tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85819034823456712012024-03-18T20:52:32.591-07:00It's better to be absolutely ridiculous...Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-16620741167329432232010-12-30T07:35:00.000-08:002010-12-30T07:35:00.146-08:00Noms: Raviolis<div><div>The bf's mom is Italian and therefore is charged with teaching me <strong>EVERYTHIN</strong>G she knows about Italian cooking each time she comes for a visit. Luckily, I think she enjoys passing on the family secrets and tricks of the trade so we have a good time together. This trip I insisted on learning the <em>art</em> of making handmade raviolis. When I say <em>art</em>, I certainly mean it. Creating each perfect pillow of divine nosh is like creating a masterpiece suitable for any gallery or museum worth mentioning. So basically - you can just call me Picasso! <div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div> </div><div>Raviolis are actually not complicated like I originally thought. However, they take <strong>FOREVER</strong> and you must be meticulous. Here is the step by step guide if you are interested in becoming an artist like myself:</div><div> </div><div><strong>Make the dough.</strong> </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555762232305337490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIRltM4E77nlp0fpZKTUFupkJKEkHKUPrYeIQyn_c9SewkUvtFWCyzbNo8sru_NlLBaYUg_M9DX6Kdz4qREmQCVbCRO6yEAjUeU8KQrn6X3YrEcrjebeyUKxWKwOVo-w33qUxk5baczWEs/s320/pasta2.jpg" />This involves 1 cup of flour for each person eating and 1 egg per cup of flour. We had to add an additional egg because our dough was VERY dry that day. This all depends on the weather, the humidity etc so just make sure your dough a tad sticky and you should be golden. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555762665614173282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vV6_bZDOQWr4ioZVgnlzUsRx97PCNYh7Egv_rayN8lU1b4gMvroHH_o-L-LC57v2I8OOeBYHDoBsySrcJ-rHSbwn1x3HyCqLv2VXB1F6An6L84Y1oX_l5-zrJqRHCv9-hNE9MkS8C5Vl/s320/pasta3.jpg" /><strong>Let the dough rest.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555762546287276450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXMPkn9v0SAOpdDuUE0xQL1r-pwv-uc8QRfAXAm9TMQunpfQn4oObZB5u4XyNqblMdr0SwpsSY7_xyU9_pdaWOsD8_CdyYC5be8_i7BqwQDrCslEAeHQqrABw7ErgNGoyJu0-uYEgBG7k/s320/pasta4.jpg" /></strong>Wrap in plastic wrap to preserve the moisture for about tens minutes. Trust me - your arms will thank you for the break. <div> </div><div><strong>Roll out the dough.</strong></div><strong><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555762084740327010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV_L-HltSlqsN3jlGTscUAM8yoNtbiUKWu8LRtriU2v029qdVoDXbalPIq7AKz67ENLH9E7CZ2rzlzpiPL4q2Uk3rhlhI5dGuGWMOzBeV5sWgeR7Pt8q-6nQF2x4oiuAhk8IE-eKBWiNCa/s320/pasta1.jpg" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555762989719655794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIM29NeNovMoJliLpUelmeXb6Zy27uA1FHNELieJCMqXm0QPiSVXrN232O96kA2iEKHtgMQyz570XHOD9X39lmJgrdWQ4bkL1eI6_WkHjPP1-HHmQ21vC5A85Tmk8q41VpGQPAW-sgRw33/s320/pasta5.jpg" /></strong>This requires a pasta machine with an electric piece (or guns of steel and entirely too much time for someone as popular as myself). Cut small chunks from the rested dough and begin kneading through the machine. My machine had seven settings so you want to go through each setting a few times. Setting one made it longer and flatter, setting two made it even more flat and long, etc, etc until setting seven when we had a full sheet of pasta! <div> </div><div><strong>Create the raviolis.</strong></div><strong><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555764166359974578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinN3CbLPT3J1HS1fK7Na73iKveFgAdhR9IqTLICDsKo8LJ0orPeItmrawqPX4ftCXATjfOqGJVkXVOfaB_0Ocg6Dvgu_nVCnZv9vBo8WWdaaC4pQ-06vv8TMOvpudxaoRlMT9wdgqRn5iA/s320/pasta7.jpg" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555764380750784690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82XNxXSJIRDp9Vu8jJ8m9K1NnLszZX-NkoCi8Lva4UIC1w9R8r_FFnrwMTpj20PiftXn89VzeHE3cZg9RlytSyBzB14Z9yBKv1cFOkqY7jM_ksNlpLUK7PV3-hekyege4FAeNcOagSKtA/s320/pasta8.jpg" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555764669671267266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFGRXUCts4iXpkzb6wc-aNaho1kWm5a33yKoRQRiaAaJev4ByP7Qb1rcdbSvQyeuz83S3qKwQWVN4niiQ01DcqMPi37V0PqzolCUtxov9bgc7Evid98vxMLV15tmvw3Ts3P_Cu6WVKZYqh/s320/pasta9.jpg" /></strong> Use your ravioli pan (they have stamps too) and begin by laying one sheet of dough on the bottom. Then, stuff the dough with your filling (we used butternut squash, but you can use whatever filling you like) and topped the filling with another sheet of dough.<br /><div> </div><div><strong>Seal the raviolis.</strong></div><strong><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555765121500762898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGsrvMMOBFYlsoZA_sRH4MEBw4b2YVEJEPnptxtUscBa5L4iYjnRf1QITWo41fUy1oZmPn80e-AL6cYz3AAaHzXBrqdNyatZkoULI6LN0S9sGwDGl8aeh6o-XCsGOlWt2UKiN6ScLlwP9/s320/pasta10.jpg" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555765406486380114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBc_1WstadG29bTyGf3bGgXLhLGedfUaDA3GrjakLO-TFfQY20Gd2aXDx8cvjhKp_rGgwi3cfXfpavZiNrwVeOcxTEmnn9z6exEOAPFROxg3f9ceWVGyYldU3-6OnQEelDGBBG3YQCBIr6/s320/pasta6.jpg" /></strong>Use the tiny rolling pin that came with your pan to seal the raviolis. Don't be afraid to use some force. You want to ensure each ravioli is seal tightly! Then, pop them out!<br /><br /><div><strong>Set out to dry.</strong></div><strong><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555765725788721186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMUotDxEAi3n6BlA4KXIaEQBoy8yyL4Jhy0SEJS_7LJTvOOzwf0GKMn0XVjQQEhKrBZwFXbUf2LLUkCB-q4Kjp4nyJrPuq4-36XvgFSHGuwKoVOzoGhEXCxNuxQkpgiXhyphenhyphenGI4cNmi-NCCg/s320/pasta12.jpg" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555766152474438354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPE91cCov18u-3BvsuTF7vzdp1vm-QHrYA6UVWzyukGIrMipGmMhgOPEi-sJWz24yw444Yye7ha7-OXp1Y6_WawLq1Po8ysOZSAYQdhKCzdwj29HlzEsxmMeiRGwlnBXdod-a-O6OVHitp/s320/pasta13.jpg" /></strong>Flour the raviolis and place on a pan to dry. We let ours dry over night since we weren't eating them until the next day; however, I am sure you could eat the same day. You will have to shmagoogle that one on your own kids.<br /><div> </div><div><strong>Cook.Serve.Accept adoration and applause.Instruct all to address you by your official title, "Chef Betty Croker Picasso."</strong></div><strong><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555766451792182690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicH7NsclBFIotyWY4M5QDR6utUj_3FHwjh9cgos5L_rXsNQVMREE0AtsKYhsop_sfLsjx_Mpv4eSRCyTZ_uaE-tAr72F25y4hlbFsA6zzd90aVAbDWbioKiStYjffWcG4IuA4z1YZkyyAz/s320/pasta11.jpg" /></strong> <div>After bringing the water to a boil, we cooked the raviolis for three minutes and topped with a delish butter sage sauce. </div><div> </div><div>Now that I am a pro, I am excited to attempt more fillings. I need to find the best of the best out there and experiment. I think I will make a million one day and freeze them for last minute dinners. What is your favorite ravioli filling?<br /><br /><em>Chef Betty Croker Picasso</em> out!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-36519482613152120432010-12-27T13:03:00.000-08:002010-12-27T13:42:21.095-08:00Travel Tips: Oktoberfest<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dnmTG2j6mxLJAPteqw0vo4_3nwYGCMsKPH9wwEg6PJgtkqXnI6Ck0Om69QKut0U8Iv-HIuZvFmm2OBDBjq5GJqKXzsgs_-yIszLwIJTIo-19lSZ-2zGoIScvpE8LsTmWaZp6513ooyV9/s1600/munich.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 276px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555475724945263522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dnmTG2j6mxLJAPteqw0vo4_3nwYGCMsKPH9wwEg6PJgtkqXnI6Ck0Om69QKut0U8Iv-HIuZvFmm2OBDBjq5GJqKXzsgs_-yIszLwIJTIo-19lSZ-2zGoIScvpE8LsTmWaZp6513ooyV9/s320/munich.jpg" /></a> The bf and I took a quick trip to Munich in September for a little festival you might have heard of - <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oktoberfest">OKTOBERFEST! </a>I know, first thing you are thinking is, "umm aren't you a month early?" No my dear friends, Oktoberfest actually takes place in September. A quick history lesson for those of you less booze inclined: the very first Oktoberfest was actually the best wedding reception ever held in honor of the marriage of Crown Prince Ludwig and Princess Therese. The reception was such a hit that the event was held again the following year and so on. Traditionally, the festival last either 17 or 18 days leading up to the first Sunday in October. This year was the 200th anniversary of the world's largest festival which annually attracts over five million guests. Try to imagine the biggest state fair ever in combination with the largest beer tasting in history. You have Oktoberfest! The set up itself is a large section of the city center with 14 beer tents. The guests typically wear the traditional German lederhosen and dirndl. Here are a few tricks of the trade to make your next journey a success: <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555475925588624706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDLLhAJHACge2krjhFx-fqI5wAnXaYb57AhLQu4pH5asDDckgdfYlRsAG0aRH9o1r6viGIlDEzDiM2VE1IdrDOAnuaTjGGjZg-tMxEYtPuW-UrZnq-MadU2ElzRq2XjVDIGSLQB0SyIqHo/s320/pic1.jpeg" />1. <strong>Look the part.