tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43823838528441858592024-03-05T03:19:43.694-08:00The Single LifeEliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.comBlogger133125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-74517929991406353522012-08-15T11:15:00.002-07:002012-08-15T11:15:53.730-07:00Breaking my silence...For the funniest thing I've seen in a while. I might have to do this myself.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/5XLZwO1OklA" width="640"></iframe>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-15232037807142413592012-04-30T20:53:00.000-07:002012-04-30T20:53:41.488-07:00Birthday week accomplished<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Hello friends. I had a great birthday week. It started with presents and flowers. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisVrdzW0u76-nv12W1JTHRGB4XhQnuVqrV4Iz5Gun-nRjjynpyUFFJjQrscHy9yOt65Qy0c4SepKYCNr2pbzrFbcaZ7T67UNUZaJFrnfbeZTR9AfdXJ2r_LS9Cn913fdRAK-YCTCdhYNL/s1600/IMG_0729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisVrdzW0u76-nv12W1JTHRGB4XhQnuVqrV4Iz5Gun-nRjjynpyUFFJjQrscHy9yOt65Qy0c4SepKYCNr2pbzrFbcaZ7T67UNUZaJFrnfbeZTR9AfdXJ2r_LS9Cn913fdRAK-YCTCdhYNL/s400/IMG_0729.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And cupcakes. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFfbCc6HZZ6QrI_5HUFDBXRVM861j-gRTXUrNFCCAqIm6vjcw17SXBIz-lusmMU9W44zVYH136MypnZtwq14ZA29wqVGtGxsm0qetefQhGUBb7thrFYn9Fk9nlDv94Bo4EOFSHuEBh_mHl/s1600/IMG_0731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFfbCc6HZZ6QrI_5HUFDBXRVM861j-gRTXUrNFCCAqIm6vjcw17SXBIz-lusmMU9W44zVYH136MypnZtwq14ZA29wqVGtGxsm0qetefQhGUBb7thrFYn9Fk9nlDv94Bo4EOFSHuEBh_mHl/s400/IMG_0731.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I bought myself a plant at one of our many Home Depot runs.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm so helpful.</td></tr>
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Mr. Renaissance had a birthday surprise for me. We were going to do it on Saturday night. But then Friday morning, after my birthday dinner at <a href="http://thechefinthehat.com/rovers/" target="_blank">Rover's</a> with Halterwhip and The Shutterbug, I woke up pretty tired. You see we've been sleeping on a full size bed. Me, a 200 lb man, and a dog. Bubba got kicked off the bed in the middle of that night, but it didn't help much. Bed. too. small!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj578QRWKWfUM-CxK6rtn4VsgHD7uy2kICTIeWMcdGISTJCOD-lAG-YNhcwus6qGEq6wRimO-F5VaZHNYPc_uq3qNPuT8dp2T31lHtPgV7qVxalQ-Kx49AydAsEk9v4u6QbhxsKvGacFw_3/s1600/IMG_0046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj578QRWKWfUM-CxK6rtn4VsgHD7uy2kICTIeWMcdGISTJCOD-lAG-YNhcwus6qGEq6wRimO-F5VaZHNYPc_uq3qNPuT8dp2T31lHtPgV7qVxalQ-Kx49AydAsEk9v4u6QbhxsKvGacFw_3/s640/IMG_0046.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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So Friday morning we decided to upgrade to a king size bed. I hadn't wanted to change beds until we moved - it seemed like too much work - but we were obviously in a too small bed. And I acquiesced. </div>
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And it took up three days.</div>
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We had to go to a few stores to try mattresses, pick out a frame and comforter at IKEA, buy new sheets at Target, take the old bed apart, move the pile of boxes out of the dining room and into the new shed to make room to store the old bed, transfer the underbed storage to the new underbed storage, prewash the linens, put the new bed together, and make the bed. </div>
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Whew. It was exhausting. And the first few nights the new memory foam mattress had to outgas. Meaning it has VOCs that need to come off the mattress (apparently like new car upholstery). But it was so so strong. We seriously thought about returning the mattress after the first night. It's gotten much better* and it's comfortable. </div>
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But the size? The size is amazing. The bedroom actually looks bigger than it did with the smaller bed. And Mr. Renaissance let me pick a white metal frame and lavender bedding. </div>
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So I still have a birthday surprise to redeem. Although I'm not sure when we'll do it. Weekend fill up fast and Slutbag is coming this weekend! </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* We still might trade the mattress in though. We'll see.</span></div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-76725247405518824882012-04-18T19:31:00.000-07:002012-04-18T19:31:00.045-07:00Do you ever do this to yourself?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnv4sbkALgsWwC-8EoOhogvRm-pLZIeZ0-D_8qpsCuOKJl9dNc7HYiOqgWD6jHQgd_56RmP3DVSK7589tGF5ht5aMxHC5CyBynclZzj32oUYNTY7wJRvqXo82Xzhf39APjInkJF2GOv_Eg/s1600/IMG_0673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnv4sbkALgsWwC-8EoOhogvRm-pLZIeZ0-D_8qpsCuOKJl9dNc7HYiOqgWD6jHQgd_56RmP3DVSK7589tGF5ht5aMxHC5CyBynclZzj32oUYNTY7wJRvqXo82Xzhf39APjInkJF2GOv_Eg/s640/IMG_0673.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Fold laundry on the bed while watching TV and end up pinning yourself in?</div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-21339908941438100402012-04-15T22:29:00.000-07:002012-04-15T22:29:27.181-07:00Bubba, CGCNow another member of the family has three initials after their name. One PhD, one CGC. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canine_Good_Citizen" target="_blank">Canine Good Citizen</a>, that is. <br />
