you wanted,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and have faith that something else will happen to help you decide what to do.</span></div>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-88811322936186298762011-04-13T22:06:00.000-07:002011-04-13T22:07:29.209-07:00Yummies.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5186/5616597856_45738ff18e_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5186/5616597856_45738ff18e_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Drench my world with joy.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5104/5617342369_791a98ea76_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5104/5617342369_791a98ea76_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Without you, today's frittata would be the scurf of last week's.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5147/5617512661_c60185dfe3_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5147/5617512661_c60185dfe3_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I-hate-lettuce-salad.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5109/5587067166_8243aefd1d_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5109/5587067166_8243aefd1d_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">He looks good in green.<br />
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</div>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-49367413723858867742011-04-13T11:48:00.001-07:002011-04-13T11:48:17.553-07:00A Critical Look at FidelityHim: I never worry about you being unfaithful. <br /><br />Me: Well you should! I have a line of guys waiting for me to become available! Well, a line of at least two guys. <br /><br />Him: The old married guy and the fat guy with a green mohawk?<br /><br />Me: I didn't say they were top-shelf guys...<br />Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-91862300699831504332011-03-31T20:51:00.000-07:002011-03-31T20:53:20.276-07:00Early Morning RainI couldn't tell you if you asked me how this song got to be my "I want to go home" song. I have a vague memory of my mom playing it throughout my life when it was cold and dreary outside, with dewy drops clinging to the oak leaves. And I was perched on the couch doing homework near the fireplace. A calm and lazy Sunday with my mom in the kitchen, doing her thing. And this song playing in the background. Now, when I crave my happy place, Gordon Lightfoot takes me back to the cabin by the creek.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://1.gvt0.com/vi/KP_MDIYhPH0/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KP_MDIYhPH0&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KP_MDIYhPH0&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-33791346591523337072011-03-08T09:39:00.000-08:002011-03-08T09:39:34.973-08:00You can't take us seriously.<b>Him</b>: *while tripping over our dirty laundry pile that has taken over our room* So I put an ad on craigslist.<br />
<b>Me</b>: For what?<br />
<b>Him</b>: It said something like, "I want a wife exactly like mine except less busy so she can do my laundry."<br />
<b>Me</b>: Good. Let me know if anyone calls. I want a wife like that too.Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-75930354917987237012011-03-06T17:48:00.000-08:002011-03-06T18:10:55.418-08:00If my heart were a house, you'd be home.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5133/5504752334_ab13394507_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5133/5504752334_ab13394507_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Right now reminds me of home. My husband is in the garage using power tools and tracking sawdust into the house. I can hear him faintly in the background hammering and sawing away. I have some Dean Martin playing softly and chicken noodle soup wafting through the air. It's actually chicken <i>dumpling </i>soup but whatever (recipe post maybe?). And here I sit preoccupied by my homework- editing a Word file. Punching numbers absent-mindedly into a calculator. It's almost like I was back in high school and the man in the garage is my dad and my mom is the one making the soup. Funny how things come full circle.Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-2647249421290357842011-03-05T19:41:00.000-08:002011-03-05T19:41:48.577-08:00Awake My Soul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5011/5501204870_515f088b35_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5011/5501204870_515f088b35_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">I struggle to find any truth in your lies</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">This weakness I feel I must finally show</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">But lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Lend me your eyes I can change what you see</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">But your soul you must keep, totally free</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">-Mumford and Sons</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">My honey took me whale watching today because my "bucket list takes priority over everything."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">We didn't see any whales but I don't mind. That just means I get to spend at least one more day staring into the cold water cuddling up to a bearded man.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span></span>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-47274298097826806612011-03-03T06:40:00.000-08:002011-03-03T06:41:43.794-08:00Stress ReliefRecently I've been looking for a way to relieve some stress. I wanted something that I would look forward to do but also would refocus my energy. I believe I have found it. Just Dance 2 for the wii. And let me say, it is FUN. It's also a stress reliever because it is HILARIOUS to watch my husband do dances such as this one:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/lGZ3uxH0OcM?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-47619207504894165212011-02-28T20:30:00.001-08:002011-02-28T20:30:46.208-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5299/5487452925_984f4b4fcb_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5299/5487452925_984f4b4fcb_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-14990304893830786572011-02-22T11:49:00.000-08:002011-02-22T11:52:43.303-08:00Hobby, shmobby.