</strong> The bf and I arrived in Munich sporting our typical travel ensemble of jeans and sweater. Turns out we are the ones who looked ridiculous! Take some time to find some <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lederhosen">lederhosen</a> or a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dirndl">dirndl</a>. It is worth the bucks to look like a local. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555477167630139138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht0As1Yg7QuAFdPIgJta-luKWPRDtnQRxtSnyBuVYyK4MIsuF4yOG9hqhWHJ0twq4rsdXk6dk5hDdC76QOHE1fZP4tl5DunPbQdwfAfQWCk7KDPypZ4TX7V4ADDAXm8iWDACCoXIRfCTJg/s320/pic5.jpg" /><br />2. <strong>Learn how to order beer <a href="http://translate.google.com/#">in German</a>.</strong> Thankfully, the bf did this VERY well and we were served post haste!<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555477074486198242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwbYeIKrwU5ewphxIcQSWS8qHh4_ooL_AxzkHRePlxwG6Va4ggm4qDXxEDKdLLV5KFGgjS1YajXzeQ6r_s2Dj5K7AQy8MIEAY0CwN0sxawxA9Ja25p_5j511mNCT1qUbAh9UkMdDZKqJ4l/s320/pic3.jpg" /><br />3. <strong>Make reservations at the beer tents NOW!</strong> We had no idea that Oktoberfest is basically the Oscars minus the celebs and plus a few mean German ladies. We were lucky enough to finagle our way into THREE beer tents and even ended up SOMEHOW in the famous Hofbrau House at the end of the night. However, we were VERY lucky. Make reservations now for your favorite brewhouse to ensure you get prime seating a at least one stein of the magical deliciousness. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555477115366618978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIsN0ICguMdbLq1UvVZLnTLwzCk39AhDcM3HXLUxT00ae18in0Ew4DwcT-XD1KVESuO-_muDaPZps_zBRqqAYQbRtzyX_DeCMImN9vuV9A5cTNO_XwxUh5m4J4ljT4TU5DCO56fcQFcyr/s320/pic4.jpg" />4. <strong>Hydrate.</strong> The beers in Germany are serious. The beers in Germany are huge. I don't care if you won every beer guzzling competition at your frat house. You are not prepared for this. Make sure you take a time out between steins to gulp some good ole H2O. You can thank me later. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555476150701736002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gf3qYIpGJq7Tbcf75yij-xLhN4itr-u64AHlCZDrkcJX6GqfbkPCI1vx6c9oGDi5JQvRiWQGIiNKvA2zKFM0iXS-2UXXOJdE2lEEdKFBESIFdOaSPpq-rllV6o8fjAhaixLHj2-D9WuF/s320/pic2.jpg" /> <div>5. <strong>ENJOY.</strong> This was hands down one of the most fun times we have had in Europe so far. It is impossible not to enjoy yourself once you are inside one of the famous tents. Grab a beer, eat a pretzel, make new friends and most importantly don't forget to PROST!<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 253px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555477205280301058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHaiEQCqSKaQRzBfki9BMuY_Y3MEASeIXDUBJVlbC-lNH9tQCygpVlYt9aF2Jr5W-TBZOGVJgezQiHtr7CxaDk8tfo0O665b-yzYTjPtIl1tJro7jIhKbYW3DYsWt60f_kow-5u2QVRfil/s320/pic6.jpg" /></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-65329417922799434472010-12-23T10:55:00.000-08:002010-12-23T11:07:21.650-08:00Boogie Woogie: Holiday PlaylistIn all walks of life, there are different types of people. There happen to be flip flop people and non flip flop people. There are cargo short wearing frat boys and die hard jean hipsters. And of course, there are holiday music people and grinches - I mean non holiday music people. I, of course, happen to fall into the holiday music people category. The first day after Thanksgiving when I am in Atlanta I immediately preset my radios to <a href="http://b985.com/">98.5</a> for all holiday all the time. <em><strong>Sigh - it is so good!</strong></em> I live in the South and for the most part we don't get snow. So, I have to supplement my holiday atmosphere by adding over the top obsessions like holiday music. I literally do not listen to ANYTHING else from Thanksgiving to New Years Eve. It makes my heart happy and annoys the crap out of some of my favorite men i.e. the bf and the daddy dearest. WHAT could be better than that?! A few of my favorites for your consideration.<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yXQViqx6GMY?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yXQViqx6GMY?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wKj92352UAE?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wKj92352UAE?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nzXKWKaxt3c?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nzXKWKaxt3c?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ihW56Xa3XGQ?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ihW56Xa3XGQ?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/StgL-gGdOzI?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/StgL-gGdOzI?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br />What is your favorite holiday song?Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-70375450224237431992010-12-20T06:01:00.000-08:002010-12-20T06:06:55.165-08:00Words of Wisdom...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg731-MSR6W_K9X2bQ-19fV8yNpCc6wx0SVHftlxlP7XbRrxiKnGXTmPwL2XfOKuAvQuLQzUYVki1cL5E3kgcwmVhbhq1efCLdEGvzgl-q5ig0WnkcSOKVo2Hpx2kPCM5m64_w2f3JTVMUR/s1600/paris+is+always+a+good+idea.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 396px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 391px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552764501155133170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg731-MSR6W_K9X2bQ-19fV8yNpCc6wx0SVHftlxlP7XbRrxiKnGXTmPwL2XfOKuAvQuLQzUYVki1cL5E3kgcwmVhbhq1efCLdEGvzgl-q5ig0WnkcSOKVo2Hpx2kPCM5m64_w2f3JTVMUR/s320/paris+is+always+a+good+idea.jpg" /></a> I couldn't agree more. Eight more days and I am on my way! Now all I have to do is get through the work week sans wingwoman, purchase one final Christmas gift, cook the best food ever, spend time with the family, take a million pictures annnnnnnd PACK! I just put my suitcase away YESTERDAY and already need to pull it back out. Life is tough my friends.<br /><div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-53258030162670743432010-12-14T05:44:00.001-08:002010-12-14T05:45:52.596-08:00Words of Wisdom...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWTgIsi8QKIEJfLEyEDT8RDdkw9R89rOl86jtz5HXokpqXBwZNETiPGj7U_R1fsiKwIWA3ufjx3C3a9OLcoHoaXD4kgGbIm7W6XC_xtwuT5aAmCm8JzrJBJvD4VIVOiNv7n4lULqnC5vba/s1600/wonder+years.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 429px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550533400081741426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWTgIsi8QKIEJfLEyEDT8RDdkw9R89rOl86jtz5HXokpqXBwZNETiPGj7U_R1fsiKwIWA3ufjx3C3a9OLcoHoaXD4kgGbIm7W6XC_xtwuT5aAmCm8JzrJBJvD4VIVOiNv7n4lULqnC5vba/s320/wonder+years.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-54158470772466045612010-11-29T05:26:00.000-08:002010-11-29T05:59:34.710-08:00Brilliant Ideas by Me: Airplane travel<div align="left">Every summer when I was younger, I went to the beach with my mom. I loved our trips and many included my favorite Aunt Pam or one of my mom's other fabulous friends. We always had the best times. I miss those days. I am sure you can remember from your beach vacas the tiny shower that you were <em>requested</em> to use before entering the pool after frolicking beach side all day. Well, I never used those. Ever. I was <em><strong>that</strong></em> kid (or early twenty year old, but details details) who was sand-ridden head to toe and would bypass the line for the cold shower and jump into the deep end of the resort pool. I would bob to the surface refreshed and clean and laugh at all those silly folks for where held down by the man waiting in line. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544968250998583730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_yCh1712b6LMsRZvA_pkLZHACqhuFOG4PU9tYBPNoMz10PnOcjabG4j3Y9Yyhpoi_UDZMquyw0yjwpVHy_zv2n9j1iD443VPjCARmYxpmJgukwbs633gHrVlB0qQFtMSKlABo0dgX9uP/s320/beach+shower.jpg" /></div><div align="left">I think airplanes should have a version of that tiny cold shower nowadays. On my recent nine hour flight home from Holiday abroad, I had the nasty pleasure to sit next to a stinky, stinky man. What happened to common courtesy?! I mean, do some people really not know what deoderent is? After about two hours of learning to breathe through my mouth or turning my entire face the the opposite side for a moment of peace while engaging a severe neck cramp, I was over it! I made up my mind to nicely say something to said cohabitant of my general air space. Well, to my shock as I turned to the sleeping beauty I noticed that <strong>SOMEHOW</strong> he had ninja unbuttoned his entire shirt AND belt. ICK! The smell was penetrating the final clean pieces of air and now it was at high speed since all barriers had been demolished. Oh and he decided to take full custody of the shared armrest AND fall into my property from time to time for the remainder of the flight. 34,000 feet above ground and not one ounce of fresh, clean air. Puke. Gag. I literally sucked up the rest of the nine hour flight and landed safely home. I booked it off that plane faster than Devon Sawa in Final Destination. </div><div align="center"> </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 229px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544970703481492178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFXNxRbSptR6GvW-iEPlzbJ9wyAB367KHz5lJMYj958mEEkh0cvRHWYms-QhVlMfZIuWKWP4U6EmxadKalNJBmnzS3MsAoNvUtjpd6IajsTlUtrv0oMfUBygtjlXVn0nmgMYh23fxK0K3/s320/devon+sawa.jpg" /> <p align="center"><em>You're welcome for the late 90s reference. </em><br /></p><br /><br />So my friends, my point is: Maybe if the airlines would invent a tiny shower to defunk the funky preboarding we all could enjoy our biscoff cookies and tiny sodas in peace. And no, next beach vaca I will not use the tiny cold shower before jumping cannon ball style into the deep end. If FunkMaster Flex can torture me for nine hours, the rest of the fancy shmancy beach resort can deal with my sandy feet.Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-70781666324986452352010-11-22T05:45:00.000-08:002010-11-22T06:14:21.274-08:00Frisk me freely boys!Recently there has been an uproar regarding the TSA's new scanning tool at the airports. I realize there is a larger underlying reason to be upset about this - mainly as pointed out by the bf that, "all this stuff does is increasingly subject normal travellers to suspicion under the guise of telling them that its keeping them safe which is not particularly making a difference either way or what standard security would do. What they need to be doing is investing more money into intelligence to monitor suspicious people instead of scanning every one's body." I totally agree. We should be investing more efforts where the problem is starting - not where the problem is ending up. However, with that being said, if I need to be frisked, felt up or scanned to get <a href="http://www.lonelyplanet.com/italy/venice/images/grand-canal-venice$18820-30#content">here</a> in two days...SO BE IT.<br /><div></div><br /><div>Perhaps upon my return, I can take a more serious look at this issue. Until then, FRISK ME FREELY!<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 262px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542376827950003330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYzlKVgQFZTSz7UzOBZkYPE2eX0oeLzeGW105XRM02viDhJvBDvyWZ9V7X5d4bYG65cvRIhQIZ2_-kbyqX-3NbLDIjvwBNhCrGPVUZ-wY2lVqeo7cgypzzaJ5oUNwBsi8hr9Xdr8lZKvBQ/s320/marilyn.jpg" /></div><br /><div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-44081467026846824282010-11-16T08:00:00.000-08:002010-11-16T08:00:03.248-08:00Words of Wisdom...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr27ZhyphenhyphenMa4lYlB136YGyahsogB5RvIfyFZ8eTrgm_Nd1I82Q8iz2cWpp9lnj_tq06TZf81ul8ROCsXKBa6ex4gxsMz0HRn_zA7JBQzFPLIUshC3skJR_ncfHx0t7DPa6AEmkAHYzdNau7w/s1600/pooh.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 424px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 458px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538674492239217954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr27ZhyphenhyphenMa4lYlB136YGyahsogB5RvIfyFZ8eTrgm_Nd1I82Q8iz2cWpp9lnj_tq06TZf81ul8ROCsXKBa6ex4gxsMz0HRn_zA7JBQzFPLIUshC3skJR_ncfHx0t7DPa6AEmkAHYzdNau7w/s320/pooh.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-78566170927533350462010-11-13T08:00:00.000-08:002010-11-13T08:00:06.791-08:00ReDiscovery: The Public LibraryWhen is the last time you went to a library? No, not the college library. Speaking of, our college library was one in the same as the community bomb shelter having six floors below ground. I remember kids would crawl out of the stacks and be blinded by light when finally reappearing to the world after five long days of finals. Oh and the exterior was equally unappealing boasting an interesting design that I could only equate with golden suction cups. <em>I digress...</em><br /><div></div><br /><div>The last time I was a public library must have been years ago...I am talking elementary school. So I realize that this sounds completely of the wall, but I recently have begun a relationship with the <a href="http://www.af.public.lib.ga.us/">Atlanta Fulton County Public Library</a>. Did you know...IT IS FREE! Well, taxes and whatnot, but that is just details. I sauntered into my branch of the Atlanta Fulton County Public Library last Saturday with my unimpressed bf in tow. You see he is in grad school and therefore gets a fancy library at his university. Well, little ole me had to settle for what the county provided. I certainly wasn't impressed by the library itself. Computers that resembled large boxes, fluorescent lighting, a strange lingering mildew smell...I could go on, but I chose to look at the positive. Millions and millions (<em>ok thousands?</em>) of <strong>FREE</strong> books. I signed up for my brand spanking new library card proudly while Daniel sighed. I think he was jealous and my shinny new card. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538667397450233442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnohDgWtC4qL_Zo2QqXFl0Q3HxB1Zr2FVJHfNu1u0ndN4rcPtfVFC6ecORhcNy3W0TQIs3sZnz9vUM8QP1u2MnTexNgHRo0BGdPMYigNRnVwxxtoE5g1pBWwDd4GX5tshFAWdzchD-LdbI/s320/library.jpg" />After passing the rigorous screening process (verifying my address) and receiving my card, I was off. I popped into the first aisle I saw which turned out to be the World War II section. I poured over the titles not sure which to select for my first time. It was a big decision. I finally settled on <em>Sisterhood of Spies, Women of the OSS</em> and <em>Miss You: the World War II letters of Barbara Wooddall Taylor and Charles E. Taylor</em>.<br /><div></div><br /><div>I spent the rest of the day curled up with a hot latte and a warm pup reading the adventures of the women spies of World War II. Now, while I ponder a career move into international espionage I would suggest YOU go explore the library near you. Seriously, go. Gobble up the first books you find and see what adventures you can stumble upon. </div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-14097509988554944272010-11-10T08:00:00.000-08:002010-11-10T08:00:08.446-08:00Wiki Fact: Daylight Savings Time SucksI am not sure why on earth anyone would spend tens of thousands of dollars on college anymore when everything you will ever need to know can be found on wikipedia.com. For example: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daylight_saving_time">daylight savings time. </a><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537306311645834898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzEeuvcjFsX2oO3yxaYj-8uQniayfwS8I1rQV1nn-zkttJnVM-0qjTrsEpZj0gwx7Ug4IYLY8EKH8ZSYWioJChKdsXL19-p1GV-iOr1YekPTUdVE6uyhmYU3IFWH0fDt0NRh_Xb4_JhtXz/s320/daylight-savings-time.jpg" /><br /><div></div><br /><div>A common fact that you might not be aware of is my ongoing hatred for daylight savings time: fall version. I hate hate hate falling back an hour. I know, I know...most people love that extra hour of sweet slumber; however, I would glady sacrifice those tender 60 minutes for endless sunlight at the end of along work day. There is nothing worse than going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark. Sigh...until April...</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-21091306808511629262010-11-08T08:00:00.000-08:002010-11-08T08:00:01.056-08:00Words of Wisdom...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimbDbkWzvnO7NfEa0jMabOVqidlM5oh7C-5IwVM2Av7ppckYvlrV_yGx92f4DsVlsrG_NXOOfuSmUoVCSqY2pEEfflXKHYoJhUwlIu-MAq10WY64NoeulYDYXwwnDI7in3Hriw_EQJT6rC/s1600/mark+twain.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 360px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 358px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536171061703047218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimbDbkWzvnO7NfEa0jMabOVqidlM5oh7C-5IwVM2Av7ppckYvlrV_yGx92f4DsVlsrG_NXOOfuSmUoVCSqY2pEEfflXKHYoJhUwlIu-MAq10WY64NoeulYDYXwwnDI7in3Hriw_EQJT6rC/s320/mark+twain.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-35784262047444394042010-11-06T11:00:00.000-07:002010-11-06T11:00:02.432-07:00Boogie WoogieDo you ever feel like you are not as cool as you used to be? You see "kids" (who are probably only 22 when you are 26) running around wearing really tight pants or spinning on their new iPads and think to yourself - dumb kids! Clearly, I never have that problem; however, I find this song hilarious and amazing all at once.<br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>Enjoy! </div><br /><br /><div></div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ON1eRJtoOrg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 402px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 284px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536164083029762818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-j_iEmL4FPIyFGuZOiiQap3fWVISlE3voAhMNNOhZDVo_DSwyj7_f9ZBXjFnHEDIuRLBfGuob3NAlNns8NSXFuMHSnH5Y7Tp4lzF7bSorCM-nzWNddFUhc9wR3p-TjyBbJmB0a7WqsVz/s320/LDC+Soundsystem_Losing+my+edge.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-51499261488493443272010-11-05T06:36:00.000-07:002010-11-05T13:41:54.044-07:00Words of Wisdom...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJVnMWQiS9txhkiOfn0mvUi606dhvFzLR8qrLDCe6g8pPs-jPIW3gBnjoUqpExZwx4EE8yBXPFmldrRCTct5XyFQ1pslXonD7f7GN3LqA9whgYcPaykvA7zLQHa20JlhtGTAh_3K9lyF-/s1600/quotes.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 194px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536064984228578162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJVnMWQiS9txhkiOfn0mvUi606dhvFzLR8qrLDCe6g8pPs-jPIW3gBnjoUqpExZwx4EE8yBXPFmldrRCTct5XyFQ1pslXonD7f7GN3LqA9whgYcPaykvA7zLQHa20JlhtGTAh_3K9lyF-/s320/quotes.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7bqXrpYmuGbpPXpBK0kpQCQGhMmPMbe9G6-TAxr0ARt0dJypKcIlflGc6OGE_FwyZCqolzxhhl5Pg1yN-GHRh6plGctW-5PI4tUaQTBuVWM3sI5cCpQ45yVMKCda0Su4EDjMEJyMIc_eA/s1600/quotes.