tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-133243942024-03-07T01:19:32.743-08:00twelvedaysoldtwelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-84269572118873869252011-12-30T12:03:00.000-08:002011-12-30T16:16:36.079-08:002011.We've come to another year's end here at twelvedaysold, which was more sparse than last year. My life in general was more sparse, but sometimes I need those quiet years.<br />
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Those of you who have been around for a while or have been reading through my archives (I love you), last year ended kind of sucky, with 2010 becoming kind of a douche. I was a wee bit sad and stressed out.<br />
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After we found out about Jesse's diabetes last November, he immediately lost something like 40 pounds and now weighs less than me. On the plus side (bah!), all the happy pounds I've gained since we got married have rounded out my butt quite nicely. Whenever I'm around my mom for an extended (like my waistline) period of time she starts making everyone look at my butt and says, "Where did that come from? Why don't I have a butt?" Which always ends with my dad asking if we could please stop talking about my behind.<br />
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I went to jury duty, bought a bike, went on vacation, and purchased a video which became the <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2011/07/present-1-happy-birthday-jesse-bear.html">best present ever for Jesse's birthday</a> of a man dancing topless with "Happy b-day Jesse Bear" written on his stomach.<br />
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I told a lot of childhood stories, since I was a wee bit of a peculiar child, and I do a lot of embarrassing things. I was watching an episode of Hoarding: Buried Alive and one woman, after cleaning up almost her whole house, said something along the lines of, "This is how I get to help people, by sharing my story. I don't know why it had to be hoarding, but by doing this I'm helping other people." I'm kind of like that, with making a fool of myself. It's okay if you do stupid things. There's humor in there somewhere.<br />
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I talked about <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2011/02/broshay.html">the broshay</a>, and the time I thought we were "that family" when my dad told me <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2011/06/p-sherman-42-wallaby-way-sydney.html">he drowned a racoon in our backyard</a>. I admitted to thinking <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2011/07/faster-than-speeding-dog-more-powerful.html">my overweight cocker spaniel was as fast as Superman</a>, gagged while remembering the <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2011/08/why-is-there-yogurt-in-this-hat_10.html">long-forgotten chocolate milk that exploded in my car</a>, blushed while writing that <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2011/09/im-blue-if-i-were-green-i-would-die-if.html">I cut my eyebrows to look like Vanilla Ice's</a>, and most recently I told you about when I was a kid and dropped trou in my bedroom and <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2011/09/im-blue-if-i-were-green-i-would-die-if.html">peed in a heater vent</a>.<br />
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Cinnamon is doing well at the ripe age of 16 1/2 and doing well apparently requires sleeping a lot. <br />
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I did a good amount of knitting/crafting this year, including a lot of presents I never took photos of. I also got VERY MAD at knitting. Sometimes it's a love/hate thing.<br />
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I'm not a book worm, but I almost always have a book going. I kept a list this year, and 18 books in 12 months sounds pretty good to me, even though I was a lazy bugger all of November and didn't read once (I mean, I read labels and signs and stuff. I didn't avoid all printed words).<br />
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I got a little disappointed earlier this year as well, when I told my mom I was excited about turning 25 because I could be sold on Etsy as an antique. Then she told me an antique on Etsy only needs to be 20. There goes that joke, lame 25. What am I going to do with you now. <br />
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So, good friends, family, active readers and lurkers, I hope 2011 wasn't too hard on you, and here's to a totally awesome 2012.<br />
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Also, I don't like when soap looks like real food.<br />
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Signing off from 2011,<br />
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K-dawg<br />
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<br />twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-44591521886258761782011-12-06T16:44:00.001-08:002011-12-08T16:20:33.172-08:00It's Christmastime! Everybody start crying.Some of you may know that Jesse and I get <i>really</i> into our Christmas cards. I'm usually the one to spark the fire, coming up with an idea mid-February, but Jesse is the one that really gets it going. I've only been blogging for a couple years, and I figured it might be a nice walk down memory lane to visit our old photographs. All four of them. Woah, I know, we don't have all day for four whole pictures, Katie.<br />
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The first year, we didn't have our photo taken. I wrote once on how Jesse didn't like the holidays until I forced them down his throat and he was filled with Christmas cheer, and you can read about that <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-tree-of-sorrow-and-despair.html#theend">right here</a>.<br />
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The next year, I decided I wanted a dorky picture of us wearing Santa hats in ugly sweaters (with Jesse wearing a mullet wig) taken at Sears, because I had a coupon. I made an appointment for the weekend. We sat there with about 1 million screaming children and parents waiting for their picture to be taken, and they were over 2 hours behind schedule. We decided to go home, me sweating with my jacket over my ugly sweater. We asked the same friend who took pictures during our wedding to snap a couple for us and gave him the cash instead.<br />
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I'm sure my fancy pants graphic design student husband is now cringing that he let me do that writing in MS Paint, but oddly, that was the effect I was going for. Also, Cinnamon sees into the future. And nice bookcase. Decorating is my something or other.<br />
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The other two I've posted before, but who doesn't like a little bit of redundancy of redundancy?<br />
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I know, CUT TO THE CHASE.<br />
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When Jesse was finished with the card, he emailed it to me, and I said, "Don't I look, you know, huge compared to you?" "No. It's perfect."<br />
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Hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and winter holidays in general. Oh! If you want a copy of our picture sent to you, say ROCKET SHIP in your comment and I'll choose an extremely lucky winner. I'll count if even if it's not in caps, because I'm cool like that.twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-87542130278082616682011-11-22T12:56:00.001-08:002011-11-29T11:29:18.533-08:00Peeter vent.I figure it's time to talk about me peeing in a heater vent. I've mentioned it a few times, but haven't told the story because I don't think it's that interesting anymore. But I have been telling it for a long time.<br />
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From what I remember, this particular not-so-shining-moment in my life came about around the age of 8. Something happened, however (namely extreme embarrassment and shame), and I didn't think about it again until I was 18. Enter: Ms. Larsen's English class.<br />
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Sometimes in Ms. Larsen's class we had to sit in the front and give a speech, and by speech I mean talk about whatever we wanted to for 5 minutes. During what I am sure was one of my many riveting speeches, I remembered this story out of the blue.<br />
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When I was 8, I got to move into my brother's old bedroom after he moved out. My mother may tell me that this is wrong and correct me, because I don't remember this very well. I actually don't remember much, if we're going to nitpick. The timeline adds up though.<br />
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Since you may be wondering this later, the bedroom was literally right next to the bathroom. There was a heater vent in the floor, and occasionally I would remove the vent and pull out the crap that had fallen in there. Hair clips, army men, those type of things. <br />
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One day I decided to pee in it.<br />
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I can't say for sure, but I do remember peeing in it a couple of times, perhaps multiple times that same day or over a couple of days. I suppose the number of offenses doesn't matter after the first one. An unknown amount of time later, my mother turned on the heater.<br />
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The house, of course, reeked of urine. Apparently after doing some investigating my dad asked me, "Did you pee in the heater vent?" and I said yes. He was so caught off guard that I did that, it being so bizarre and me so readily owning up to it, that I don't think I got in trouble.<br />
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(My sad little mind had changed the story over the years, and I thought I had blamed it on my sister's cat Sarah and that she wasn't allowed inside anymore. I figured I should add that since this is what I actually told my English class before I was corrected by my sister later when this was the only thing I talked about for 6 months.)<br />
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During the uproarious laughter in the classroom (which I'm sure is what was happening), someone asked me how old I was when this happened because I hadn't said it yet. Jokingly, I said, "16." Laughter, laughter. "Just kidding, I was like 8."<br />
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Lucky for me, NOBODY HEARD THAT LAST PART. Class was dismissed and people started saying things like, "You peed in a heater vent like two years ago??" "Hey Katie, we closed off all the heaters in the hall so you could come to the dance on Friday."<br />
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Anyway, here's a picture of me and my neice on Thanksgiving. I told her to put her hands in her lap and look awkward.<br />
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I'm thankful for Jesse, my friends and family, my job, crafting, Christmas, Legally Blonde, and that I'm not in prison. Also that I kicked that habit of peeing in heater vents, and that you read my blog to hear such bizarre childhood stories.<br />
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xxooXOxOOo,<br />
Katietwelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-60733251228774200102011-11-09T09:37:00.000-08:002011-11-11T12:39:02.679-08:00I do not like the cone of shame.Cinnamon had a boo-boo.<br />
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I didn't mention the old man recently on the blog, because when it comes to summer time, Cinnamon only comes inside to eat. He is far too cool for his parents when it is sunny outside.<br />
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A couple Saturdays ago we came home and I saw something by his tail that I thought was a slug he had rolled on and squished. Does this happen to other people's pets? Perhaps it's an extra hairy cat/pacific northwest combination. We've had to grab two slugs off him before (though, not dead. Just caught in cat hair). (Then again I bet most people don't get slugs in their shower, either.) I tried to wipe it off so he could come inside and he FLIPPED OUT, making me think he was wounded, so I packed him up and took him to the vet.<br />
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Over the course of 45 minutes the wound became much, much worse as I watched in horror and I felt like the worst owner in the world. Cinnabutt had an abscess that had to be flushed out. (Insert collective "buhh.") Buhh.<br />
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Since I already felt like the worst pet owner in the world, it didn't help when later I had to buy him a cone and <i>everything he did with that cone on was hilarious</i>. He must have been doped up from his pain meds because he let me put that thing on without any hassle, purring the whole time with his big eyes on (his 'beetle eyes' as Susan calls them). Then he kept walking backwards and taking the most exaggerated steps while looking up at me, confused, adding a pathetic "meow."<br />
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Then he climbed on my chest and pushed the cone up against my cheek, purring. He seemed unsure as to why he couldn't reach my face so I put mine in front of his in the cone and he licked me, uncertain.<br />
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I took the cone off so he could eat (he tried to jump up, hit the side of his table, looked at me confused and meowed) and after that first night I was able to remove it and he hasn't been obsessively licking his freshly shaved butt, so everyone is happy. Including my credit card company.<br />
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In other news, I went to the <a href="http://www.yarnharlot.ca/blog/">Yarn Harlot</a>'s book signing:<br />
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"I write humor. I'm funny."<br />
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So what's new with you guys? Lots of stuff? Nothing? <a href="http://notanauthoryet.blogspot.com/2011/11/out-run-my-gun.html">Neighbors shooting guns in their apartment</a>? Go on.twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-14275529980619481212011-10-20T08:24:00.000-07:002011-10-20T08:24:27.801-07:00"There's no crying at Disneyland." -- Jesse BrayI'm going to talk about something that we seem to think is untalkaboutable. That subject is:<br />
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For our second anniversary, Jesse and I decided to go to Disneyland. We were flying down on a Tuesday, going to Disneyland on Wednesday, and flying back Thursday. I especially liked how people asked, "Oh, you're going to Disneyland? For how many days?" "Just one." "You can't just go for one day." No one seemed interested in dropping an additional $148 for us to visit Disneyland for an extra day and pay for another night at a hotel, so we kept our original plans of a one day visit to Disneyland. We weren't worried since we didn't have kiddos that couldn't go on rides or we would have to sit out with, etc. We definitely knocked that place out in one day.<br />