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1157246469" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHRnwZUud8NtQkMpQgm-RXHNuYQlepfPXxHhiqs1gNbFQpUQJ_DnPZqiqfQIQU2BAAxxKn8v4ReszGRKR2V2ma0qslHUNzBIZ8gJqIPnmbeu-fsiQcJ6WE7QAbcxYdGCncahHueb1MGhs/s1600/70146671.jpg" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">That's the culprit. RIGHT THERE. That movie is the reason for my husband's new hobby/obsession/life goal. But let me back up. It all started on a lazy Sunday of cooking and dogsitting and watching marathons of nature documentaries. What? You don't do that? Oh. Well we do. Thank you Netflix Instant Queue! Anyways, this movie was my pick. I think the Appalachians are fascinating because they're so gosh darn old. Not like the Sierras or the Rockies or anything- I mean they're REALLY old. So we learned about the wildlife and the formation and the trail that goes from Georgia to Maine. That's when my husband got the itch.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1157246469"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Him. "I'm gonna do that when I win the lottery. Just go hike for a year."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Me. "Ok that sounds cool. I'd go with you but we'd have to carry a swimming pool of water for me to drink along the way."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Him. "We'll helicopter you in at checkpoints so we can visit."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Me. "That works too."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Him. "I'm totally gonna do that. Actually, I'm gonna do that this weekend."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Me. "What?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Him. "I'm gonna go on a backpacking trip through the mountains this weekend."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Me. "But you've never done that before."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Him. "No but I can rent equipment from the base, hike like ten miles a day. Just one day overnight. I'm gonna have to pack food and read my survival guide from front to back and...."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1157246469"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And so that's what's happening this weekend. He's going to do the Skyline to Big Basin trail route with two friends while I go to a bridal shower. This is the third major hobby he's had in the last year and a half. It started with shore fishing. We came out of that with 4 fishing poles, a homemade binder of local fish identification, and lots of fish tacos and cioppino. Then we went to beer brewing. We're on our 3rd or 4th keg of homemade beer. And now it's backpacking. And if you don't understand the consequentialness of these hobbies- let me explain something to you. When my husband does something, he does it to perfection. I love that about him. He doesn't half-ass anything he cares about.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1157246469"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was supposed to do homework this weekend since I won't get a chance to do any next weekend. I didn't do as much as I should have but instead I...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-- went grocery shopping for two weeks (that was completely unintentional- it was supposed to be only for one week but I ripped my budget a new one) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-- cooked dinners and lunches from scratch </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-- baked lemon cupcakes</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-- took a trip to Border's 40 miles away to find the one perfect Backpacking in California book (I'll say it again... obsession)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-- deep cleaned my kitchen</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-- watched a documentary on Yosemite, Appalachian Trial, American Serengheti, Denali, redwoods, and last but not least....beavers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-- I also got to witness the birth of a new hobby. And that, my friends, is priceless.</div>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-38284231254711202372011-02-20T16:31:00.000-08:002011-02-20T16:31:36.143-08:00Taste is all relative.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">This weekend I have been at the mercy of my husband's cravings. He is, what I call, an impulsive eater. During the week, I do not have the time (nor the budget) to cook whatever he wants so I just cook what we have. But on some lazy days I'll ask him what he wants me to cook and he always has something in mind.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">I was reading a magazine this morning and found a page dedicated to unique egg rolls.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Me. "Hey hun, how's a hamburger egg roll sound?"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Him. "Blech. Why do they make hamburger flavored everything?"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Me. "Well they have a pizza here one too."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Him. "That's what I want for lunch."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Me. "What?"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Him. "Can you please make me pizza egg rolls for lunch?"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Me. "Um okay. You know most people would say, 'hmm that sounds good, I'd like to try that one day.' But not you."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Him. "No, I'd like that for lunch please."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">So that's what I made for lunch.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJPBDqentbWCPLCLx_AM58pG42TLetPb_WQsDGByA0MaMB6f_kam0FWpUErkq521L4IkVuzmAf_332WIMmwXowjcRc_eKvlhegEVFXjbsgeRtSnJEgyQN8oFaJO2UsPdyb4k6MJDY5Gk/s1600/photo+1+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJPBDqentbWCPLCLx_AM58pG42TLetPb_WQsDGByA0MaMB6f_kam0FWpUErkq521L4IkVuzmAf_332WIMmwXowjcRc_eKvlhegEVFXjbsgeRtSnJEgyQN8oFaJO2UsPdyb4k6MJDY5Gk/s320/photo+1+%25281%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6YAI3RVc0-nu8wlZtc8DYt7bk99UbGTEP2vEcia-GC3ZRcpFnGHGFG6xavDapKWMIgHdSyg9zQP9nJ0Kj3jwZxPsjGTkcSshMo9eLyiTZZVPtmZNb5iG54zwTgLV0HOUNT9K5wn9SVIQ/s1600/photo+2+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6YAI3RVc0-nu8wlZtc8DYt7bk99UbGTEP2vEcia-GC3ZRcpFnGHGFG6xavDapKWMIgHdSyg9zQP9nJ0Kj3jwZxPsjGTkcSshMo9eLyiTZZVPtmZNb5iG54zwTgLV0HOUNT9K5wn9SVIQ/s320/photo+2+%25281%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