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div></div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-47783124253185258392010-07-14T13:13:00.000-07:002010-07-14T13:16:17.829-07:00Jesus Christ<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Aic73YPcp5WDTiHcvT7W20CLPrNyssfhykOlXSwweodkIFYkMzk78FTzoj8xhXtadIO8ZDX3eQNLwSH2xkVexZPNFss0Ad2A7Mw9rLDy-7aIBvll3Axdr83g4CtYC99p50TH5PoiyDo8/s1600/jesus-christ-head-c10078816.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493858258368284466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 255px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Aic73YPcp5WDTiHcvT7W20CLPrNyssfhykOlXSwweodkIFYkMzk78FTzoj8xhXtadIO8ZDX3eQNLwSH2xkVexZPNFss0Ad2A7Mw9rLDy-7aIBvll3Axdr83g4CtYC99p50TH5PoiyDo8/s320/jesus-christ-head-c10078816.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Drowning in my immense boredom earlier this afternoon, I took to the blogosphere for pure entertainment or at least a slice of mind numbing trickery that would get me to that oh so magical five o’clock. I love going to blogger.com and just clicking on something random to start reading. From there, I simply make my way through the mess of template and find the oh so joyous ‘next blog’ button. Typically, this leads me on an interesting adventure where I could happen to find something worth subscribing to in attempts to add a bit more substance to my Google Reader. Today that did not happen. Instead, I somehow ended up in a never ending circle of biblical proportion – literally. Each blog I visited was centered on the bible. Very strange since usually I click from babies to butchery in one fell swoop.<br /><br />I started with <a href="http://drmacdonald.blogspot.com/?expref=next-blog">Bob’s Log</a>. The title was catchy enough to grab my eye and I was hoping for something racy! Bob spends his day analyzing and translating Psalms. Next.<br />Then, I came across <a href="http://pastor-taylor.blogspot.com/?expref=next-blog">Between Sundays</a>. I don’t know what this person talks about, but the entry had a huge picture of jesus and their twitter account is linked to the blog which read, “Night one of VBS was terrific.” Next.<br />After that, I discovered <a href="http://susan2956.blogspot.com/?expref=next-blog">Forever His</a>. The subtitle to this blog says, “I have summoned you by name. You are mine.” Isaiah 43:1. Unless Isaiah is Dr. Burke with all that hotness, minus the homophobic slurs, then no merci. Next.<br />Finally, I clicked once more in hopes of finding something actually worth reading and I found <a href="http://misschrysti.blogspot.com/?expref=next-blog">Falling into Grace</a>. NOPE. NO THANKS. DONE.<br /><br />I think there are two possible things one would think from this very odd occurrence today. One, maybe I need god in my life. Maybe this is his way of telling me, “hey, hey you down there! Pay attention and get on board with my whole jesus thing.” Two, I should start my own cult. I have witnessed the power of religion today and find it fascinating. I can only imagine what I am capable of if I start now. Maybe this time next year there could be four blogs about little ole me :) I mean, hey, I do have nine followers! </div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-64621294652248783092010-06-08T11:15:00.000-07:002010-06-08T11:22:03.171-07:00Free cookies anyone?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIULEaM1Nd3qveVtP95EaQz48KOfBqzlJpjgToExt9mLyqQdM-nfn8uVZVfzMwQFFJ7kFskHFenX6H-6PK3oOljRg-MnQxVjpR2pPkYywIV_k-bB-L6LHlwmdGA8eWt7AdgrI7HZGfCEtg/s1600/chocolate-chip-cookies.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480469392422120114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIULEaM1Nd3qveVtP95EaQz48KOfBqzlJpjgToExt9mLyqQdM-nfn8uVZVfzMwQFFJ7kFskHFenX6H-6PK3oOljRg-MnQxVjpR2pPkYywIV_k-bB-L6LHlwmdGA8eWt7AdgrI7HZGfCEtg/s320/chocolate-chip-cookies.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Everyone knows the easiest way to get more people to show up somewhere is to offer free stuff. An even <em><strong>better</strong></em> way to to get more people to show up somewhere is to offer free food. Yes, I take bribes and I prefer calories. Take note. In high school the Fellowship Christan Athletes (FCA) met each Friday in the school auditorium to make themselves feel superior to everyone and pay penance for doing the dirty and drugs the previous weekend, I mean, praise god. I also would attend FCA meetings...for the free chicken biscuits :) In college, I only attended the National Society of Colliegete Scholors meetings because they offered free pizza (no wonder I decided to become president of NSCS) nom nom nom. Now, I work in an industry where thousands of people plan their Tuesday based on who is serving the best free lunch. So for the most part these organizations offer up the goods with getting little in return. That doesn't seem very fair. Luckily, I have just the ticket of a mutually beneficial relationship to share. <strong>Who wants free cookies?! </strong>Read on...<br /><br />You are welcome to a smorgasbord of decedent, sugar filled cookies for just one hour of your time! I know, amazing. And what does the other party get from me you ask? Well, they get to your blood. <strong>MUUUUWAAHAHAHAH</strong>! No no no, you are not getting throated by Rob Pattison or the hot bad vamp from True Blood. You are getting pricked by a lovely lady or gentleman in a white coat dawning a smile and plastic gloves. We are talking blood donation kids and it is time to spread the word. I am the only person I know who regularly gives blood and I think more people should be like me...haha. Seriously though, donating blood takes less that one hour, it saves three lives each time and you get <strong><em>FREE COOKIES!!!</em></strong> My blood donation center even offers samoas...year round. You tell me where I can find a samoa in July! Ok, so you are scared of needles? You don't like blood? Waaaa waaa waaa... get over it. It seriously is a prick that hurts <strong>LESS </strong>than biting your own tongue <strong>AND</strong> for literally half a second. I don't like blood either. So the lovely nurses kindly drape a cloth over my oh so yummy veins so I don't have to see a thing. And all this takes place while I am watching my favorite food network show during my lunch break. After my life saving is complete, I am rewarded with my free cookies. Oh and they offer you juiced too!<br /><br />I think everyone reading this blog (yes, all 8 of you including you mom) should make a commitment to at least try giving blood this month. I mean, worst comes to worst, you freak out and they will probably still give you a cookie. Maybe not a samoa though fyi. To find a blood donation center near you click <a href="http://www.redcross.org/portal/site/en/menuitem.d8aaecf214c576bf971e4cfe43181aa0/?vgnextoid=d0061a53f1c37110VgnVCM1000003481a10aRCRD">here</a>.<br /><br />Now, run along kiddos and spread the word about how to get free cookies. You never know whose life you could save :) </div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-50876242126189053172010-05-28T08:14:00.000-07:002010-05-28T08:16:21.369-07:00Boys vs. GirlsFor anyone that knows me very well, you know that I see things in life as very black and white. I know, there are a million shades of grey in our world, as there should be, but for me I like to bottom line things as much as possible. My best girl friends know all too well that I particularly like to black and white things when it comes to guys. He didn’t text you back? He doesn’t like you. He doesn’t want to meet your family? He doesn’t like you. He only calls you after 10pm or 4 beers? He doesn’t like you. AND even MORE importantly, he doesn’t text you back, he doesn’t want to meet your fam, he only calls late at night after drinking…BE DONE! You deserve better. Do not give the time of day to someone who doesn’t treat you absolutely ridiculously amazing. Period. If you do, then you are pathetic and desperate and clearly are not even remotely ready to make someone else happy let alone yourself. There it is.<br /><br />So, while I sit on my high horse and preach my black and white religion to all my girl friends and even to myself when I was dating, I have seemed to miss an important point. I find it unacceptable for boys to treat me or my girl friends remotely subpar, but I have allowed my girlfriends to treat me subpar. A recent conversation had my friend shoving, thankfully, my black and white mindset right back into my face saying: it's not that black and white with your girlfriends. After a moment of thought, I replied: maybe it should be. It got me thinking…<br /><br />Why do I let ANYONE treat me in any way I am not happy with? That doesn’t seem to mesh well with my whole black and white scheme I have going. Why do I feel like I should give chance after chance to someone I am close with when I wouldn’t give it to others I barely know? Shouldn’t the people who I am “close with” treat me BETTER than someone I hardly know since they should care about me? They should want to treat me as best they can since, in theory, they are my friend. So, why am I continuing to let a friend treat me poorly when I would never tolerate such behavior from a stranger? I don’t know.<br /><br />Maybe, I give more chances to friends because we have history. We share memories. We have cried together in hardship and laughed through life when it seemed ever so hard. Maybe I give more chances because I remember those great times and I want them back again so badly it hurts. I hold onto the hope of old times being reincarnated into something new and different and maybe even wonderful.