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Flare those nostrils, Jesse! Unfortunately, I wore a skirt that day. I'm not a big skirt wearer and did not think about my sweaty thighs rubbing together and causing UTTER AND COMPLETE MISERY, and there was a point in front of the haunted mansion where I had to sit down for a second and have myself a little cry. But if I hadn't had painful red disgusting thighs that day, we wouldn't have spent $40 on sweatpants that have Minnie Mouse on them for me. I love you, Minnie Mouse sweatpants! After we bought those and I changed in a disgusting restroom, we continued to have a very nice time and I no longer had to worry about sitting unladylike.<br />
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Next up we have Comic Con which I talked about in nauseating detail last year.<br />
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Ugh, looking at this picture disgusts me. Jesse has lost like 40 pounds since he found out about his diabetes. JESSE. And your manly METABOLISM.<br />
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At one point in vacation time Jesse was saving seats for us in Hall H and I realize this may mean nothing to you, but that place is huge and my phone died when I was supposed to call him and see where he was. I walked around aimlessly for probably about half an hour and there were NO PAYPHONES ANYWHERE. I have never needed a payphone before, and suddenly I sorely missed it. I finally realized I needed to ask someone to use their cellphone. I shamefully walked around sizing people up to see who I should ask. I decided on asking one of the Sailor Moons if I could use hers, and called my husband. He told me where he was and I found him in Hall H and by the time I got to him I was a bit WEEPY, gosh Katie is such a GIRL, and Jesse got me nachos to make me feel better and this is literally a shot of me at the end of crying.<br />
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Post-crying Katie! So refreshed and nachoed!<br />
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Which brings us to this year when we were in Phoenix last month. YES THERE WERE TEARS, calm down, I'm not crying anymore. I vaguely mentioned that I had us walk in the wrong direction for approximately a mile while trying to get to the car rental place. The sad thing was, we took a bus, got off at the stop, walked a while, Jesse realized I had us going the wrong way, we turned around, and slowly I began to see that the bus had stopped us <i>right in front</i> of where we needed to be to get the car. In 103 degree heat after walking for some time, Katie had a wittle bit of a meltdown, which was so super sexy, you should have seen it. I was embarrassed and had a tiny bit of the heatstroke malfunctioning my inhibition unit which usually makes me refrain from crying. I stopped by the time we were inside but by then the waterworks of my sweat glands on my FACE were going for a good 45 minutes trying to both cool me off and dehydrate me at the same time. I guess I don't have a picture for this instance.<br />
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So here is an obnoxious journey through our vacation with pictures and my blathering commentary. I'm knocking this out in one post, so I apologize for the overabundance of photos and words, unless you just come here for the pictures and only look at those without reading the words on the screen. Those of you are way ahead of me.</div>
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My wonderful parents drove us to the airport at 4 am on Saturday, and on second thought I'm going to show you the emails my parents sent me after I told them the time we had to get to the airport. My mom had alre<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">ady volunteered them to drive us out there, and I offered to buy them donuts in return for the ride.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Dad said: "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">Mom was obviously just joking about taking you to the airport at 4:00 in the morning. She is such a jokester, that mom of yours! And your crack about buying us a couple of crummy doughnuts was pretty hilarious too." He then included links for public transit and local taxis. My mom quickly replied, "IGNORE him."</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Also, I think my parents are a riot.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">After a layover in San Francisco (we got cheap tickets, hence the layover. Unfortunately we bought those cheap tickets 5 months ago so by the time the flight actually happened they had changed the layover from 40 minutes to three hours. True story) we arrived in sunny Phoenix and <a href="http://notanauthoryet.blogspot.com/">Amy</a> and Earl showed us around the town and stuffed our faces with delicious food. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sunday morning we went couponin</span>g with them (you can <a href="http://notanauthoryet.blogspot.com/2011/09/guess-who-didnt-get-around-to-this.html">see the haul here</a>, and by the way, we have gotten into couponing and Jesse and I actually enjoy grocery shopping together. Just fyi) and then we all went to the GRAND CANYON! (Enter fireworks and a YEEEAAAHHHH!)<br />
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Before seeing the Canyon we were met by a tarantula, like, in the wild. I didn't even throw up on it or anything! But I did say, "So are one of you going to squish it, or..." and then I had to remind everyone what a kidder I am and how I was <i>totally kidding</i>. ("But really, no one's going to take care of that?")</div>
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The Grand Canyon was pretty spectacular, and to be honest, seemed fake. It was very quiet out there and I'm pretty sure I could see a guy touching up the backdrop on some scaffolding.<br />
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Then they took us the long way back to Phoenix through Sedona which was absolutely gorgeous, but we didn't get many good pictures of.</div>
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Monday morning we decided to have an adventure with public transit to get our rental car which included me (that loser) making us walk for about a mile in 103 degree weather (but it's a dry heat!) and me being so embarrassingly sweaty that as I was standing at the counter and had my forearm resting on it, I left a pool of sweat that I tried to casually wipe away. Phoenix + Katie = Super Sexy.</div>
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After getting the car and hotel all checked into (and setting the temperature in the hotel room to a balmy 65 degrees for the duration of our stay) we went out to lunch with Jesse's cousin Daniel.</div>
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I have no pictures of this. But Daniel is very buff and manly looking, what with being an ex-marine, and I have pictures of him later when we grabbed coffee, just hold your horses.</div>
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Tuesday we trekked to Frank Lloyd Wright's winter home, which was pretty interesting, however NOT priced correctly with their website. In case you were going there and expecting Tuesdays to be considerably cheaper. And look! Pictures!</div>
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This was probably the most sweaty part of our trip since we had to spend so much time outside. When we finally got into a room for a while, the guide talked about how normally that room is quite comfortable, but the A/C had gone out. She kept looking at me and saying, "We'll be going to an air conditioned room soon" even though there were probably 20 more people to look at but I was the only one with sweat dripping down my hair onto my shirt while my bangs were matted to my forehead.<br />
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The tour was cool, and Frank Lloyd Wright had some interesting ideas. His work with acoustics was pretty amazing, so if you're interested in architecture I definitely think the Taliesen West is well worth the visit.<br />
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Wednesday we decided to head out to Tombstone, which neither of us knew was in Arizona until Amy and Earl were telling us places to visit a couple days before.<br />
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My boobs in real time, Tombstone, AZ. <br />
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Tombstone was interesting, but I will say it left a little to be desired. We probably walked past close to 20 gift shops and we were both admittedly expecting to be wowed and have a little bit more of an experience, almost like a theme park. That may sound ridiculous but I feel the need to inform others who read my blog and are thinking of visiting Tombstone, which is like everyone, right? We also went on a quiet Wednesday, and maybe it's a little more hoppin' on the weekends. That aside, we visited the Rose Tree Museum which had some great history, not to mention the freak rose tree in the back that was pretty spectacular. We then went through the mines, where I got to wear a hard hat! Well, everyone did.<br />
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Then we hung out with a dinosaur that we had seen at a McDonalds on our drive to Tombstone. There was also a giant grasshopper.<br />
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Next up we went to Cracker Barrel where I did something I've always wanted to do.<br />
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I saw the people next to us hardly ate their appetizer. So when they left, I...well, I ate some of it.<br />
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Oh, also, we pumped our own gas, which I was unreasonably happy to do. In case you don't know this, Oregonians do not pump their own gas. We have gas station attendants, and yes, I love it. It rains a lot here. But I do enjoy doing it myself when I'm on a trip. Actually, the first time I left the state by myself I forgot that I had to pump my own gas and thought the guy sitting in the station was just being a jerk. I sat in the car so long while we stared at each other and I thought he was going to come out that I drove away to another station when my friend realized we were in Washington and I was too embarrassed to stay there. I just drove away.<br />
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Anyway, on Thursday we had a lazy day where we actually did some laundry at the hotel. We are normally light packers and we realized that we didn't have enough summer clothes anyway, so we just washed them there. Then we went in search of a comic book shop for Jesse and a yarn store for me, and Jesse fell in love.<br />
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He even contemplated buying a $10 box of comics to then turn into carry on, thereby making it a $35 box of comic books, and that my friends did not happen. He got a giant Mongol figurine, and I am again talking about superheros and super villains as though I have any idea what is going on. At the yarn store I purchased some yarn for a table runner (that yarn is crazy town, I'll show it to you when it's finished).<br />
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Friday we went to a restaurant called <a href="http://www.centurionrestaurant.com/">Centurion</a> for our 4th visit that week. That place was bananas, and you should go there if you are visiting Phoenix. The chef is a crazy nice guy and he will serve you a great meal. Amy blogs about that place all the time, and she is not lying about how great it is. Fabius the centurion was out front, which of course we loved.<br />
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Friday afternoon we went to the Phoenix Art Museum where we immediately got in trouble for taking a picture of something we shouldn't (I was mimicking a nude statue) (I was clothed, btw) but the guy was very nice and told us what to look for if we couldn't take a photo. That place was HUGE. Definitely a good pick if you normally like art museums and galleries in general.<br />
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Then we went to Dutch Bros where Daniel works and got some coffee before we went to the Diamondbacks game. Enjoy the nice clear shots of his face.<br />
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<br />
Chase Field was pretty cool, especially when I got to watch the top open up. I felt a little bad for my dad when the Giants lost (his favorite team), but it was pretty great game. Says the person who doesn't know anything about sports.<br />
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Amy and Earl are pros about hiding from the camera. I barely got this picture.<br />
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The next morning we had some delicious breakfast and then started our 11 hour journey from airport to airport and plane to plane. The way back was supposed to be an hour and a half layover that became 4 hours. Another true story of woe and sadness including having to spend almost TEN DOLLARS on the smallest bottle of Aleve in an airport.<br />
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It was a pretty great trip. We were more than happy to be greeted with rain last week after having such a warm vacation in Phoenix. Oh, and!<br />
<br />
We rented a Fiat, which we did not know would be a Fiat, because we were told repeatedly it would be a Chevy Aveo (been there, done that, would you like to buy some other useless thing while you're here at the car rental place and there are more taxes to that than when you got your reservation and I have a bigger car for you to rent for only bla bla bla more and I don't listen and meeee mee MEEEEE). Anyway. I am so over car rental places. But everyone (everyone) loved our Fiat, which we had never heard of, being the car fanatics that we are.<br />
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That is the story of vacation tales and lazy days. To all of those people who notice that I regularly comment on your blog and that I have been very, very absent, my google reader is a scary place right now and it will take me some time, but have no fear of long sentences, I am coming to comment! It'll just take me a while. Thank you for tuning in to the latest episode of twelvedaysold, and don't forget to wear sunscreen.<br />
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</div>twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-15861642672873043492011-09-21T08:58:00.000-07:002011-09-25T18:08:27.855-07:00"What do you expect, mother? I'm half machine!"I have to admit, I'm rather impressed by your sentences including the word ductility. I had actually just meant that I wanted you to paste the word in there somewhere but I enjoyed my miscommunication much more.<br />
<br />
I realized I have four cards left and I hate having leftover postcards after a vacation (what are you supposed to do with them, you know?). So I either contacted everyone for their addresses or I already have it (not creepy). I just need yours, Sub Radar Mike! Because it's always fun getting mail from strangers. It's just how my parents raised me. Duff, Joann and JoAnn were the other lucky weiners!<br />
<br />
Today we are off to Tombstone! Which apparently means touring an old brothel. Don't worry, I'll bring hand sanitizer.
twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-29328661327804105352011-09-20T17:32:00.001-07:002011-09-25T18:11:59.050-07:00But it's a dry heat!We are currently in Phoenix, AZ. It's been really nice and fun even when my bangs were sticking to my forehead like a toddler at Frank Lloyd Wright's winter home. Amy and Earl were wonderful enough to let us stay at their place for a couple nights but now we're at a hotel where we can poop with the door open just like old times at home. I'm typing this on a small iPod screen which is driving me a little batty so I'm going to cut to the chase. I have three extra postcards for my followers since I bought a preset amount that I had come up with before I left my postcard list at home and since I can't remember everyone on it I'm just going to send some to followers instead because I already bought the stamps.<br />
<br />
To be eligible please put the word ductility in your comment.<br />
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twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-71174813171696651672011-09-12T11:02:00.000-07:002011-09-12T16:10:09.779-07:00I'm blue, if I were green I would die, if I were green I would dieWith summer vacation finished here in Oregon, I was reminiscing about how I would get all anxious before school started each year. Primarily, middle school. I would be all excited because I would have new clothes and get to see my friends again, but middle school is a dog eat dog world.<br />
<br />
I was also a little strange which never helped matters. Let's take a look. <br />
<br />
1.) In middle school I saw a picture of Vanilla Ice, which should have been
my first sign because Vanilla Ice hadn't been popular in ages, but I
loved the little cuts he had in his eyebrows. I'm already getting embarrassed.<br />
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<br />
Oh, the shame. I cut two little spaces in my eyebrows. This directly led to my discovery of eyebrow pencils, since I couldn't handle
making up terrible lies to my friends about why I had cut my eyebrows, because - shocker - none of
them thought it was cool.<br />
<br />
2.) One night I put this little clear round thing over a zit I had on my forehead. I can't remember what it was called, but you put it on a zit and when you removed it the next morning it was supposed to look better. All I know is the next day, mid morning, my friend said, "What is THAT?" and I was filled with self-loathing as I peeled it off my face in front of my friends in the hallway.<br />
<br />
2.5) I was home-schooled for about a year and a half in elementary school, and I'm trying to remember if I got as excited before a school year. I don't remember much about being home-schooled except I once got constipated, and after drinking a bunch of prune juice I still had to work on schoolwork. Thanks, <a href="http://www.notesfromgardenhome.com/">Mom</a>.<br />
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Oh, and just for fun, here's a picture of me shortly after I learned how to pluck my eyebrows:<br />
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<i><br /></i><br />
<i>FUN FACT</i>, this was taken in 8th grade and has the year 2000 written on the back of it, which is the year Jesse graduated from high school. He used to say, "I wish we could have met when we were younger, in high school." To which I have said, "You would have been that creepy senior dating an 8th grader."<br />
<br />
One more obnoxious comment, I have frogs on my shirt as well as on that hemp necklace I made. I'm sure all of you remember I also wore a hemp necklace I made in my 6th grade picture that I have <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2010/10/wordless-wednesday-20-toddler-and-sixth.html">posted here</a>. Crafty like ice is cold.<br />
<br />
I tried to look up things that were popular in the year 2000 but I couldn't find a good list and I didn't try that hard. However, Blue (Da ba dee) was a top 40 hit and Creed still had some songs up there. Thank goodness that madness is over and now we have Kesha and people who put Lil in from of their name, which I do not understand. This is really for my friend Brittney, do you remember listening to this song about 700 times at the skating rink in middle school? Good times, GHETTO SUPERSTAR TIMES.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/RtIGCGu9L90" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
P.S. Don't you hate it when people post a youtube video and you have to click the link to see it so you know you'll never watch it?<br />
<br />
Peace out,<br />
<br />
Lil Ktwelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-824837497502913692011-08-25T08:09:00.000-07:002011-08-25T08:09:46.919-07:00When the receptionist met the janitor.Four years ago today I was scrambling to write a few lines of vows on
the way to my wedding. I remember there was something in there about how I felt
like I could be myself around Jesse, my then fiance.<br />
<br />
I also remember
finding out on our honeymoon that the reason so many people were honking at us in our
decked out car was because someone wrote "Honk if you're straight" on the
back of it. Surprisingly? There are a lot of straight people out on
the road.<br />
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<br />
After less than a week of dating Jesse I
called my sister up and told her I was going to marry this guy that I
hadn't even said I love you to yet, and her... well. Thinking I was
insane.<br />
<br />
Jesse and I met when I was 18 through a mutual
friend at church. If you would have told us we would get married I
would have laughed in your face and I'm pretty sure Jesse would have
disappeared. So, we knew who each other were, and after time both of us attended different churches and over a year passed without us seeing each other.<br />
<br />
Three and a half months before our wedding, Jesse was
playing with his friends in a band at a coffee shop, and my friend Jenna
and I decided to meet up there. As stated, it had been over a year since I had seen Jesse and he nearly accosted me when I got there and wanted to hang out with me <i>so bad</i>. I didn't really
understand since I figured he thought I was obnoxious (which was true,
but who could stay away from this?) (apparently a lot of people). It
would be another week or so of hanging out amongst friends before Jesse
tricked me into getting "ice cream for everyone" which meant "let's get
ice cream and then park the car for two hours and talk". And, indeed, that is where we had The Talk.<br />
<br />
The
Talk was stopped abruptly when a policeman came up to the window and
asked how we were doing. He said that two girls had gotten off their
shift at Subway something like 45 minutes prior but saw Jesse's creepy truck with
the camper on it across the parking lot <i>and were afraid to leave so they called the cops. </i>Katie and Jesse, harassing Subway employees since 2007.<br />
<br />
And what splendid harassment it has been. I have never doubted for a moment our decision to get married. Wait. There was that time I found chunky (and decidedly NOT creamy) peanut butter in the pantry. Turned out I was the one who accidentally bought it, and I was resolute once again that Jesse and I were a perfect match.<br />
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<br />
So, toots, thanks for killing spiders for me and telling me I'm pretty and that you're sure no one noticed the booger hanging out of my nose the entire time I was out. Here's to another four years of going "No, YOU'RE cuter!" and making my parents gag.<br />
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twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-4500907740091625432011-08-10T09:19:00.000-07:002011-08-10T09:19:48.484-07:00Why is there yogurt in this hat?Let's go back to the time when I had raccoons living under my mobile home as a teenager.<br />
<br />
I
was about 17, still driving Ford Escort #1, and I was leaving my sister
Christy's house late one night after what I am sure was a riveting
evening of playing Crash Bandicoot. Immediately after getting into my
car, I smelled something rancid. There were some kids playing outside
and since my windows had been rolled down I wondered if maybe they had
thrown something dead into my car to mess with me. I didn't want them
to have the satisfaction of seeing me freak out (spoiler alert, they did
not put anything in my car), so I stopped around the corner, and pulled
the driver's seat forward. And then, AND THEN, I remembered.<br />
<br />
Weeks
earlier I had purchased a bottle of chocolate milk and didn't finish
all of it. I threw it behind the driver's seat. Before long... well.