They don't look too bad, huh?<br />
<br />
Last night's craving on the other hand, WAS pretty bad. Lemon and banana cupcakes? Can you imagine it? It tastes like sour bananas. My husband loved it. Sometimes I think he mixed his taste buds up with a pregnant woman somewhere.Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-79963260054748440432011-02-09T19:52:00.000-08:002011-02-09T19:52:19.839-08:00*Enter Husband*<br />
<br />
<b>Him</b>: Hello, love of my life.<br />
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<b>Me</b>: Well hello! That was a nice greeting.<br />
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<b>Him</b>. Yes. You are the sun to my moon.<br />
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<b>Me</b>: Ok, what do you want?<br />
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<b>Him</b>: I need you to do laundry.Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-45998601049892338202011-02-09T19:42:00.000-08:002011-02-09T21:56:18.253-08:00Week in Pictures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5253/5432174465_48027efd0f_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5253/5432174465_48027efd0f_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our sushi chef got a little carried away.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5016/5432780022_8dfed93c60_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5016/5432780022_8dfed93c60_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Went to see a shell midden- a Native American dump site.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Me:</b> My field trip today was to a midden. A midden is-</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Him:</b> I know what a midden is. It's like a hat for your hand.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Me:</b> Not a mitten- a midden!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5214/5432165775_16424a3784.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5214/5432165775_16424a3784.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My bangs got pretty shaggy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5259/5432790142_bc3b6b4269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5259/5432790142_bc3b6b4269.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My cheesehead had a good day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5051/5432162993_da77a32f01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5051/5432162993_da77a32f01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I did a lot of homework wearing my favorite socks.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-26000976758535507572011-02-02T13:47:00.000-08:002011-02-02T13:47:56.995-08:00The secret life of a grad student<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5259/5410194345_a3cc7423d2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5259/5410194345_a3cc7423d2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Does everyone know what yesterday was? Yesterday was Meltdown Day. Yay Meltdown Day! Oh you don't know what Meltdown Day is? Well let me educate you. It comes to visit me once a week. It involves a lot of tears and tissues. Best part about Meltdown Day? When it comes, it doesn't come again for six days. Usually. Yesterday Meltdown Day consisted of my honey making a funny face. Me laughing. Him making a funny face again. Me laughing. Him making a funny face again. I crack up for a minute and then my laughter turns into sobs. Ya. I was that tired. And when he finally stopped looking at me like I was insane and asked me what was wrong, this is what I did... no joke. I flopped myself onto the bed face down and yelled "I'm so unhappy!!!"<br />
<br />
Wow. Just so you all know- I'm not a dramatic person. But that's how my life is going this quarter. Completely sleep deprived and frustrating. Basically right now I have a serious case of senioritis because this is the quarter from hell and I'd rather be at the next chapter in my life (read: work, home, honey, movies, babies). But no. Instead I am writing 30 page papers every week, filling out lab books, learning how to write a research paper, and studying for midterms. But I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's a means to an end.<br />
<br />
Things I've learned on Meltdown Days:<br />
<br />
1. My husband is very good at making me laugh through tears.<br />
<br />
2. Afterwards, I feel much better and my prespective is clear again.<br />
<br />
3. Sometimes you just have to get the assignment done. You can't always do A work.<br />
<br />
4. You are nothing without your mental health.<br />
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5. Big men have big shoulders.Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-67303302138854415602011-01-28T13:47:00.001-08:002011-01-28T13:47:32.916-08:00Am I lucky or what?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/S4swoERUXpU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><3</div>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-46770256249216611852011-01-28T13:19:00.000-08:002011-01-28T13:25:53.698-08:00I still got sand in my shoes...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4082/5396493688_11d6c98293_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4082/5396493688_11d6c98293_z.jpg" width="320" /></a>Hello. Despite some <a href="http://www.abc15.com/dpp/news/region_southeast_valley/tempe/pd:-body-recovered-at-tempe-town-lake">sad news</a> about an old schoolmate, I am in an.... embracing mood today. I suppose tragedies help us realize that what we've been bitching about is better than not being able to bitch at all. If that makes any sense. I normally try to live my life in an "it's all good" manner like my daddy taught me but sometimes I get caught up in a pity party. We're all guilty of it. My whole philosophy has always been, "if you don't want to do something and it makes you unhappy, either don't do it or find a way to improve it." I've recently discovered (I know, a little late in the game) that sometimes you have to do things that make you miserable so that you will not be more miserable a couple years down the road. It'll all be worth it in the end, I just have to remember that.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