<br /><br />My point is this: how long do you let a friend treat you poorly before you lose all hope and just move on? Can you really ever do that? Or because you share this history, this lifetime, do you hold onto hope that one day you might be able to grab a bagel one morning like old times?<br /><br />I guess it comes down to that hope. Hope is a funny thing. I think hope is something I cannot control. It is there and then one day it isn’t. So maybe the answer is this: You hold on tight to that hope as long as you can and then one day that hope is just gone. And then maybe it won’t hurt. Maybe then you won’t be sad. Maybe losing hope doesn’t have to be a loss at all. Maybe losing hope creates a new beginning.Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-71729870260793808382010-05-26T08:31:00.000-07:002010-05-26T08:52:52.878-07:00Head in the clouds<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>Yesterday was gorgeous. Mother Nature has recently proven to be quite the bitch; however, yesterday she somewhat redeemed herself. She still has a long way to go so don't go getting all team Mother Nature yet. The clouds in Atlanta yesterday were outrageous. They looked like they were out of a cartoon - white puff magical softness everywhere my eyes could see. I know, what's the big to do about clouds crazy? I am telling you, they were outstanding. I have never seen so many dollops of pure white perfection throughout the oh so unnaturally blue Atlanta skyline that normally tends to appear dismal on most hazy days. The perfect storm of cotton on water made the sky to.die.for. Clearly, I headed straight to the park with the fam in tow to absorb every bit deliciousness. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475602571577125234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDuJQYI1zuOASD3e8o1mIJCEmGKlHS5rW_JmtPW_6wNQsetnp3qFjltt19T_RWAKTif0qiq8iIhi57-t_SiTt29Y5-XVZpZJF8LNvSXcNzK-UO7rjHmjXES4Q4yak3lx6Lgjk7LPK5bOd9/s320/IMG_3955.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475602743305764274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKSg_Z20nReaYfh5MJpeZygnxHyO9TnhBo9GopqoPALbwFxMZ68fWGQphHR4wosLuR8K53gueKjKOEOAnrVWMcPk6_f0MoVsUMMo7UbvagAQh_sIVtKnqSoPde4dlWgNpP77Ok33MBN3ZW/s320/IMG_3957.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475602043666419266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8uSMWQ2yassV352Z4AHzyWnjKB4iwMezOkDF8DueyXVN6Dx8fhNGZQ11Xx7qxQevHXUvs7esgJXVP1RU8Py41uWe5mHwGkpG8bkyDpH5oI8LyCYzHPXnCvTxIXDny0wmVCAxU9Itqkt2/s320/IMG_3950.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475602931558491234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3A6DH_zPicqwyj8v86pZPLFHzjwNPMWE3ix1Lpp-LOXBZFQ9oK6Ny1bpab4Y04q_8LwVRgFF7UEHGUGPCDOJrbOpPrmStOIYf_h4310v0KC3EGtfx5DrVQ1o5KgSsaBB_2Th5UHJKMNK/s320/IMG_3959.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475603092826076098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMQ4O2ztJIJpvQp5iAkJ7cFbPJ2i7cRJKh5AmPx7_Wd_AIvx4iP81xURNziI-bkEKpE8XkHNKAx2-wbXdCNvONejZWbXyjH6fTSnMYahFb9OpoteM-paNtgDDy4zYNFj1ajMN1K6AZCJ3/s320/IMG_3961.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475603314603927586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg11ZwT3WaIkh89PdtFMF-HTdBLpTJstNvFgmQpycFuOTMy1O-LSIfk3styuZXY-3v3zH97Zoa-xccWjWfWVdakWQtZcpqvPuTbtSsoyFdMqL5ufCciAfj-d0kT469KCMjrz65Axf34M0wh/s320/IMG_3962.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475603790561287426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyC_B5hhHAsdU3VnqjICihNughVUkMLq1zUMUoji8BhUP4rTiecQzSVTIaqtDsAjzk6QgmwyTGi79v2XM873RP67sHWnsFHS1J5Ynx6GQaifLKucSQUfugLRME_xYBd6hY4JFOOS4XEZBR/s320/IMG_3967.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475603524557243458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRb_X_04gA9MeoqsMqQ3663hib_R42ouo0ylTtOjHeProT4zwk3jgR4QyZNGn-0B41yv1O71R8FpX8A7mig0cbMgmOE1QXJO3raxDy7VtnBEhuIiZT-8t9TjrRrs7KUIbWNbVpGyqo21b9/s320/IMG_3964.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475603987704251634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe-CNRfqUBTzpqgsw7997n-OHNsQuo_XggGFzrnwMaEfFSnnua0ocRpNeSqyOGrkFIdL-dgi0-Jzea2h4NHSlzJezw4dXahdHDZ0j2WfqaPm9OoMgJNs0-jFOGyaRkMa4WLfhZjDWkCI77/s320/IMG_3971.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475604143726896882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirbdEpWWbfTahAF3TdS0tX09UiJ2EiqTWlGrdZIGYINEUbj_zFGAcH6XPEuj568w7bY0QOie6BjABbWQpOvRvKJIDYZtr0jW6yKbKk9n2ZZXGE-HLTAY5FB_VaGLdJpQBHMxsv4kfJHRQN/s320/family+photo.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475604288402498098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi35qDbPQ4aW_KeASLxK0J4K-4kEHv64N6A1kfkA-bmZgG7xmLm8O2OBhmNViCePC41v5hmd_xnomWkEjdBPr9vA_52uUHV7WsNIUU9w9DixS0CIo9Ih7vfCLBdrUkgxw8nRhRByhNRajMU/s320/aunt+nina.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475604955529656498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmarXDgs9jFzXA2vl_Ycq_L_R1sOEE5GqceJWUo09xKDkFTCZ-TvRurMP3_MpQZKnkaJ5Auf40V_33cDr45RpJaILdk8sDlbCvNpnwX3Wq2sq-cz59pnkyLJ0-BvodPLQS3M8QeV_MTE7b/s320/IMG_3987.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475604711933999234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcJpEEx45VL38_zBQDdQr1-HfQDiMXKTxk2KQo4b3Go-NL1nZqnzXbvw6nKZabWot-1m9JWvriMlosxQUgeDyLT0r6i7CMJUKsPS1gSSH0Uf6fiuIrP4ckhX_02Fp7mjhDfTUx-njMYAMr/s320/IMG_3974.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475605603847734690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfYXKOONrCILEbZBQvGs7vyJvSYrJ6TJCGa26N1SEPV7Z9NgC5mUmzeGyKNxhvAgIo4ichxtkj5EogJKPwrGkQLivfuFWIrr9Hyxo-R9_iL_S-Y51Wd1tY142fl0aOqQijiZ2zCCWVYvDz/s320/sibling+love.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475606877030248946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 245px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHpN99-u0lz6s8rJoN9NxTFsDbrAPh5EbFKIbXfrcV7LEKPO-EpMPle3vmFAe8vpeTYy-cON8Wzg_3eZRKLaIWx0LEuMFUTT7nep6-7Io4vQ4a_tkPriBP3434X6dT4b8CbjXnlMOnqRTA/s320/cool.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475605780819589330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Szo5l-dAQHeHocrrM7VqdrBJn8Hy1ybKDKNWvIkr1kMq92cPNTlPPDKTvI2zfR6MOV91dQF-EBOJiEEFRSecKlLCpRaqooApluyeO_ZO0CdZPto72NbGgwXs6Mbo1WRhJD_aUnIWWeS5/s320/IMG_3990.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475605938394874290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7BfEaD2zH-JvxgkS8YhFWGbqCHNmlrvP2S8lTba4dkFlQZmv4XwIX8-WFsvgiQzYOkJZG1iVKepdeDasoxNH6tr4cidmjUv196j_2vLGHX_En_dfVljU6vPL5ObGM30XJh0qQxr39amHA/s320/dakota+hipster.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475602295272752562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW44Hchyphenhyphen8EfxW-7tFIDenRnsHe2LLbN-2C8RzD12yB-_X-VjjeOdQ5Uw9wcd1FdGm611gQ6tzh7-J171S-lKJEdPJqJGWNcX6AEhUTBlOXMfWJREOwpicZEAxtQZQ2pCcrOlzlmRzyN5rZ/s320/IMG_3954.JPG" border="0" /> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-26984435743033041012010-05-20T05:30:00.000-07:002010-05-20T05:35:16.163-07:00Great philosophers of MY time.While watching He's Just Not That Into You the other day, I couldn't help but laugh at the opening scene. A little girl gets called dog poop by a little boy at a playground and then her mother proceeds to tell her the only reason the little boy called her dog poop was because he liked her. And that is where all girls get screwed! If someone treats you like crap, then he probably doesn't like you, but according to the movie, it means he does. It means he REALLY likes you. Ha. So, what's the point you ask? We have all seen this movie if not read the book it was adapted from. Well, I think we actually got some pretty great advice when we were kids and from an unexpected source. It is weird to say, but some of the best advice we could give our friends, family, and omg do I dare say, ourselves (!!??) these days comes from our childhood. To think, we had it all figured out when we were just five. It is easy to forget so here are my favs to remind you of some very simple, logical rules to live by.<br /><br /><strong><em>"You can't stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes." - Winnie the Pooh</em></strong> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473329348948568482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 308px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhisl0pTENuSdFbfeSrdqp2aKW2pMsjbtXZgHzQttiK30ZhrhuAbP2ZV8u7Pd8GZJ8K1uD4qx5KOvapSqJkVRDQA537d2kkGXxwQPsvQjje2z85iQwKaSEdGYpV_h8181z2Brl0qB_EvKV8/s320/winnie.jpg" border="0" /><br />Oh Pooh bear, how I adore thee! This is PERFECT for so many reasons, but I will share one. I have SO many friends that are single right now. People from high school, college (yes, there are a few of us from SC that are not yet married!) and other parts of my life that have yet to find their person. Many of these people are kind of lonely and are just waiting for Prince Charming to come sweeping in on his white horse. Well, first of all, I am pretty sure I already snagged him so keep dreaming ladies :) Secondly, take Pooh's advice. Go get your man! Or your woman, or your dream job or whatever! Pooh has been telling us since our wee years that we cannot just sit around waiting for things to come to us. We need to go out there into the big, dark, scary world and grab it for ourselves. Whatever it maybe. Me likey. <br /><br /><div><div><div><strong><em>“I used to believe in forever, but forever is too good to be true.” - Winnie the Pooh</em></strong> Sad, but true. Forever doesn't happen. Today might be your last day. So tell the ones you love that you love them and savour each moment. Make today the best day you can have. Smile. Be happy. </div><div><br /><strong><em>"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand." - Velveteen Rabbit <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473329450944906626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPW8AsbZfdGhFhKzMCRAJWtxPqeBg0ryz7OiPIMZuXRk1WgsR3cqmOAAfCUt_YgzZWbquHG_jQACD29atA3wo4LNV1uVX1-bd2dYC9ncNMVYhU7R3WpumnEXOF1R4m0PsH3RVLf4PqAYKa/s320/velveteen-rabbit.png" border="0" /><br /></em></strong>It takes each of us a different amount of time to really discover who we are and what we are all about. Once you do uncover the Real part of yourself, embrace them. Be yourself. Because those who truly care about you will find those parts of you beautiful. When you are happy in your own skin, in your own mind, in your own beliefs, that is when you are the most beautiful.