Time makes fools of us all.<br />
<br />
Apparently the mystical
chocolate milk gasses had built up and blown the cap from the top of the
bottle. There was this thick, horrifying brown sludge-like mess on my
back window and it had covered the floor of the driver's side back seat.<br />
<br />
Here's
where the story kind of fizzles out, with me gagging while scraping out
the mire that once was chocolate milk, meanwhile trying to avoid the
giant raccoon that lived under my neighbor's house.<br />
<br />
So here's a video that my dad, Mark, made. Oh calm down, it's only 33 seconds.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/JGHax0q9tgo?fs=1" width="480"></iframe>twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-46507140622953837472011-08-01T10:33:00.000-07:002011-08-01T10:33:05.977-07:00"You know that I'm not allowed to wear hoop earrings, right? Two years ago she told me hoops earrings were *her* thing and I wasn't allowed to wear them anymore. And then for Hannakuh my parents got me this pair of really expensive white gold hoops and I had to pretend like I didn't even like them and... it was so sad."I have a problem with my earrings. I've tried a lot of things to keep them in order, but I have hated every single version. When I first got my ears pierced at 16 (I know, scandalous), I strung a piece of hemp above my door and would hang my manageable collection of earrings on it each night. Which is shocking, because this is what the rest of my room looked like.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjoAd-Ji2V0iAw2fRCPfsVAz_x5Km6CdwuJD_n4u9Xt6P9RdRFl1-0rkfSDmRsWA6qAYEaJTOPDl9R9idXVIpoWOav8jlQdjj2Y_cp2EJfRKovMhgCWd12PRdNpmGy6EG6RhS/s1600/disgusting+room+part+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjoAd-Ji2V0iAw2fRCPfsVAz_x5Km6CdwuJD_n4u9Xt6P9RdRFl1-0rkfSDmRsWA6qAYEaJTOPDl9R9idXVIpoWOav8jlQdjj2Y_cp2EJfRKovMhgCWd12PRdNpmGy6EG6RhS/s320/disgusting+room+part+1.jpg" width="227" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5XA_h9mvEEXhPFwxWgNv76mPOljo5-vzvIRuCiRRzwKzitjsDnsI21LQizoTwiRBG_3H6jvTKW3GWuXGPAkOzrPVIdDMWwlJ73x40Jhsomw-TJA_LEvDhyb4w5Dq5s80rpTQ/s1600/disgusting+room+part+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5XA_h9mvEEXhPFwxWgNv76mPOljo5-vzvIRuCiRRzwKzitjsDnsI21LQizoTwiRBG_3H6jvTKW3GWuXGPAkOzrPVIdDMWwlJ73x40Jhsomw-TJA_LEvDhyb4w5Dq5s80rpTQ/s320/disgusting+room+part+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I KNOW RIGHT<br />
<br />
I'm more embarrassed to put those pictures up than I thought I would be. Did anyone notice the totally-not-out-of-date-in-2003 lava lamp splayed on the bed? Me neither. (In regards to the mess on the bed that I am SHOCKED I SLEPT IN, I think I was cleaning that day and decided to take pictures of how horrifying I was. I used to put as much of my stuff as I could on the bed and then go through each item one by one without putting it anywhere if it didn't have a spot. I know, in theory it's a really great idea because I should have found a bunch of stuff to get rid of, but I always started cleaning like this around 11:30pm and by midnight I would shove it all onto the floor because I needed to go to sleep. Back to the earring thing.)<br />
<br />
As I collected more earrings, I bought and/or made multiple variations of earring holders, kind of like this one:<br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px;">
<a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/47041501/" target="_blank"><img 400'="" border="0" src="http://d30opm7hsgivgh.cloudfront.net/upload/47041501_D3icuKt2_c.jpg" width="331 height =" /></a></div>
<div style="float: left; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<div style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px;">
Source: <a href="http://kojodesigns.blogspot.com/2009/05/jewelry-frame-tutorial.html" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;">kojodesigns.blogspot.com</a> via <a href="http://pinterest.com/kaesma/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Ashley</a> on <a href="http://pinterest.com/" style="color: #76838b; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></div>
</div>
<br />
<br />
Except mine never looked that tidy. Or maybe it did because every time I touched it all the earrings would fall off. Has anyone else had this problem? I feel that maybe we just don't talk about it.<br />
<br />
I thought I would do an experiment and buy something new to hold my earrings. The technique to putting them away is similar to what I do now, which is drop them on the coffee table, but I will try and aim for one of these little <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004MFPYKK">egg cubbies</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVb0fj2L5s26N6p-m0iWvzgEqJeU6DSeiKqsRYX7meE73-dT_2KlD6Q3saViPkcaZQ2X8cd6EHVKkxx7ubOkbEU8jgcqd3ccv3aLuUa9yk1phnLt2ynzsvRufii5tbzg5KeCnX/s1600/P1050854.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVb0fj2L5s26N6p-m0iWvzgEqJeU6DSeiKqsRYX7meE73-dT_2KlD6Q3saViPkcaZQ2X8cd6EHVKkxx7ubOkbEU8jgcqd3ccv3aLuUa9yk1phnLt2ynzsvRufii5tbzg5KeCnX/s320/P1050854.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Cute, right?<br />
<br />
But first I thought I would go around the house and see where I found my earrings, and I am less embarrassed than I thought I would be to post these after posting pictures of my teenage bedroom.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzAsJL0L7nhBieNU1U-qy5jpaiz6wI9m0JxftKL4hinzO4sP2BWo5E2yWVVy9J0pn8yaDt3OcGR3VH7sd6KZKZbqOEyg6VVNmxW9PGx48eo310zs6P9o-seVWvtkdG8YmyLwZ/s1600/P1050840.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzAsJL0L7nhBieNU1U-qy5jpaiz6wI9m0JxftKL4hinzO4sP2BWo5E2yWVVy9J0pn8yaDt3OcGR3VH7sd6KZKZbqOEyg6VVNmxW9PGx48eo310zs6P9o-seVWvtkdG8YmyLwZ/s320/P1050840.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQ06R1pmqfZlEigmJ36fxpyT9WNqkVttG-Fw06_eocLkd-rfLngcfEz784ZAo698jZ4VpAolpoj9eYWJGfEXRorC-cMf7gfu_zdFyFNtpc8iijn3z4u_vuXuprETAnIn35lPT/s1600/P1050841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQ06R1pmqfZlEigmJ36fxpyT9WNqkVttG-Fw06_eocLkd-rfLngcfEz784ZAo698jZ4VpAolpoj9eYWJGfEXRorC-cMf7gfu_zdFyFNtpc8iijn3z4u_vuXuprETAnIn35lPT/s320/P1050841.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
This next one is a planter (planter? Is that the right word? Obviously I do a lot of planting) that I filled with my jewelry which was a stellar idea. It got knocked over and rolled under the bed (also, the marks inside of it are from it being filled with pens previously. Again, with the planting).<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YcItsnTs2do/TjDgHvOtkJI/AAAAAAAABsM/OdeN2OUTSAE/s1600/P1050849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YcItsnTs2do/TjDgHvOtkJI/AAAAAAAABsM/OdeN2OUTSAE/s320/P1050849.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzblCiaXfExT_tTkhBU8yPI9QgEAspPBRh8kA7OfLHoytj_5VyRdwo1VszzThO8_AQ-w55FPJXD2mbb17J_84aKxKin0fDibLGyRce-C2S7wXgEnEyth5UV0xoLsvjbnX_hS1H/s1600/P1050850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzblCiaXfExT_tTkhBU8yPI9QgEAspPBRh8kA7OfLHoytj_5VyRdwo1VszzThO8_AQ-w55FPJXD2mbb17J_84aKxKin0fDibLGyRce-C2S7wXgEnEyth5UV0xoLsvjbnX_hS1H/s320/P1050850.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0FzBXNBSwzR1pToqFSOyan1IbO-1ZeVN5MgtNnddRHMotCn83S1KUPyfTqf83VV-OUAW3h2X2k8b2AO4rx_GAwlnDtqzlbZTtGEiQBjr1ucHo4yTdhTa4A2v1hEQ_u8JrHYK/s1600/P1050853.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0FzBXNBSwzR1pToqFSOyan1IbO-1ZeVN5MgtNnddRHMotCn83S1KUPyfTqf83VV-OUAW3h2X2k8b2AO4rx_GAwlnDtqzlbZTtGEiQBjr1ucHo4yTdhTa4A2v1hEQ_u8JrHYK/s320/P1050853.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Which leads to:<br />
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And I am in love. Jesse is too because he would constantly be picking up my earrings and going, "If you had a place to put these I would put them away while I'm picking up." Obviously he doesn't pay attention because I already HAD a place under the bed, but anything to make his life easier.<br />
<br />
Did anyone notice the Larry Boy earring? <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixXASayCNPYyPHgMt06LO8lgxfW3BWRL1KyqoYcnnHRUYizv-8VDverI4lR-hkJYpa6uJSk33j30liS9wnDopS_ixABNFPO_2YbTyKaKPjYUcKtWKGuNS_dcxi07qM6Vl4yEhC/s1600/larryboy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixXASayCNPYyPHgMt06LO8lgxfW3BWRL1KyqoYcnnHRUYizv-8VDverI4lR-hkJYpa6uJSk33j30liS9wnDopS_ixABNFPO_2YbTyKaKPjYUcKtWKGuNS_dcxi07qM6Vl4yEhC/s200/larryboy1.jpg" width="128" /></a></div>
<br />
One time during an assembly in high school I noticed this plunger looking thing sticking out of the wall, and <a href="http://notanauthoryet.blogspot.com/">Amy</a> was sitting in front of me. I leaned forward in that wood seat, pointed and said, "Larry Boy got stuck in the wall." She started giggling which made me giggle and while leaning forward like that and pushing down on my abdomen in a laugh, I farted and the sound cascaded through that auditorium. twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-2686235270085942052011-07-28T00:18:00.000-07:002011-07-28T00:18:58.425-07:00Present #1: Happy birthday, Jesse bear!Happy birthday, Jesse! <br />
<br />
This is what I was uploading last weekend that was bogging down our internet.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/E-BAqz3W9B4?hl=en&fs=1" width="425"></iframe><br />
<br />
That saucy little look at the camera the last couple seconds is <i>just</i> <i>for you</i>, baby. <br />
<br />
Preeeetty sure this is the best five dollars I've ever spent.<br />
<br />
Now get back to opening the rest of your presents, handsome man. Well, pre<i>sent</i>, but there's more in store today!<br />
<br />
(For all the non-birthday attendants who are <i>obviously</i> wondering how to get a hold of this guy, here's <a href="http://fiverr.com/users/dancingdror">DancingDror</a>'s page to buy your own 30 second inexplicable dance with whatever you want him to write on his stomach for $5. He'll let you choose the song, but I told him to just do "whatever feels right". MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.)twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-29157036535219616972011-07-14T16:33:00.000-07:002011-07-14T16:33:40.003-07:00Faster than a speeding dog, more powerful than a high kick to the face, it's...I got some new photos of myself taken recently. I thought I would share them with you.<br />
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<br />
Ugh, I look fat, don't I? I hung these up by my mirror as motivation to not let myself look like that <i>ever again</i>.<br />
<br />
Summer has arrived in Portland! The sun is shining, the tank is clean--THE TANK IS CLEAN. I actually came to tell you a story of my childhood.<br />
<br />
When I was a kid I thought that since I was able to run as fast as my dog, Auggie, that I was as fast as Superman. There is that scene in the first Superman movie where he is running next to a train, right? And we watched that movie a couple years ago when we were snowed in during Christmas and those movies are terrible.<br />
<br />
All.<br />
Four.<br />
Of.<br />
Them.<br />
<br />
Except if Jesse is reading this, then oh honey. I love those movies so much, kind of.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I thought that OF COURSE my overweight cocker spaniel was just as fast as Superman, because everyone knows dogs have super speed. And since I could run as fast as Auggie, logically, I was as fast as Superman.<br />
<br />
Then again, I was also the kid who peed in a heater vent. <br />
<br />
Superdog:<br />
<br />
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<br />