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</div>We just finished a six week class on Advanced Manners at <a href="http://www.fuzzybuddys.com/" target="_blank">Fuzzy Buddy's</a> in Seattle. Every Sunday afternoon we've left the house renovation for an hour class at Greenlake. Some things he was already great at - sit, down, stay, and coming when called. Other things - like walking on a loose lead and not reacting to other dogs - that's what we needed to work on. I was having a hard time with those. I had tried multiple things to get him to stop pulling on the leash pretty much unsuccessfully, and he needed more practice and positive reinforcement on ignoring other dogs when on leash.<br />
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Today was the last class where he took the test. He had to:<br />
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<ol><li>Accept a friendly stranger greeting his owner.</li>
<li>Allow the stranger to pet him.</li>
<li>Let the stranger groom him.</li>
<li>Walk on a loose lead.</li>
<li>Walk politely through a crowd.</li>
<li>Sit and lie down on command and stay in place.</li>
<li>Come when called.</li>
<li>React appropriately to another dog.</li>
<li>React appropriately to distractions.</li>
<li>Calmly endure supervised separation from the owner.</li>
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He did really well and passed his test. Now he's <i>officially</i> a good boy.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.akc.org/events/cgc/my_dog_passed.cfm" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="http://images.akc.org/CGC-my-dog-passed150x214.jpg" /></a></div>In other news, Greenlake isn't just a great place to take your dog on a warm spring day. It's also a pretty good outing for your baby chicks apparently. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyR09Q3ymD47cjAGLH7FBnKc9_wIjLMQ136zY3DrnmKtzK5_A7nUSezdXxckQd-3l5r9x4hnv6C3cy2EdkokLHm1JEUPqcQaIyhx96e2l25lU1kFuVjMdEscil2acxCzMTZ8UA30rzePPk/s1600/IMG_0705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="540" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyR09Q3ymD47cjAGLH7FBnKc9_wIjLMQ136zY3DrnmKtzK5_A7nUSezdXxckQd-3l5r9x4hnv6C3cy2EdkokLHm1JEUPqcQaIyhx96e2l25lU1kFuVjMdEscil2acxCzMTZ8UA30rzePPk/s640/IMG_0705.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Which is what was in this lady's makeshift, travel, 2x4 pen.</span></div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-20857520543216948252012-04-12T08:30:00.000-07:002012-04-12T08:30:01.861-07:00I filed my taxes myself!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCr0pWGXjFquC9KRe_x_1U7_gZtbEt2nFpVvnpZidmMm37WcH8OYViVHmW8ypTKBE-UvpTyIJ2DDhq75auNBHCgdDSY1TqwTioV_llKUP0s97WqiiT1ZYVdorK8yDZHzgiZ9YqVIyQW_va/s1600/uncle-sam-taxes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCr0pWGXjFquC9KRe_x_1U7_gZtbEt2nFpVvnpZidmMm37WcH8OYViVHmW8ypTKBE-UvpTyIJ2DDhq75auNBHCgdDSY1TqwTioV_llKUP0s97WqiiT1ZYVdorK8yDZHzgiZ9YqVIyQW_va/s400/uncle-sam-taxes.jpg" width="338" /></a></div><i>No I didn't.</i> <br />
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You see, my dad is a CPA and my mom is a doer. So my college years my mom did my taxes, and after that my dad did them. My taxes are simple (except for the years I worked in two states) and neither one of them ever gave me the impression that this was a big chore for them. My mom was already doing her more complicated taxes anyway, and my dad was already doing hundreds of people's taxes anyway.<br />
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But this year my dad got a new job as the Treasurer for his town. And he was still going to do the taxes of a lot of his clients in addition to that this year. He didn't want to pass them off to someone else in his old company. And two other things happened. Mr. Renaissance, who does his own more complicated taxes, said we could do them ourselves really easily. And I thought, "hmmm, maybe I could save my dad a few minutes from work this year." I also asked Mr. Renaissance, "By 'ourselves' you mean you do them while I hang out nearby? Cause I don't want to do my taxes". I'm in my early thirties and have never done anything more than collect all the appropriate documents, send a fax, and sign on the post-it-noted line. And this has felt like a little amazing luxury that I do not want to give up. "I don't do my taxes" is now a small part of my identity. If I don't want to burden my dad with it, and Mr. Renaissance isn't straight up offering to do it, I'm going straight to a professional. That's how much I'm invested in this. <br />