<br /><br /><em><strong>"Two rights don't equal a left." BFG</strong> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473329591533906738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 305px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4VSk3QUvHjEHJ6s-6cUudMUiSIVpJwLaIoJV-uxisJDyqIxcqsHbz6qvL3EuYdkZB5IRuGag4M0wyNPrt_9IcyzhuCqxdPhEyNbi7WxhVlZYPS_L_AphWHgUep9RrzG-hGBd5DAYm3eF/s320/bfg.jpg" border="0" /><br /></em>Well, I really think that needs no explanation :) </div></div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-3534750822578606872010-05-11T11:05:00.000-07:002010-05-11T11:07:47.388-07:00Mussels are people too.<div><div>At the risk of sounding completely incompetent, am I the only one on this tiny ball of dust we call earth that didn't realize mussels were alive?! I mean, I knew they were alive at some point in time. They were alive with their little mussel family deep in the salty sea blanket of protection and life. They were alive with their little mussel boyfriends. They were alive with their little mussel mania conventions. They were alive. I get it.<br /><br />I just thought that by the time they magically and humanly appeared in my local grocery store they would be dead and ready for consumption. Not.so.much. I preface the remainder of this murder confession, I mean, blog post by saying I am not a vegetarian by any means. I eat hamburgers, hot dogs and lord knows what else with the best of them. I do not cry when Wilber appears perfectly fried up on my breakfast platter next to my eggs Benedict nor do I shed tears when Mary's little lamb happens to be oh so scrumptious that she ends up nestled safely, warmly in my tiny tummy. However, I have never cooked anything that was technically still alive. Me no likey.<br /><br />While carefully selecting my mussels on Sunday, the fish monger asked if I would be preparing the tiny children today. Since I already had a planned menu for that night, I told him my intention was to steam em on up Monday. He proceeded to bag, tag and hand over my small pound of noms and then told me to be sure I stored them in a bowl with a tiny bit of water and open lid so they can breathe until it is cooking time. Excuse me? They can breathe?!?!?<br /><br />Ugh. I swear the entire time I was preparing my garlic, butter and wine sauce on the stove Horratio, Horris and the whole gang (clearly they had been named by that point) were looking at me. I had to place a towel over the bowl to get some privacy. And then apologized as I slipped them one by one into the pit of despair aka the sauce pan. Sigh. I am a murdered.<br /><br />I ate 2. I assume it was my dear Horratio and Horris - the twins. And then I become so upset I had to stop and force the bf to stop as well. They were taken out to their final resting place soon thereafter. I hope they like the city provided trash bin. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470075515215698098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWROei_YrsfsAiz3wPbw874Ln4VYlhDmUhTYi6j2wihNW624oPGBGxyPsy7L5lPZiMhotc1L7dlVyna1cjJz0RJPpsuki6lQ372M0pvHhxZMzDU53vxII2gHNJJEelqqRqREviHU55K7a6/s320/IMG_3925.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470075427205922530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicrvgoEnTa7RmieaUzDShqCfBPzhOe2bliQ37JL7cdYTMUkUDNY5vcouxoLkPbxW3s4Qzb93wOazg44Lt0_Y87KUMcntYzi09oE9ZG-tI0RtCE9Sj5ivXapCt0OVTrHWP3g0Ub8KcfpgYH/s320/IMG_3924.JPG" border="0" />Moral of the story - Mussels are meant to be eaten at restaurants. Not at home. Write that down.<br /><br />Good day. </div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-47219757286794467172010-05-10T13:12:00.000-07:002010-05-10T13:17:48.911-07:00Housewarming GiftsToday, a friend asked for housewarming gift suggestions. My first instinct, like any sane person, was to suggest this <a id="xnik" title="golden ticket." href="http://www.amazon.com/Big-Mouth-Billy-Bass-Sensation/dp/B000F792BG" goog_docs_charindex="143">golden ticket.</a> Apparently, we were looking for something more serious so the search continued. Google affords us lightening fast information so naturally, that is where I began. The Internet is a scary place my friends (or stalkers whatevs). So besides Billy, which clearly is the front runner, here is a delightful sampling of what cyberspace thinks people actually want for their housewarming gifts... <div><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469737174835478146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 204px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 204px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_SaZAkJqCkOQCO16dL0rRs5429Nnhv0VduGrBUEBBW8GbCtrP0LnFutmspP2Ws8DQ-VHbBQXAj1hnPpn-gzF03nt1EzuWTsfiYGUtZfO7k8KnrJjB4dftVkHUVhpTxZt8V5XkrnQXLrua/s320/come_here.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469737236414131554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHHYjI81lUjo6TEf-pApqKV9yrOYGkwHFu2uXQI88LaR2t3Z7lO_NofjHRR-e0Ejl__NZEkNoBX7WJ24BIEOSlQvEGnrj4X8CyZoMkpRWMCSNT2hyphenhyphenpNOdSxcp4pTE85rylrQvmpOaXpIHp/s320/fish+bowl.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469737458141011906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6RXPnrWPr8uFtC6fH7eUl14yPalZ0BYnmtkIr6b0QbgejvleaRlc74KDE8yN1XfX706jEXmUAEww1PeeD96cp19BdjTdHdpRChQSk6YcqTYIUoDiywbXq1CBWpdH0k7WJEPgn-D_HGpn9/s320/toilet_paper.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469737521499586706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkf7cUxm-nFcHlMykw_rO6eihtZV2CtG7XLHo620REawgzNZZ_N_w9Q1x58wYBeqVI0xHzShslu9_Fqzc2lUfqZqG-05VZ8UV9x_i4g-LQEvPTEfGcKr007Dj-2SauT_p4Lg3MSva4wI6l/s320/knife+set.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>I must admit I love housewarming parties. The main and most crucial reason my heart swells with joy at the site of a housewarming evite or perfectly printed paper invitation sent through the oh so vintage Pony Express is this: <strong>housewarming parties are equal opportunity employers.</strong> <em>Gentleman, bear with me. Ladies, let’s go.</em> This reminds me of the episode of SATC when Carrie realizes she is constantly celebrating the life choices of all her friends and said choices are inevitably those in which all the single ladies are left out of - sorry Beyonce. Alas, there is always the housewarming party. Whether you are single, married, divorced, its complicated (oh gee thanks facebook!), or anything in between you, <strong>YES YOU</strong>, can have a housewarming party too. Oh and you can warm anything from your fabulous new purchased abode (where nothing will be furnished for the next 5-10 year because you just spent every last jager bomb penny on your down payment) to your perfect little cookie cutter Post Property that we have all lived in. That is one of the highlights of our early twenties kids! Everyone is constantly moving and yes, it sucks when it is you, but when it's not you, you get to party. And when it is you, you get gifts and lets all be honest, gifts are glorious.<br /><br />So for those of you looking forward to our next housewarming, book your tickets to NYC for summer 2011. And you can forget the wall mounted fish bowl (however, I know a few friends who will absolutley ask where they can get that fabulous knife set). Bring your shining face and a good bottle of carmenere and we will be besties for life.<br /><br />Happy housewarming! </div></div></div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-31747769099860394862010-04-22T12:22:00.001-07:002010-04-22T12:32:43.980-07:00Half way through my third decade…Technically, I am still in my mid twenties which is just how I like things…in the middle. I don’t particularly care for summer or winter, I like autumn and spring. When it comes to my mattress, I prefer something not too firm and not too soft or my back begins to feel like an old woman. Oh and ice cream? No thank you…too icy and frozen yogurt is too creamy. I choose gelato every time if available. Right in the middle.<br />So here I am in the middle and loving every moment. I think I am supposed be more of an adult nowadays, but I certainly don’t feel like that. I guess if I actually felt old then I would be freaking out about each birthday. Good thing reality hasn’t had a chance to set in yet. Catch me if you can!<br />This birthday was exceptionally amazing. I am tempted to hack into thesauruses.com and type a laundry list of words that mean exceptionally amazing, but hopefully you can live without and feel joy through the screen of your tiny little window to the cyber world.