He looks sad there, doesn't he? I know it's hard carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, Superdog. Don't let it get you down. <br />
<br />
I also thought that I could do a majorly awesome high kick, and attempted so in the kitchen when I was 8. I leaned so far over during my "kick" that I kneed myself square in the nose and sneezed for half an hour. One second I thought I was doing a ballin' high kick. The
next I realized I'd kneed myself in the face, and either I was really
glad that no one saw it take place or my poor mind has blocked out if
anyone else was there.twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-70321282509550735032011-06-27T16:41:00.000-07:002011-06-29T14:38:56.926-07:00P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, SydneyI sold those dishes! And no I didn't spend some of the money on fast food. Please. (Jack in the Box.)<br />
<br />
I'm also working on a truly hideous scarf that I kept trying to tell myself I liked because I'm gaudy, and then as I was knitting I came across a big patch of yarn that had maple syrup on it and realized I HATED THAT SCARF. I tried to wash it off and then I put it in a bag so I wouldn't have to look at it anymore. ANY. MORE.<br />
<br />
But really, I think I like it a lot because that thing is <i>ugly</i>.<br />
<br />
Oh man, I was just reminded of the time when there were raccoons fighting outside of my bedroom in high school. I woke up in a cold sweat and heard this horrible hissing and barking outside and was convinced there were rabid dogs near my window. When I looked out I saw two raccoons hissing and snarling at each other and suddenly? My image of cute little raccoons was ruined forever.<br />
<br />
Those stupid raccoons were destructive. And I just realized maybe I shouldn't tell the story I was actually going to tell. No, I will. The raccoons were a problem, getting under everyone's mobile homes and having babies under the floor and eating all of Cinnamon's food and washing their creepy human looking fingers in his water every night. So my dad got a permit and a trap from Fish and Wildlife to catch them, and they said feel free to trap and <i>kill</i> them because they were a problem.<br />
<br />
During that time I was on my way home from a choir trip and called to check in. I don't remember how he got around to it, but my dad said he had killed a raccoon. Even though we didn't own guns I think I asked if he shot it. When he said no, I asked if he broke its neck. "Broke its neck? I'm not sticking my arm in there with a hissing raccoon. I drowned it."<br />
<br />
WHAAAT IS THIS<br />
<br />
And my dad proceeded to say that he put cinder blocks together and stuck a tarp in it, essentially making an above ground pool, if you will. He filled it with water and put the cage, raccoon included, into it. Dad just emailed me. I am supposed to call this the Pit of Death.<br />
<br />
THE RING OF FIRE <br />
<br />
But isn't it saying something about how manly I think my dad is that I thought he broke a raccoon's neck? I have this totally butch image of my dad. In my head he is the epitome of manliness, riding a tyrannosaurus rex through the burning wasteland. You know, punching sharks and stuff. <i>There are sharks on land in this terrifying future</i>. <br />
<br />
Really he just likes to play puzzles and doesn't actually enjoy being the designated raccoon killer of the family.<br />
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Um, anyway, Jesse and I went to the Oregon Coast Aquarium last weekend. Sharkbait, hoo ha ha.<br />
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I sent my parents an email about the raccoon story to get their feedback. While <a href="http://arewenotmenmw.blogspot.com/">my dad</a> wrote, "be sure to accurately describe the Pit of Death," <a href="http://www.notesfromgardenhome.com/">my mother</a> said, "I was not involved. I thought the whole idea was madness." Those two sentences regarding the same story describe my parents perfectly.twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-39238721725316789662011-06-09T21:20:00.000-07:002011-06-09T21:20:52.726-07:00They tryin' to catch me ridin' DIRTAY. And Cinnamon does not like getting on a bike.I'd like you to meet....<br />
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Princess Peach.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipZqgGjj3RfnZbNkajsISMYXohHV_T_8qH5xxLd0zzQxLXOhxgzea-8sfIul5WhhVe8B3sN60KVfRUa0-oj-3tHPvujDnFV8WgikDWD16ufHwnafFV0xjE6lFwjFGXMxtIXvgK/s1600/P1050595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipZqgGjj3RfnZbNkajsISMYXohHV_T_8qH5xxLd0zzQxLXOhxgzea-8sfIul5WhhVe8B3sN60KVfRUa0-oj-3tHPvujDnFV8WgikDWD16ufHwnafFV0xjE6lFwjFGXMxtIXvgK/s400/P1050595.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-DClUv6yfstlTvkIlxMDuI44_1VOGt47mqKr1zH8wm7nDYbqZPhMgTSNDplCnZix9fPe13OvnCyCNvG5BPJDKg0FLGKHfAXr1Ngus9I8sE5v34sV8I33YVrV0QprcFR44BMQ/s1600/P1050652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-DClUv6yfstlTvkIlxMDuI44_1VOGt47mqKr1zH8wm7nDYbqZPhMgTSNDplCnZix9fPe13OvnCyCNvG5BPJDKg0FLGKHfAXr1Ngus9I8sE5v34sV8I33YVrV0QprcFR44BMQ/s400/P1050652.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfxWGw_WmosNbVdM9l1_gRCEwM0eYsK7O0Xe5XCGUqisoT7Sq9KajxGpk9KF5o0hXIyyALJqUbNRxGWY3JyoOrpCSrm6C4w512JNqGuiLjLC2plElEeKo3RB8K34YXCHOKSWx/s1600/P1050752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfxWGw_WmosNbVdM9l1_gRCEwM0eYsK7O0Xe5XCGUqisoT7Sq9KajxGpk9KF5o0hXIyyALJqUbNRxGWY3JyoOrpCSrm6C4w512JNqGuiLjLC2plElEeKo3RB8K34YXCHOKSWx/s400/P1050752.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Don't worry, Cinnamon gave me a nice scratch on my neck for these ones.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ9uanHuW7r9kV-qokshX8SZRuNWVwhrlMgMMgwaLdGPw2tq2KBZmpevvmlQsTwgkqpIouS9ZhnJUEUOprpaprByxgAcJf9Cxj-OtIrnqLdZ6wvA8zv9r-CvPBEuRdHbiTnP6x/s1600/P1050711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ9uanHuW7r9kV-qokshX8SZRuNWVwhrlMgMMgwaLdGPw2tq2KBZmpevvmlQsTwgkqpIouS9ZhnJUEUOprpaprByxgAcJf9Cxj-OtIrnqLdZ6wvA8zv9r-CvPBEuRdHbiTnP6x/s400/P1050711.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdttYUbJ6IXEX5m3LNE1vfOM97c7NgmP-f1qF4YY2wMtazUZ0fBlDY4847yhafd3vRrBRD0Cap6u1szAcBF_sDqREGyMh2DwQV6nfp9HE37bbnMcail0QroaR_S_nx79-bbfk7/s1600/P1050714.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdttYUbJ6IXEX5m3LNE1vfOM97c7NgmP-f1qF4YY2wMtazUZ0fBlDY4847yhafd3vRrBRD0Cap6u1szAcBF_sDqREGyMh2DwQV6nfp9HE37bbnMcail0QroaR_S_nx79-bbfk7/s400/P1050714.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
For those of you interested in how I earned the money to buy a bike (which none of you asked, but here I am still typing) here is a breakdown. You may notice I did not make any money by way of illegal activity, because I hear that involves a lot of standing on street corners and it's been raining a lot.<br />
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I'm part of a few survey sites, and was very diligent in taking all of those stupid surveys. Late into many a night* was spent marking the correct box. Female, 18-24, White/Caucasian, REPEAT AD NAUSEUM.<br />
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*No later than 8:30 pm. I got things to do, son.<br />
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Survey site #1: $30<br />
Survey site #2: $25<br />
Survey site #3: $50<br />
Selling a video camera on Craigslist: $50<br />
Wiper refund: $5<br />
Mystery shopping (it's a mystery indeed!): $75<br />
Interest in my fat bank account: $1.42<br />
Pennies that were in a bank shaped like a crayon: $5.58<br />
Jury duty: $15.80 <br />
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Tidbit #1: This is the crayon bank I was filling with pennies:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvPow-9WW9znHU0kJod-UM-HRHgzmb863BY4rahITmp-wr5S-P48KNBO2cijdc0l4qZg3OxFikycL5VHZfAvrT7seevzVlgoN83BdBSo3iNgG7RESSmJ1p4fCXgY8dqEaGJ_S6/s1600/jesse+files+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvPow-9WW9znHU0kJod-UM-HRHgzmb863BY4rahITmp-wr5S-P48KNBO2cijdc0l4qZg3OxFikycL5VHZfAvrT7seevzVlgoN83BdBSo3iNgG7RESSmJ1p4fCXgY8dqEaGJ_S6/s400/jesse+files+014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I am sure Jesse is ecstatic about me posting that picture. <br />
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I only got to about the C in crayon. Tidbit #1.5, I had a spreadsheet that listed where all the money came from in my bike fund and was copying the information over here. Instead of pennies, it said penis. Awkward, frown-filled moment with myself, there.<br />
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Tidbit #2: I ended up receiving TWO rebate checks for the wiper refund, but Jesse made me be a good person and I only cashed one. I'm bitter and all, but I guess he's right that I don't feel guilt about cashing that extra five bucks. (If they send more I'm not telling him.)<br />
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Tidbit #3: If you want to know the survey sites I use, don't be afraid to ask! Because for just six easy payments of -- wait, that's my Botox pitch. I'm getting confused.<br />
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I bought that bike and knew that it would be a possibility that I would have to ride it home from the shop if it didn't fit into the ample backside of Evan, <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2010/08/knock-knock-whos-there-im-evan.html">our VW Beetle</a>.<br />
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If you've seen a VW Beetle you know that was a wonderful pipe dream, and that I would be riding it home from the bike shop. Four and a half miles. No big deal, right?<br />
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Well, sure, no big deal if you're used to riding a bike for 4 1/2 miles, of course. Because my minor asthma was all YEAH LIKE THIS IS GOING TO HAPPEN and Jesse ended up riding it the last three miles home.<br />
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There's a pretty rough hill on the ride home (through a nearby trail) and Jesse had to endure stares from others as he rode a girl's bike and then quit halfway through to walk. Have I mentioned how great he is? He didn't bat an eye as I came to a stop by the car and he said, "Get on in, I'll ride it the rest of the way."<br />
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Tidbit #M: I finished those mittens I referenced in the last post, and here's a picture. However, all the photos of these mittens about made me pee myself, so if you'd like to view all the shots, <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/twelvedaysold/Mittens02?feat=directlink">here's a link</a> to the Picasa album. Also, <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/twelvedaysold/Bike?feat=directlink">here's the link to all the bike photos</a> if you like to really stalk people like I do.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglvC3mkpJgv2XiGS5v80MLfWbKMg2uzebloNp6EOrMUvorTcEB7pgWCgrRdH1Of6oOXthmGk3ZVaBSyb778cVCeO1OP_vqcYCA9N5FEuC13CHoA_rxCflEsA55TOkS95GmFPq/s1600/P1050616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglvC3mkpJgv2XiGS5v80MLfWbKMg2uzebloNp6EOrMUvorTcEB7pgWCgrRdH1Of6oOXthmGk3ZVaBSyb778cVCeO1OP_vqcYCA9N5FEuC13CHoA_rxCflEsA55TOkS95GmFPq/s400/P1050616.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-15247584921556767372011-05-27T17:58:00.000-07:002011-05-27T17:58:03.346-07:00Joey: Here's a little tip, she really likes it when you rub her neck in the same spot over and over and over again until it starts to get a little red.Calm down, I'm here.<br />