<br />
So here's a couple things that happened recently that I feel good about.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1. It took me 3 months to gain my holiday weight (yes, the holidays start in October- I love candy!) and as of this morning, I have officially lost everything I gained! I'm back on track for summertime!<br />
<br />
2. On that note, I found a pair of pants that I got last summer and I was going to wear them today. I pulled them on, stopped, and checked the tag. I would've sworn they were my husbands- I was swimming in them!</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3. Every assignment that I have sacrificed sleep for this quarter I got an A on. Worth it? Maybe...</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">4. I get to go on field trips on Thursdays and yesterday we went to the beach. What for? That's a good question- I was hanging out with the sea anemones so I wasn't really paying attention. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4110/5395916421_acc9848fec.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4110/5395916421_acc9848fec.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">5. To celebrate getting back on track with my weight loss- I bought myself some new makeup. It was just a crazy coincidence that I ran out this morning and would've needed to buy some anyway. Or maybe I'm just over-justifying. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">6. While at Sephora (<3) I went up to almost every saleswoman there and asked for a free sample of a product of my choice. Hey- I'm a poor grad student, don't judge me!</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">7. I got 8.5 hours of sleep last night. It was amazing.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">8. And finally, and most importantly, it's the weekend!! That means I get to hang out with my husband, cook more, and wake up slow.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-81852382378559136202011-01-24T21:28:00.001-08:002011-01-24T21:28:48.942-08:00No sleep.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5213/5386114333_9e0245135d_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5213/5386114333_9e0245135d_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-30248880295156596922011-01-23T09:55:00.000-08:002011-01-23T09:55:42.526-08:00The bobble.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5045/5381659586_7f00946271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5045/5381659586_7f00946271.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<b>Me</b>. "I bought you a water bottle with the filter already built in so you can filter water on the go."<br />
<b>Him</b>. "Ok what's it called."<br />
<b>Me</b>. "A bobble. I got you the green one."<br />
<b>Him</b>. "Did you do the research first to see if it was the best one?"<br />
<b>Me</b>. "Noooo.... it was ten bucks. That was the extent of my 'research.' "<br />
<b>Him</b>. "Ok well don't worry. I'll do the research for you."<br />
<b>Me</b>. "Why? I already bought it."<br />
<b>Him</b>. "Don't worry. I got this."<br />
<i>....10 minutes pass....</i><br />
<b>Him</b>. "Ok I've narrowed it down to two."<br />
<b>Me</b>. "Hopefully one is the bobble cause that's the one I bought for you."<br />
<b>Him</b>. "One cost a little more but it's stainless steel so it looks badass and it'll last me a long time."<br />
<b>Me</b>. "I already bought you the bobble."<br />
<b>Him</b>. "The other one is just awesome! It can filter out any bacteria. You can drink pond water!"<br />
<b>Me</b>. "Why would you need that?"<br />
<b>Him</b>. "You know, when I'm cleaning drains at work."<br />
<b>Me</b>. "Oh please no."<br />
<b>Him</b>. "Or when I'm being all badass on a hike. They'll pretty much make a reality show about me."<br />
<b>Me</b>. "No they won't cause I already bought you the bobble. I'm sorry I ruined your television career by not doing my research."<br />
<b>Him</b>. "You should be."Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6278298323794414156.post-1021715057228261772011-01-22T21:00:00.000-08:002011-01-22T21:00:58.501-08:00The big two four.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7MJ2k4Zjx2o009RphETVoppM71CgOSu0LQBEuc254oefwbSzfqWK6gTit5KOuyD5eKzwm8bVF8xvFlpGgpYjT3Ot4cEmqVyRPnNIqdJbhfg6FVCjbH_9amTyYQmoO1Xs5F3vck6bUVI/s1600/justin24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7MJ2k4Zjx2o009RphETVoppM71CgOSu0LQBEuc254oefwbSzfqWK6gTit5KOuyD5eKzwm8bVF8xvFlpGgpYjT3Ot4cEmqVyRPnNIqdJbhfg6FVCjbH_9amTyYQmoO1Xs5F3vck6bUVI/s320/justin24.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's my honey's birthday today! We went for steak and I bought him a stein. This birthday was a little more emotional than usual because my husband is going into the Air Force sometime in the next year or so. He means the world to me and when he's gone it's like half my heart/soul/sanity is missing. It'll be a very hard transition for me and I am preparing myself already but trying to enjoy every moment we have together. Unfortunately I have been doing school work non stop ever since the quarter started and haven't had any extra time to even have a conversation with him. You know it's bad when I sat down to watch a TV show with him and he said "This is so cool, I get to spend time with you!" *sigh* only 7 more weeks to go.</div>Jacquelinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08888393709526703946noreply@blogger.com0