<br />Part uno of my bday to rival all bdays was a small trip over the other side of the pond to an island you might have heard of…JAPAN! BAM! The bf and I boarded a plane at oh way too early o’clock a few days prior to the magical day of my birth to saunter over the Pacific and land safely in cherry blossom heaven. Tokyo was amazing. The city is MASSIVE. Think of New York City. Got it? Now multiply by 20 and you might be close to the size of Tokyo. We spent 5 days there and barely scratched the surface of what this fantastic place has to offer. It is hands down the cleanest place I have ever visited and home to the nicest people ever made. The food was interesting, but tasty nonetheless; however, there wasn’t as much sushi as you would think. I expected to be so over fish by the time we arrived back in the states, but the big to do over there is not the sush…it is the noodle caboodle. We both tried baby squid and just to save you some time, money and embarrassment from tossing your cookies in a fancy smancy eatery take my advice: skip it. Maybe adult squid is more up my alley, but that riddle will have to wait to be solved until the next trip. A photo montage for your viewing pleasure.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463044487064269778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCWreVhQINE4iT-s520zQv-k7IaPRKdaSEnWqxwA8ZGICcMfuoLM9_5iKOBeUhQWAs3-Yc3HycjRhbeH5Le4J8vM52qlrCGt_ySEcbwGOy5C3ijLxx2n6wg_R4PnGintS5reqv3MBiCKle/s320/232323232%257Ffp6323%253B%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D3464398256337nu0mrj.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463044589862032946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJDzWl_GPiVRUfdx8ih8GNHYSWvs7DAEanjGVkBKRqRJDm6wiBOuZsFoNr0_2ib6sIXmS49sbO9Wsa1o-QnZ1fPTk9tbOh5STc9obU7pJU0YTE-sGx25Qaz5gqzQkIlZb5RpCD3a0qTqm/s320/232323232%257Ffp6327%253A%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D34643%253B4%253B%253C4337nu0mrj.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463044685249006466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwtZ2C2qp1dgC9JZ-1ivfF7PdvbFU6JNQbmaTZOE6bZoEkIVebW_PH1N887IrSaDN-p9Mua0xbiW7Mw7XVGkZj2HDJey0Mu6CCCHl_6FQbyYe9lmc5j2Imk8kFO9MI-3-hKbjgsA93YMLr/s320/232323232%257Ffp63243%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D34643%253A%253B%253B%253C6337nu0mrj.jpg" border="0" /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_QcFzyF4ZfZKGYeUWrI2VIabg187osmdbXbKz25k5zuK0C46CPtu2g4XP44QG3JTpY9sxBI1WkWfpJ1LxIgbsX0NKX9ZMz38HXL_5IinNzzfjeL5P4VMpUx8mioDYY3-RuiHhQsW8Mzc/s1600/232323232%257Ffp63244%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D34643%253B5744337nu0mrj.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463044793412219090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_QcFzyF4ZfZKGYeUWrI2VIabg187osmdbXbKz25k5zuK0C46CPtu2g4XP44QG3JTpY9sxBI1WkWfpJ1LxIgbsX0NKX9ZMz38HXL_5IinNzzfjeL5P4VMpUx8mioDYY3-RuiHhQsW8Mzc/s320/232323232%257Ffp63244%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D34643%253B5744337nu0mrj.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilcw46yhNY0QOaFDQwitsRIjfmQMRZT-dmnFIf0y132UJZCSMzdPHc2PjGJ6tZW_0MqBCoMOvHoYm46-JHq9s7g7W9El7HNnYEaVDY4MIrvLVO-0aft8OvKxMU-PKWdsIpQNkg9TyEwVTj/s1600/232323232%257Ffp63249%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D34643%253B83%253C6337nu0mrj.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463045134016188994" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilcw46yhNY0QOaFDQwitsRIjfmQMRZT-dmnFIf0y132UJZCSMzdPHc2PjGJ6tZW_0MqBCoMOvHoYm46-JHq9s7g7W9El7HNnYEaVDY4MIrvLVO-0aft8OvKxMU-PKWdsIpQNkg9TyEwVTj/s320/232323232%257Ffp63249%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D34643%253B83%253C6337nu0mrj.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463045021036464050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFUUfPuTByAZX5wmkj607l2s-nX__P-jrruFFXSFxmBMJ7Fr3nizA2OxwTHgzRUolf_BigQGkotxey0atOmxPxwRlhi7ueUifnNYkDjtokWHGWu3Ttb7VchcVJ6rfHfsQJl7mph5vmfK8/s320/232323232%257Ffp63246%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D3464398232337nu0mrj.jpg" border="0" /></div><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkpyX9ShpiTTUSMvT0BHxyjgyh91EfWk5u9gUrFoTwrRkPhYSJEtUvfBEIsvtoUgYH2MJJSdOqM3CkoZVRr4S2shRTCf3qY2QMJXEUMxT6w9wST_uJ2nhtAExMFqgdVKmjmFLQJ-03mDQ/s1600/232323232%257Ffp63273%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D34643%253B5794337nu0mrj.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463045468524968386" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkpyX9ShpiTTUSMvT0BHxyjgyh91EfWk5u9gUrFoTwrRkPhYSJEtUvfBEIsvtoUgYH2MJJSdOqM3CkoZVRr4S2shRTCf3qY2QMJXEUMxT6w9wST_uJ2nhtAExMFqgdVKmjmFLQJ-03mDQ/s320/232323232%257Ffp63273%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D34643%253B5794337nu0mrj.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsH6I0S4pFJIaZtBikpVQCFcIawH-B06-x_k2pt5eGsGDQFW1_aoA-6lVxkZAD1c2l2zPEhesWePvDXPAFLAzVZTMHzVr2qLl6HbC6q9XZsUNSlrZWwlg4V-b97a1bCbP8f7WTUDL5kjA/s1600/232323232%257Ffp63276%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D34643%253B578%253A337nu0mrj.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463045357840392594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsH6I0S4pFJIaZtBikpVQCFcIawH-B06-x_k2pt5eGsGDQFW1_aoA-6lVxkZAD1c2l2zPEhesWePvDXPAFLAzVZTMHzVr2qLl6HbC6q9XZsUNSlrZWwlg4V-b97a1bCbP8f7WTUDL5kjA/s320/232323232%257Ffp63276%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D34643%253B578%253A337nu0mrj.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463045644784356530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinWV0X5FWdvN0QgWsEmAv3fyRHxLuwwk2Z2KfBPGCeLTK_V7mJ2a8FX8FEG0ayvwmN1wMwP-Z3pHtOTHzHc61sXZjzYdyrmpw8I9lHbYdKMd9sjgxZ6wCzFOoxkP2EGDK3qOeQzS024wmu/s320/232323232%257Ffp63282%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D34643%253B57%253A%253A337nu0mrj.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463045928483928690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8A5CWoX9qApeSa3hrf4kgpQvb4d6vIBrHWe47Tjv_gmZtsIRMJy_XtK19i-5UppUpwbEwZF7APDKdS3uNHWEptX4I01FTTPGox89L-eJQwJDho0gxr60X-hzVkKdIhBOsYmE4xXnEFnZL/s320/232323232%257Ffp63283%253Enu%253D32%253C2%253E2%253A3%253E283%253EWSNRCG%253D34643%253A68%253C2337nu0mrj.jpg" border="0" /> <div>Part duex of my bday to rival all bdays was a super fun celebration with my VIPs attending the midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show in full on costume. Instead of attempting to describe the pure craziness of the night in my own words, I am going to take advantage of my bestie and allow her to tell you all about it. <a href="http://steinomiteatl.blogspot.com/2010/04/24-plaza-theater-midnight-showing-of.html">Click here to read all the dirty dets! </a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-27780113529482078942010-04-06T11:40:00.001-07:002010-04-06T11:52:44.511-07:00Pullman Yard<div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_JTUlBSMnD5mBElaqIe7V0Rq1dED4LsgB8UqbXgLfKjLaA-p8HbFJEMFRdKaES0OVJUQc2Q7d1gWcuyDGaPUdDF5iyfxfHvNkQByVg0anGF7AaInD2N00ZhLWCm70cDGZZs8xvTe7ZuB/s1600/IMG_3769.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457097843905600002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_JTUlBSMnD5mBElaqIe7V0Rq1dED4LsgB8UqbXgLfKjLaA-p8HbFJEMFRdKaES0OVJUQc2Q7d1gWcuyDGaPUdDF5iyfxfHvNkQByVg0anGF7AaInD2N00ZhLWCm70cDGZZs8xvTe7ZuB/s320/IMG_3769.JPG" border="0" /></a>A few months ago, my dear Sil heard that there was some abandoned train yard hidden in downtown Atlanta. We fully intended on finding said yard at that time, but alas, life gets in your way and it is now <em>APRIL</em>. Sil had to work this weekend, so with bf in tow we ventured out on yet another adventure. <strong>Life is good.</strong><br /><br />Daniel used his amazeballs investigative skillz to track down the exact location of the yard and we were off! For those Atlantans reading, you can find the yard on the edge of Kirkwood just passed the Arizona Lofts. At first glance, I was a bit apprehensive of all the <strong>NO TRESSPASSING</strong> signs. After all, I am kinda a stickler for the rules. Onward we marched until we found a break in the chain link fence and barb wire where we easily squeezed through – thank god we are skinny.<br /><br />And there it was.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457096831983668274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJznww1xC0z6ZxoEygcGshpBIUPMbuP6FmarENC-5TL_s2ij4FlZI5UeyZg7CDZ5TpvghD6qkRs9dJVRSkH04fmA75JJi5kcejoocXrFymEEpau8gEwxsebzEn8YNMHuDbVMIkk1PxJ9F7/s320/IMG_3738.JPG" border="0" /><br />We spent the next hour or so in awe of this amazing place that was completely abandoned. The main office was trashed, but still had big red Christmas bows on the ground surrounded by mounds of paperwork. The entire property is comprised of several buildings including the main, very large warehouse where we discovered an old Amtrak train that was awesome. It was completely graffited on the outside and we were tempted, but too scared to go inside. It looked as if the old train might have a newer occupant as we saw a couch, table and bottle of booze from the doorway. We decided we would save that for the next trip. The crumbling brick buildings were punctured with trees squeezing through the slightest crack and exploding on the other side, the glass windows have long been broken and leave light pouring through the side buildings while the main warehouse is graffited to the max, dark and haunting. The slightest breeze and you would hear things that gave you goosebumps simply from the huge, echoing rooms.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457098144259544050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfdrSq8O1SwEFPpxUmyxfd44oqaBNLQlYiDTSsufcPy3Ct_jLdwRxs96j7cQtkoNy1sHkVjPIxFuCU5vvFj2kONGDdjn8jxSR41B1x5XhPW01W9P3zuLIs7qShmUsSj61r9l-AONR88C4/s320/IMG_3774.