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Things have been blissfully uneventful, and sometimes that's just what I need. I need the steady pace of a cat meowing outside my door at four in the morning and a husband that stays cute and draws things. (Here's <a href="http://mrjessebray.blogspot.com/">a link</a> to his blog with some new designs he's done, go check it out!)<br />
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I've made/fixed up a couple things, so here are pictures:<br />
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TABLE RUNNER<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Ilhua2wEiF1lc-_S0YlO-cehFmOjGVtWZXz-pMYaGhI1Tb7AJEPVtT6HN-DHbaTUe-ev5CdPSKWpUx9IEmzY-_kRTpYVqb2gfBIsDwOcJhyGDc2DOMuBzwbouMABqGtP9kql/s1600/TABLE+RUNNER+DOESN%2527T+LIKE+PEOPLE.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Ilhua2wEiF1lc-_S0YlO-cehFmOjGVtWZXz-pMYaGhI1Tb7AJEPVtT6HN-DHbaTUe-ev5CdPSKWpUx9IEmzY-_kRTpYVqb2gfBIsDwOcJhyGDc2DOMuBzwbouMABqGtP9kql/s400/TABLE+RUNNER+DOESN%2527T+LIKE+PEOPLE.JPG" width="290" /></a></div><br />
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CAT TREATS LID<br />
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I put glitter on the cat treats lid, and was trying to find a good angle to showcase the glitter when someone in the background didn't like that I was just holding the jar and not getting down to business.<br />
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KEY RING<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5v0Ygoey0PK9FooZL4FjRH28pfRDiGY2fwUL6bz-D8QfVkBgZgSF65t3heWXnZfQG5-3hTM91nyUfrsSg0lM1-qCiP9z62S4tSqiXxm9LrCrduKHLYDN-UTeUoDRtUM5uqTAq/s1600/KEYHOLDER+OF+DESTRUCTION+AND+EARMITES.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5v0Ygoey0PK9FooZL4FjRH28pfRDiGY2fwUL6bz-D8QfVkBgZgSF65t3heWXnZfQG5-3hTM91nyUfrsSg0lM1-qCiP9z62S4tSqiXxm9LrCrduKHLYDN-UTeUoDRtUM5uqTAq/s320/KEYHOLDER+OF+DESTRUCTION+AND+EARMITES.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
In other boring, grown up news, 2011 is becoming THE YEAR THAT SUNSHINE FORGOT. Us Portlanders have stopped complaining about the crummy weather and just started shaking our fists and then hanging our heads in despair. I'm knitting <i>mittens</i>, for crying out loud. It's almost June. I've been reading all these Australian blogs and am starting to feel like maybe we're on the other side of the equator. I'll be spending my Memorial Day weekend nesting and finishing <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Soulless-Parasol-Protectorate-Gail-Carriger/dp/0316056634?ie=UTF8&tag=widgetsamazon-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">good books</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=widgetsamazon-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0316056634" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />. I <i>should</i> be nesting and finishing good books and saying, "We really should be outside."<br />
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This summer is going to be eventful though, with <a href="http://www.socksummit.com/">SOCK SUMMIT</a> in July (w00t!) and then a super secret vacation to go and see my friend <a href="http://notanauthoryet.blogspot.com/">Amy</a>. <br />
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Also, if you're going to Sock Summit, let me know! I'll be there Saturday July 30th (a mere two days after my man turns 29 and after 48 hours of me going "I'm only 24, neener!"). I'd love to meet up (or ruthlessly avoid, BE HONEST) and I can give you some pointers about things in the Portland area. And by "pointers" I mean I'm going to tell you the worst way to get somewhere and then when you're hopelessly lost on public transit and you send me a desperate text message, I'll only reply "?".<br />
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Anyone need a set of dishes?twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-22949150155039692492011-04-10T21:50:00.000-07:002011-04-10T21:53:54.692-07:00"I know you can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?" "I think you can in Europe."<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Are you ready to go?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Jesse: Yes.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Where are your shoes?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Jesse: Hey, you're the one knitting by the front door. Like a crazy person.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This crazy person has been finishing a lot of projects recently, including a new pair of fingerless gloves for Jesse.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Oh, and peoples be asking me 'cuz they curious about my bike fund affairs and, no. No one has wanted those dishes that I put up on Craigslist. This is definitely the longest I have ever put something on Craiglist without giving up. Usually after the first day I've lost all hope and change the listing to free so it gets out of our house. I once put up a dress for $30 and two days later I made it $5. Patience is my something or other.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And here? Is my prom picture with my friend Alex and my feet. I mentioned it in <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2011/03/baby-when-i-met-you-for-first-time-i.html">this post</a>.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizQgz6y-PeqxNPdpjge3kT_CWdulrl7L7KxMuok86O0jfXLnUiTdUv35UqL1-l_uaHdCKLeVvhShJfdZCyyYuEgaU36uyWqLYyPWDLdBjRjzLtfM_jzXLDA1iqazqaoKiDB5pW/s1600/nsfw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizQgz6y-PeqxNPdpjge3kT_CWdulrl7L7KxMuok86O0jfXLnUiTdUv35UqL1-l_uaHdCKLeVvhShJfdZCyyYuEgaU36uyWqLYyPWDLdBjRjzLtfM_jzXLDA1iqazqaoKiDB5pW/s400/nsfw.jpg" width="281" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I was wearing these strappy shoes that made me taller than Alex, so I asked him if he wanted me to take them off for the photo. He said he didn't care. And I, for some reason unknown to me, thought my feet wouldn't show up in the picture anyway.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">I think I've built up the whole foot thing, because it really wasn't a big deal, but who, really, <i>who</i> is barefoot in a prom picture? Here's a quote from Susan about the whole foot t</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">hing. "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Your</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="il" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">feet</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">don't look funny, they look ugly. Which is much worse. And it's weird because you normally have nice looking</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="il" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">f</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="il" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">ee</span><span class="il" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">t</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">"</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: inherit;">REEE REEE REEE </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI4qImy18NXVjNps1MV9VB5_xuhBsT2yietLQRh_TsJMg64nPp6XHdwgmlfBY72PgVq7FbtVFw37JWBNdXawKpNUUqESgsKyBGhSX86KQDiYg5dN4C8jyDVbpZlVr6sUsAeAAg/s1600/REE+REE+REE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI4qImy18NXVjNps1MV9VB5_xuhBsT2yietLQRh_TsJMg64nPp6XHdwgmlfBY72PgVq7FbtVFw37JWBNdXawKpNUUqESgsKyBGhSX86KQDiYg5dN4C8jyDVbpZlVr6sUsAeAAg/s1600/REE+REE+REE.jpg" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: inherit;">6y</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: inherit;">That 6y was brought to you by your favorite online fluffball, Cinnamon. Here is an old photo of him when he was just a wee boy. And when I was just a wee girl and my photography skills were bangin'.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hfSHaVEUyCo/TaAFQuw2HKI/AAAAAAAABTg/OK7tu5ATijs/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hfSHaVEUyCo/TaAFQuw2HKI/AAAAAAAABTg/OK7tu5ATijs/s400/1.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">No, I'm serious, I actually won a camera because of a picture I t</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">ook in first grade. There were two categories to win from, one of which I don't remember and then one that was like "pensive". I had no idea what that meant, so I submitted a picture I took at the beach. I didn't win the pensive category, but wouldn't that have been a much more interesting story?</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: inherit;">Here's a pensive one for you.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu9hUq-u2tNXyI1yAQscBPjI1BZemrqWh0j945qoG1xI_wv7yT3ZKGWGVG6I3sqOWMVaQJjgKbHufFdM-xjrabkqFxkcr4qJl30pGm7GrOiCyAL8NQRPIUF2Ss6CCLHTiTnhaF/s1600/P1050393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu9hUq-u2tNXyI1yAQscBPjI1BZemrqWh0j945qoG1xI_wv7yT3ZKGWGVG6I3sqOWMVaQJjgKbHufFdM-xjrabkqFxkcr4qJl30pGm7GrOiCyAL8NQRPIUF2Ss6CCLHTiTnhaF/s400/P1050393.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: inherit;">Shoot. I guess I was going for thoughtful.</span>twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-69790660319456861202011-03-28T22:45:00.000-07:002011-03-28T22:53:26.443-07:00Baby, when I met you for the first time I knew. We were meant to be as oooooone.Jesse said he'll always remember the fateful day we met. Love at first sight, he says. He knew he would be adopting me and giving me my "forever home".<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAfVIEf7NvBomhpDP8z3GxSE0RQ-E3qY4DJXuhgLWwtS5f4Psj8D_hzyEjegQv2i9bX2KfhQmMKP4TZ6AOSjlYch8ATRjspdACPXnmF1UsbcPUyMnxwUgcuBfVX2Fm-Q3i6k2/s1600/atta+girl.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAfVIEf7NvBomhpDP8z3GxSE0RQ-E3qY4DJXuhgLWwtS5f4Psj8D_hzyEjegQv2i9bX2KfhQmMKP4TZ6AOSjlYch8ATRjspdACPXnmF1UsbcPUyMnxwUgcuBfVX2Fm-Q3i6k2/s320/atta+girl.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And it looks like I was on sale.<br />
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You know, it's my behavior in pictures like this that made my mother hate it when my dad and I were together in public. Something about being immature. Or something. Waa waaaa.<br />
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I'm still saving up my pennies to buy a bike, but I want you to know that that cute husband of mine totally tried to get me to buy a bike online with a CREDIT CARD. I know, right?! This guy!<br />
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<a href="http://brighterthanannie.blogspot.com/">Annie</a>, who is a dedicated follower, yet I have never mentioned her before because I'm a horrible person, sent me this beauty.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgFIYrzugDfE1H4An9RnJY7071xZwl0X2aAMdMyOOiz4AyLKAxG6FLl6VKyHqjBQnY9BGyTwIp3sJ_UpKe_praVw2m6Exw9Cv5mJDRzpYgsAUVpD8n71jnVLRqM9_3YumUkLjx/s1600/essex_dlx_pink_2100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgFIYrzugDfE1H4An9RnJY7071xZwl0X2aAMdMyOOiz4AyLKAxG6FLl6VKyHqjBQnY9BGyTwIp3sJ_UpKe_praVw2m6Exw9Cv5mJDRzpYgsAUVpD8n71jnVLRqM9_3YumUkLjx/s320/essex_dlx_pink_2100.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Not like, sent me a bike, but sent me a link. It's the thought that counts, really. I mean, <i>look at it.</i> My gosh, it's gorgeous.<br />
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An old friend from high school is now following me, and his name is Alex. Alex and I went to his junior prom together, where he very romantically said something like, "I need a date to prom. Can you come?" I'm going to find the picture from that prom and post it, and Susan is already giggling because my feet look funny in that picture. Actually, I just realized that my date to my senior prom was equally as wooed by me as I was wooed by Alex when I said to him, "Sean, I need someone taller than me to be my date to prom. Want to be my date?" A way with words, we have.<br />
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And a pretty girl named Megan is following me. I do not know anything about her. So let's make something up. Megan is from Idaho, yet she's been spending the last three years in Paraguay finding herself. She had a short romantic interest in handsome Andrès, a doctor. Things fizzled out towards the end, what with him being a busy doctor and her teaching children English. But recently she found Louis, a Scottish biologist who was spending a vacation in Paraguay after grad school. He just went back to Scotland, and Megan is trying to get back in the states so she can get things arranged to move out to the UK. Because, guess what? Even though they only knew each other three weeks, they're engaged! Oh it's so exciting. The lives my followers lead.twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-71787992410769198352011-03-10T12:09:00.000-08:002011-03-10T12:36:13.736-08:00They see me rollin', they hatin'.I have a new follower! Katie at <a href="http://philosophyofklo.blogspot.com/">The Philosphy of KLo</a>. Except my name is already Katie, so I'm going to call her something else. Like Shannon. Welcome, Shannon!<br />
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I definitely don't have anything exciting to share, so I will talk to you about how I want a new bike. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-r35oaHf3eEc/TXkTKoZy4iI/AAAAAAAABQ4/YeryLxagtAA/s1600/Banana+Seat+Bike+Purple+400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-r35oaHf3eEc/TXkTKoZy4iI/AAAAAAAABQ4/YeryLxagtAA/s320/Banana+Seat+Bike+Purple+400.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
"Shocks, pegs...lucky!"<br />
<br />
<br />
Why don't they make adult bikes with a banana seat?<br />
<br />
I'm actually looking for something more like this because I'm a boring grown up:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU-OWatg75yVvxLKuQHCfO1ePY30CCcB8LBpFMVTUtk4q-m8-_ZlgZW615hnaveocS_-pYPevTn6HjklDuB35Bixm5FeSgoMMjC6i90Rgu7y7XDlI-2BIYTkL-02W_-nn5VEb1/s1600/comfort+for+the+butt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU-OWatg75yVvxLKuQHCfO1ePY30CCcB8LBpFMVTUtk4q-m8-_ZlgZW615hnaveocS_-pYPevTn6HjklDuB35Bixm5FeSgoMMjC6i90Rgu7y7XDlI-2BIYTkL-02W_-nn5VEb1/s1600/comfort+for+the+butt.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Except in some gaudy, hideous color because that's what I like. What I'm really here to talk about though, is how I feel like a kid because I'm saving up for a bike. Do you know how long it's been since I saved up for something? We're staying away from using credit cards because I'm planning a <a href="http://www.notesfromgardenhome.com/?p=4131">gargantuan</a> road trip later this year and don't care for that looming thing known as a credit card payment. Thorn in my side.<br />
<br />
I've been saving up whatever outside money I can (not dipping into our weekly budget) for my sweet new ride, including a $15 check from Washington county for my jury duty service. I'm still waiting for a rebate check from my windshield wipers. If that last sentence doesn't sound like the epitome of what every teenager never wants to talk about when they become an adult, then I just don't know what does.<br />
<br />
I'm also doing something I loathe, which is selling things on Craigslist. Or, more accurately, putting things on Craigslist and nobody buying them. I'm not selling my garbage or anything, it's just becoming painfully obvious that me (the seller) and Craigslist viewers (the buyer) have something in common: neither of us want those dishes.<br />
<br />
Here is a photo of my large head and my unnecessary urge to smile as large as I can in photos. Oh, and Jesse.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7W3jbfO_hv2QLRgFIcxgtU_mSdYg0dWfgRE41_PWBgFasnkAAFGplEWWxUY5Am3YqZupf4T-UgJKN8vz-LIpDShU4dDGCJ3Ce6F4ehFHrAYHEtSNHUC9PPbLR-3vx5ndVkAyT/s1600/BIG+FACE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7W3jbfO_hv2QLRgFIcxgtU_mSdYg0dWfgRE41_PWBgFasnkAAFGplEWWxUY5Am3YqZupf4T-UgJKN8vz-LIpDShU4dDGCJ3Ce6F4ehFHrAYHEtSNHUC9PPbLR-3vx5ndVkAyT/s320/BIG+FACE.jpg" width="308" /></a></div><br />
Oh, right, JESSE! For those of you interested, a while back we found out <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2011/01/diabeetus-and-what-do-you-mean-i-want.html">Jesse has type 2 diabetes</a>, and we went in for his follow up blood test two days ago. His blood sugars are reeeally close to pre-diabetic levels! This is really great news. And, we have not spent any quality time with <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jillian-Michaels-30-Day-Shred/dp/B00127RAJY?ie=UTF8&tag=widgetsamazon-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Jillian Michaels</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=widgetsamazon-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B00127RAJY" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /> lately, either. That means we've been terrible about exercising. Just imagine what he could accomplish with his blood sugars if we actually started exercising. He could be a hero. He could go from diabetic to SUPER HUMAN. Or maybe just a fit guy.<br />
<br />
Stay classy,<br />
<br />
Katie Westsidetwelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-30922385353206870422011-02-28T16:45:00.000-08:002011-02-28T16:45:00.565-08:00Justice is blind.<span style="color: black;">Veterinarian</span><span style="color: black;">: Justice is fine. </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Michael </span><span style="color: black;">: Great. </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Veterinarian</span><span style="color: black;">: Although, dressing him up like a seeing eye dog seems a bit cruel. </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Michael</span><span style="color: black;">: Cruel? </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Veterinarian</span><span style="color: black;">: Well, yeah because he can't see. </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Michael</span><span style="color: black;">: What are you talking about? </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Veterinarian</span>: Mr. Bluth... Justice is blind.<br />
<br />
The last time I went to jury duty, I got interviewed for a jury. They were asking all these questions and then they'd look at their sheet and be like "Mmmmm, Mister So-and-so? How do you feel about that?" and I would go, oh crap, I gotta pay attention, I have NO IDEA what they just asked. And then a minute later I'd hear them ask another juror what they thought and then repeat my last reaction. It was a fun morning.<br />
<br />
Then we got released for a long lunch which helped me a lot seeing as I didn't live on that side of town. But my eye had been killing me all morning. So I went out to Ford Escort #2, pulled out my contact and saw a huge rip in it. For those not contact savvy, that means the contact had an early death.<br />
<br />
Now, this may surprise some of you, but I have horrible vision. Jesse likes to play the game "Can Katie See My Expression" if I'm not wearing glasses or contacts. Or, more funly "Can Katie Read That Giant Sign With The Huge Letters What's Wrong With Her She Is Lame". So going with one contact the rest of the afternoon was exciting to say the least. Oh, and they didn't choose me for the jury. But I will always remember (I hate when people say that, "I will always remember ____". And here I am) the look on the lady's face in the front row of potential jurors. They started releasing jurors they didn't want, from left to right, front to back row. They let everybody but one woman out of the front row and I remember when they got to about the third row, she looked back and realized they were letting people go systematically and that she had been selected. Oh, that look of horror on her face. It was beautiful.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I was sent home again last Friday and I got a lot of reading done. Oh, BUT KNITTING NEEDLES WEREN'T ALLOWED! I know, right? I wasn't sure about crochet hooks, but my crochet chops aren't up to making anything more than those <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2010/06/little-less-knit-little-more-crochet.html">flower fridgies</a> I made a while ago. Have I been all over the place with this post? Sorry.<br />
<br />
I have no new pictures to show you, so I will post one of my favorite pictures ever. It's from the <a href="http://www.worldbeardchampionships.com/">World Beard and Mustache Championships</a>, and I want to have an 8x10 print of it made and framed for my house. More details later.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9G-EZ3ZcRNEkHczsdpkTvgQp7J5OffEoCitH7LZ1728hwVrhQ1McCudw_Qt3m9msgGXKEAIN2xOKLE-j23WhZbZi1yFzBzA0mp-frNJrgR8Kz90Yaf5GikgD9J9jzl-b2LxTD/s1600/championships.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9G-EZ3ZcRNEkHczsdpkTvgQp7J5OffEoCitH7LZ1728hwVrhQ1McCudw_Qt3m9msgGXKEAIN2xOKLE-j23WhZbZi1yFzBzA0mp-frNJrgR8Kz90Yaf5GikgD9J9jzl-b2LxTD/s400/championships.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-7162397523971519812011-02-23T18:02:00.000-08:002011-03-21T12:13:49.863-07:00"Get rid of the Seaward." "I'll leave when I'm good and ready."I love that after <a href="http://twelvedaysold.blogspot.com/2011/02/broshay.html">my last post</a> where I wrote the word "broshay" that people in the comments changed it to "brochay", with a c.<br />
<br />
Enter soap box.<br />
<br />
The letter C is a useless letter. Hear me out. It does nothing S and K can't handle. Am I right or am I right? S does not make a hard K sound. K does not make a slithery S sound. Why must C be that way, confusing us with its alphabet wiles? Konfusing us. Komments. Selery. Selebrate. I fear this is a problem with no answer, which saddens me.<br />
<br />
I am saddened.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I have jury duty on Friday.<br />
<br />
Which doesn't help the sadness.<br />
<br />
There is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Across-Universe-Beth-Revis/dp/1595143971/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1298508080&sr=1-1">a book</a> I'm dying to finish and fingerless gloves Jesse is impatiently waiting for me to knit. Perhaps I'll get some quality personal time in at the good old Washington County while fulfilling my civic duty. Unlike <a href="http://www.heiferyung.com/2010/10/being-american-is-not-spectator-sport.html">Dawn in Austin</a>, who I know is very angry I have jury duty when she is just dying to get called in.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br />
</div>Also, very exciting news at <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/ennJ96eM2_oAKY6aobFa7g?feat=directlink">House of Twelvedaysold</a>. Stalker Angie over at <a href="http://stalkerangie.blogspot.com/">I Stalk Knitters</a> is following me! Which I love because I stalk Stalker Angie. It's a perfect match. Or maybe a self destructive one that will end in a restraining order.<br />
<br />