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457098285849866866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaWMrGUjBmmS8V3HvbfUwfwjUlsVYnVeYr3XjwpUonkB63yGwASp7dwJnoa0-l9V82tYV9s_GhuIGddf1Yx_BT-afDntUx3oFVaXKs8XFdTnHFcqQsZagHtVC7bCMDsA7qrm5xxAQNKLMN/s320/IMG_3776.JPG" border="0" /><br />This place really was amazing and I am so glad we got in, got out and didn’t get caught. A photo montage for your viewing pleasure. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457097028974025554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRIPBHE2WmVt7pb3R5juSviA_miD9wAqkU_QojQIyWFhyphenhyphenOFlIKKROavoTn23215LMf-9Da-uYu9jPt9-HHbMQiwKSxEYcc7pX4PSbPjkAKKhykVBMjQVVTqpGM-D0hPAvTHi1td5OgQ3qn/s320/IMG_3740.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457097233450256834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnXHATwjq6vaCLWSTBXXkkCEYEMl2lldMKI6QEIs9eEd2gZbzCaKqYgJbm7jaPjIyGXgPjdeaZkyWrhWdKEGNmvv2iVkg8zQ6A3WNS35mkXs_GFmqEg9LxEGJXLDfu-WfYSDef1m3REED/s320/IMG_3747.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457097348336046098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJlGSPGnRRdO9i_FRDJC6AtV_MZ8Bw9NJUuMdVSg9mSMcYUfyURjuJZb9vzxtbWmc0ryTGeFHSeb2KXnoBCNvovwzgLFjPZSMrmgk_YE-hjMT7KG_ZNDk7mj1OxejWvH9nwAKVULiK_nk/s320/IMG_3750.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457097510988874530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8WUg6cxaQYrOrpmRlVHy2bjIVo6y-4cerJdigaFv7LdiRft1lg0zNT7WMiS_SMMUKdULBlxMiKiqtWJLC6OxRrhInCRwYPTdf4-eG66hcC3AYfIWDhMFzVuVUILzsu6DResdYT_7Nbzaj/s320/IMG_3751.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457097611550167346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXqqu5TRZeyboG_9MdFlVuZhMIF2vh1glSD9D_w7arazH2WCgJBIgcIC4N3eMtp9oWzKPdzjhVKMc8Zckr1vBvNFP8Xik-xinq8Vjs9wiWFpwwlbFgApUbzDMLdNZ7EncELx8766l7bFf/s320/IMG_3759.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457097727568070738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisxJGlms1qJEX96CA1dSCFUl7jjrvhRq8m2X0RuIk0tCMZhncJdlNRNW_nk1Ap6SU85BQB-NYLRMZCXSQGV6k0vGMloEzkYnLfKG6q9nJnWN5IyjeGwWiOC5vygh6l60VuBOLk10CjPHUp/s320/IMG_3762.JPG" border="0" /></div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457098015775075810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAsaervmoFGApNwCxolLJbNZarWpGcrM3ga5_qpOULt-xsZhOR7TCX9fpjuwSO-o5vveUbVpF4zGgHoqjO7cBcc6oKi2G4IBxFQhykJHUNDrGuGahY51vuLD1RyPpaq6OcKJXvcBQmMP0D/s320/IMG_3773.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457098425282366706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkUR232u0NK3PWY18_yyJJBRxLF3GEmfHndKtE17p4gVG4Gzt72aQdK7u0fEZiGgLdFKswOC5pkL__AwwDbb5EdJNNcmlFB-vQdc7yZsVyuBCA0o8Uv_C75hDWtJ4hcidJ8IiAccmdyG6s/s320/IMG_3775.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457098559115270818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3w9uEoNA5-MDX1_13zhs94-Qa6LioS7OPTaodk6xyZKSXj0nVnotjmu_x0xLJHFE6CyT0Q7bpqLYeGlQMos2AeDZNGjcWDp55FxpSTOH3XlO_FyuKSNZEtbLwVQGs84CaB4jD1ypCNXhT/s320/IMG_3778.JPG" border="0" />Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-28665624835843120022010-04-06T06:06:00.000-07:002010-04-06T06:13:00.651-07:005 things that I would get if money was NO OPTIONI saw this on another blog this morning and am stealing it. No apologies. <div><div><div><div><br /><div>1. Macbook ~ I cannot tell you how many times this little gem has appeared in my shopping cart on Bestbuy.com, the Apple store and mentally in my mind on a daily basis. I am literally one more glass of wine away from hitting the check out button. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457010583904727330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 281px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUaej49GKzYg6cw1xLNQca8KHzZf_gC-hVXYqK98KJRjBQITxpwraGBJpmCsma0nYXkeNBoAlRKCLf8B4b5XhJOM4j-NoGfA4Nc9jgaOWm71O2ljjXN3QoQOjhzozqIYQ9qhGu5CDeQPtI/s320/macbook.png" border="0" /><br />2. A trip around the world with stops in: Fiji, Venice, Malta, Bali, Sydney, Venice, Singapore, Bangkok, Laos, Vietnam, Venice, The Seychelles, Joburg, Morocco, Egypt, Barcelona, Paris, Mykonos, Venice, London, Dublin and did I mention Venice? <a href="http://www.staralliance.com/en/booking/book-and-fly/#">http://www.staralliance.com/en/booking/book-and-fly/#</a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457010730335781874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-L4CC0MRNsl_xmq1AJrX-iaIpxJux1twaXV0bqLHB1hS6iiVrqbNiDu2p7Eu815Yg8iLEQWp9HHVEI7-lKgr2I1kUTik05ZWrNKkDW0k6gYifVMAkFzmXctu92ZxGx44zNfrBbRSdvGpF/s320/RoundTheWorld_385x180.jpg" border="0" /><br />3. A faboosh LAMB handbag that I cannot find anywhere besides ebay. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457010915245726546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT1SA-dhMwsxmYSY13EfZoG8eAfK2GUjFclxvUx7iJgvcZd8iYw2ZpI3ixlds1zxj89OyMiWt1qq-gMOPn40dovleoQZKbDKZn_kkbyq2FHa5nspbwsi1ZRSg0zf8lVZPNbh1wrMXAYgKz/s320/AAAADA8LboUAAAAAABm8nQ.jpg" border="0" /><br />4. This to.die.for chair from Paris on Ponce. Seriously, who wants to give me $1400?<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457011362074423250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvDzRkTwTekFeJYP_r_dIbqJRG4PGWEdEMoNNsEP-yDhz2OF7dtRV2yhGmeZGZjYU9Cw-3V0vYwg3F0MvCcYK7seFYZRX5Dpefq_1smc_ZMsuNUG2mfLdFQlttEkS_VJTWPSR6xIvFZ8I/s320/IMG_3720.JPG" border="0" /><br />5. The entire Le Creuset enameled cast iron cookware line…in every color. When it comes to cooking there are a few rules I live by. I believe in garlic, I believe in cooking while drinking red wine, and I certainly believe that this gorg cookware adds a little magic to each dish and thus tastes like you truly are Betty Crocker. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457011049766063154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 310px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 290px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpOKStOFsDL_1SYfWXF97PVxwidBS_UShrjXJoPLXw2LLB1hQ8n4WyUMVSOtiMG3VjOfDu-D27zg0eOT0kTmLYQFe_TQZ4DUJR5SvqdtWAuGi-i4PqPIrJ0NiYEe7utAe1y47o2fWbhO4p/s320/6+PC+Classic+Set+MO5196+(70).jpg" border="0" />What would you buy today if money were no option? </div></div></div></div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-92214292003756474372010-04-02T06:07:00.000-07:002010-04-02T06:10:59.396-07:00Reunions are so pre-millennium<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvK4wA6rSM3fpGus3C8uMb8gGX1F023nILt0x7YTiw9RFzRMLrwYVbgJ_lX-IcHMhyfT6L4X8wDsRUMO2-nkbwggGu-EwYN3IYbjseIaYABhjENkzsW2C02uc2rQtb3ANmTJO482p3GvSA/s1600/smallhornet.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455526657830195282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 271px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvK4wA6rSM3fpGus3C8uMb8gGX1F023nILt0x7YTiw9RFzRMLrwYVbgJ_lX-IcHMhyfT6L4X8wDsRUMO2-nkbwggGu-EwYN3IYbjseIaYABhjENkzsW2C02uc2rQtb3ANmTJO482p3GvSA/s320/smallhornet.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I have been a member of the RHS Class of 2002 Reunion group on fb.com for about a year or so now and I honestly do not know why. <em>Here’s the deal kids: I really don’t see the point of class reunions for our generation anymore.</em> Shocking, I know. I always thought I would be gung hoe to attend the big shin dig every 10 or so years because…gasp…I actually really enjoyed my high school experience. Seriously, I did. I loved high school so much that I actually <strong>CRIED</strong> when my parents were driving me up to college because I figured life just didn’t get better than good old Roswell High. Try to contain your laughter, please. Well, I certainly learned differently and while I will always have fond memories of high school I am now a tad apprehensive to jump on the whole reunion bandwagon deal.<br />I always thought the purpose of reunions was to reconnect with old friends, network and be nostalgic. Or see who got fat and bald. Whatevs. Well, nowa days with the advent of fb.com, I already know who got fat, knocked up and failed to graduate from college sooooooooo what’s the point? Ok ok, you say the point is to reconnect with old friends right? Well, again, with fb.com I am in touch with the people I want to be in touch with and have access readily available to those I might find interest in at some later point in time. So I just don’t see the point of the high school reunion anymore.<br />I guess that makes me a Debbie downer or cynical or just plain lame, but I really do not foresee myself shelling out the standard $75 for two drink tickets, bad buffet food, a cheesey DJ and embarrassing slideshow so me and the bf can talk to people we already talk to and avoid the ones we don’t.<br />I can safely say for certain: <strong>I am just too cool for school.<br /></strong></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8581903482345671201.post-9720001531603876332010-03-17T05:28:00.000-07:002010-03-17T05:29:27.182-07:00Writer's Block.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJd3G0hskFbMytcQRPAuw-mFME8ELxrstH5PZzFoZiYuGMg3R4ZhwciANwLJkLXxm3gneAumKP9zw2rDVCVZDObOTYzMgGA1Gzti0Akdj-KlLKDNrN3mrwm9mkSM1p-5v3KJrrdhQ57VU/s1600-h/writers_block1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJd3G0hskFbMytcQRPAuw-mFME8ELxrstH5PZzFoZiYuGMg3R4ZhwciANwLJkLXxm3gneAumKP9zw2rDVCVZDObOTYzMgGA1Gzti0Akdj-KlLKDNrN3mrwm9mkSM1p-5v3KJrrdhQ57VU/s320/writers_block1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449578781526700018" /></a><p class="MsoNormal" align="left" style="text-align:left">I have writer’s block. I haven’t felt the urge to blog in some time now. That is what is on my mind. The end.</p>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00195076622367349529noreply@blogger.com0