Stay cool while I am off delivering justice.twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-52222457988289429492011-02-16T18:57:00.000-08:002011-02-16T18:57:11.376-08:00The broshay.The mystery follower incident has been solved. It appears <a href="http://littlegreykitten.wordpress.com/">Jenna</a> had to create another account to add me to her google reader, making her like the number 6 follower and also number 41. Let us not forget that I follow my own blog as well.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://canikeepit.typepad.com/we_are_so_going_to_the_do/">The Furry Godmother</a> also started following me, and I am a big fan of hers. Her dog Simone is always looking at me through the computer screen saying, "Please take me away and cuddle me forever. Even though my parents throw me birthday parties and you wouldn't." You guys are great with those parties. Poor Cinnamon just gets me shoving my face in his belly going "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" and then opening a can of Fancy Feast. Conveniently, this is also how I celebrate <a href="http://mrjessebray.blogspot.com/">Jesse</a>'s birthday.<br />
<br />
Susan from <a href="http://susanhenschen.wordpress.com/">Live Lightly, Laugh Often</a> also started following me. Go check out the pretty pictures that are her header and background. Her and her husband are remodeling their house and I want PICTURES. Wow. I just went to her blog and she has a whole tab dedicated to their house. I feel like a tool.<br />
<br />
On to other items of business.<br />
<br />
Once I was at the mall with my sisters and brother-in-law. Now, this is the Pony Village Mall in Coos Bay, Oregon, meaning, this mall is jank. I think JC Penney was able to stay in business, but everything else constantly had a going out of business sign except for the attached Dollar Tree and Army recruitment guys. Not that the Army recruitment guys would have a going out of business sign. They would have more of a "try the Marines next door" type of thing.<br />
<br />
Recently I was at my parents' house and <a href="http://www.notesfromgardenhome.com/">Mom</a> had copies of a questionnaire that each member of the family had filled out back in the Coos Bay days. Do you know where my favorite place to hang out was, on that list?<br />
<br />
Just...guess.<br />
<br />
Wait for it... <br />
<br />
WALMART. Didn't see that coming, did you. Unless you are Jesse, because I have extensively gone over why the Walmart was better than the mall in Coos Bay. The Walmart there was awesome. I'm receding into myself talking about this so I'm going to move forward to the story. <br />
<br />
So hanging out at the Po-nay Village, my sister and her husband said something along the lines of, "Look at that new gym right there. I wonder how much it costs." And I said, "I'll go check." Now, my other sister <a href="http://susieoregon.blogspot.com/">Susan</a> tells me she was there with me when this happened, but I have a bad memory and change facts, so here's my story instead. I was alone.<br />
<br />
As I walked up to the counter, I told myself I would just ask for a broshay that included their prices. A broshay? I asked myself. Yeah... that's right. Broshay. The guy at the counter was a big beefy guy with minimal neckage and wearing ear buds.<br />
<br />
"Could I have a broshay?"<br />
<br />
Blink. "What?"<br />
<br />
"A broshay." <i>Duh.</i><br />
<br />
Blank stare. He points into the mall. "The guy who's normally is here buying some socks right now, so..."<br />
<br />
"... ...Okay, thanks," I said as I rolled my eyes and thought <i>moron.</i><br />
<br />
And then. Oh no. BROCHURE. <i></i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Cinnafluff and Jesse:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuhpk8dW3vhTVX1kTKtotGXmlT9WpsZfIoIWzSBAQXYzB62eMoZxpYmJ6U4JDNK6bgU6Ire5WIpWyHLA0Vvbsr8YzrA256OCuYisYK6J98TAxI_U0vBgml0LGBiI1sngWLSbCq/s1600/just+watching+da+show.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuhpk8dW3vhTVX1kTKtotGXmlT9WpsZfIoIWzSBAQXYzB62eMoZxpYmJ6U4JDNK6bgU6Ire5WIpWyHLA0Vvbsr8YzrA256OCuYisYK6J98TAxI_U0vBgml0LGBiI1sngWLSbCq/s400/just+watching+da+show.JPG" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And happy birthday, Madre! I love you whole bunches. Enjoy the very thoughtful gift certificate I emailed to you.</div>twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-69386175740184893222011-02-07T20:59:00.000-08:002011-02-07T20:59:07.654-08:00Hoarders.Hey, I've reached 41 followers! Interestingly, my 40th follower is Pepe Le Pew, which is somewhat surprising because I didn't know he had opposable thumbs.<br />
<br />
That joke was terrible.<br />
<br />
I'm also puzzled because I can't seem to find who the 41st follower is. Is it normal to be fretting about this?<br />
<br />
Last night we went and picked up the first season of <a href="http://www.aetv.com/hoarders/index.jsp">Hoarders</a> from the library. You would have been embarrassed how excited I was to watch that show. Jesse was all 'ok fine' (insert eye roll) about the whole thing, because he wanted to get started on the <a href="http://longwayround.com/journeys_long-way-down.htm">Long Way Down</a> because it has motorcycles and is manly.<br />
<br />
So, Hoarders starts out with showing images of the houses in question, and then gets to the whole HOARDERS creepy, yet poignant, logo. This clip maybe lasts 20, 25 seconds. Within that 20 or 25 seconds before the title of the first episode, Jesse mentioned that our living room wasn't <i>that </i>messy, and then YES IT WAS and he was already up and grabbing stuff <i>before the title.</i><br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I wanted to watch it as added motivation to clean the house. But I really just wanted to enjoy a nice, relaxing evening on the couch thinking about how wonderful it is not to have a totally scary hoarder house. But there goes Jesse making me put all my clothes away in between watching four (4) episodes of Hoarders.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSPx8NHZEvag4YqpwvsvaLqdJ2a_g5PAQfg4tgEdSqD6h0XUplG6iWzZXIrq8t2z-lT3lvp8i39I7hUOP-BpLwfHEBKeVypWTHj5pvcuvdlvgMT-DBYn3Fj8Cp5_2gXewBd8Pz/s1600/Hoarders-LOGO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSPx8NHZEvag4YqpwvsvaLqdJ2a_g5PAQfg4tgEdSqD6h0XUplG6iWzZXIrq8t2z-lT3lvp8i39I7hUOP-BpLwfHEBKeVypWTHj5pvcuvdlvgMT-DBYn3Fj8Cp5_2gXewBd8Pz/s320/Hoarders-LOGO.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Do you like how pink Jesse's floating head is in that shot? The totally ridiculous thing is that I cut him out of the picture for my own floating head, which hellur, I could have used the same one so we both had that awkward up-the-neck style shot. I mean, do you know how much of my neck I have to cut out of that picture? You just couldn't understand.<br />
<br />
Cinnamon under the covers:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJiSV5GndWFpJs2L_5eYJQAL0htMcDXNEmVHXBHFD9m-T9PsyUM9_In7l9PvDxxK_nyYZ07bCWCyBFi4csKU9STnh1eVoNkjFX50JhshszFeLQpkHU4AKqovVimxXTL2QbzB-/s1600/P1050275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJiSV5GndWFpJs2L_5eYJQAL0htMcDXNEmVHXBHFD9m-T9PsyUM9_In7l9PvDxxK_nyYZ07bCWCyBFi4csKU9STnh1eVoNkjFX50JhshszFeLQpkHU4AKqovVimxXTL2QbzB-/s320/P1050275.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I realized that I've never taken a picture of Cinnamon doing his most favorite thing in the world, which is sleeping under the covers with us. And I love how he eventually scoots up to where his adorable kitty head is on the pillow. It's a hard scene to catch because he won't stay under the covers if we aren't there, and usually I'm indecently dressed in bed and would rather not post those images on the internet for everyone and my mom to see. Because I'm classy like that.<br />
<br />
Okay bye.twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13324394.post-22424394438394499082011-01-07T11:50:00.000-08:002011-01-07T12:06:07.697-08:00Diabeetus and what do you mean I want compliments on my new design?A few months ago we decided to get Jesse a life insurance policy. The insurance company sent someone out to give Jesse a blood test. The test came back showing that his blood sugars were way high.<br />
<br />
And that's how we found out about his<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYNr9eh_N0LpIBg7kEOVmQcxUv_jw-eEXOk4ChyXn_fiAtCm1iTJBOjiApK9Sac8GHQojvURe4REZcGV_9fjKpAGM32CA6iH-eD54apR6DLbF-98QkG9nad2pSMkXablm6txAv/s1600/diabetes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYNr9eh_N0LpIBg7kEOVmQcxUv_jw-eEXOk4ChyXn_fiAtCm1iTJBOjiApK9Sac8GHQojvURe4REZcGV_9fjKpAGM32CA6iH-eD54apR6DLbF-98QkG9nad2pSMkXablm6txAv/s320/diabetes.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Seeing as he's only 28, it probably would have been a long time until we found out about the diabetes unless we tried to get that insurance policy. So, kind of depressing, but at the same time, kind of deblessing. A blessing. I was trying to rhyme, I don't think it worked. And because I'm sure you're dying to know, he's not on any medication as of yet because he's got time to try and keep it under control with diet and exercise. Which, what marriage weight gain? And, here's something depressing. His goal weight? Is twenty pounds less than what I weigh right now. Oh, excuse me, that sound was me suppressing a sob while horking down a candy bar.<br />
<br />
In non-diabetic news, we have Amy, to whom I am the biggest fan, who is having a giveaway for copies of her currently unpublished book. Being a biggest fan has its privileges (meaning I've read the book) and I LOVE this book. LOVE LOVE LOVE. You should try to get a copy. If you want. No pressure. <a href="http://abkeuser.blogspot.com/2011/01/contest-update.html">Here's the link</a>.<br />
<br />
Also, we have two new followers here at the twelvedaysold! Fourth Daughter, author of <a href="http://stylewilderness.blogspot.com/">Style Wilderness</a> is up first. She lives in Australia which we all know means she's fabulous. It also means I have even more questions about Oz that I have to ask NessaKnit because I'm a silly American and needy.<br />
<br />
And then <a href="http://workingwomansguidetodinner.blogspot.com/">Mrs. Tuna</a> has made an appearance! Her blog is hilarious, and includes recipes in every post. Her blog incorporates two of my favorite things: laughing and eating. If only I could get a nap in there and it would be the perfect blog. With cats and puppies. And instead of cooking could we just get Taco Bell?<br />
<br />
And here is rude Cinnamon being rude.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlESO-YzponBVdckRnMJaMSICCpa9OOesH4PJIy4GOwHgjA52serOAA-JMc6djdPRIMRpr9dwb-7ExGMz5CaoAbK3F9htbZJfZ8bTRu0Lyz_6WzWIGcUUDsz-MJsL_5PXt-Pz/s1600/P1050120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlESO-YzponBVdckRnMJaMSICCpa9OOesH4PJIy4GOwHgjA52serOAA-JMc6djdPRIMRpr9dwb-7ExGMz5CaoAbK3F9htbZJfZ8bTRu0Lyz_6WzWIGcUUDsz-MJsL_5PXt-Pz/s320/P1050120.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Jesse had taken off this jacket for like a second in between taking out the trash and who knows what other chore I had him do, and Cinnamon crawled up there and got all indignant on us when we kicked him off. Like he'd been there for hours or something. Start paying rent, cat.<br />
<br />
(Also, please notice the very cute artwork of <a href="http://exocomics.com/">Extra Ordinary</a> as my new header. She is SO CUTE. And her and her man are creepily similar to Jesse and I. <a href="http://exocomics.com/119">Like this comic</a>. I guess I just called myself cute.)twelvedaysoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12997858060469688563noreply@blogger.com23