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Anyway, this weekend Mr. Renaissance filed my taxes (after a few calls to my dad for details from last year). I was somewhere nearby cleaning the house or doing laundry or feeding the dogs. All I did was collect my documents and provide my identifying information, and still I got frustrated with the process. Whatever.<br />
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But I'm getting money back (like always!) and my self-identity was left undisturbed. A win-win.Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-70773261751127407602012-04-08T16:03:00.000-07:002012-04-08T16:03:22.110-07:00StressI feel like I've expressed that my job is stressful. It is a LARGE project that I have taken on for my post-doc. A large project where several of the pieces have either never been done before, never been done at this scale, or never been done in this way. And yes, that's science, do something that's never been done before, but just for the record, you will usually retain a little more of your sanity if you attempt this a bit more incrementally. <br />
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I've got a lot going on there - computer programming, leading several pieces of the project, working collaboratively with <i>many</i> other people, making sure other people are getting their parts done at least somewhat within the timeframe, reading papers, writing papers, going to seminars, organizing the structure of the project and reorganizing the structure of the project, figuring out the details of how to simulate about five surveys for 3 types of assessment, organizing appropriate meetings, etc.<br />
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And I had to go to Alaska last week for a meeting. So add packing, travel, attending talks, talking to a bunch of people, and meeting with my 2 bosses (but not at the same time of course!). <br />
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A lot of people have stressful jobs. And thank goodness that my living situation is calm and good. But there are other things going on too.<br />
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1. New relationship<br />
2. House renovation<br />
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To explain...<br />
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The new relationship is great. We're good together, he's a great person, we love each other, and have very similar goals. I found it all and am quite surprised and happy about it. But, we just moved in together. We just got engaged. He just finished going through a divorce, moved, and changed jobs. That's a lot of shit kicked up. We somewhat recently went to a couples counselor to get some stuff ironed out before those kind of things become big problems (his idea, which is another reason to love him), and she said that after couples get engaged it is incredibly common that it stirs shit up. Same with getting married and having kids. Those milestones kick up the shit in a relationship. I sighed a sigh of relief. We're normal!<br />
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Anyway, we both obviously have been pretty hurt and disappointed in previous relationships and we both wheeled some baggage in with us. Sometimes his baggage starts a fight with my baggage. Or vice versa. The challenge sometimes is to realize when that's happening. As in, sometimes Person A needs to realize that his/her nuclear-sized reaction to a particular trigger is not because of Person B's multiple transgressions<i> </i>(in fact it may be the first time Person B has done this at all), but because it is in Person A's history that he/she has had to deal with it way more than his/her fair share. Perhaps in a previous relationship it was a common reoccurance that was particularly hurtful. That sort of thing. <br />
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And you know, relationships take time. Spending time together, being present for the other's ups and downs, being someone they can count on, working toward common goals, and having happy times ;) and not so happy times (see above). <br />
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So of course you're left with less time than you're used to when you're single. Of course this is a good thing - companionship, sharing your life with someone, never feeling like a loser on a Friday night. A lot of singledom, at least when you're out of your twenties, feels like you're trying to have a party when 90% of your friends are out of town. But, the other side of the coin is that part of me really thrives on solitude. Like when there's a giant space on a weekend day that is my mission to creatively fill. Should I take a long walk with the dog? Do some writing? Start a project? Watch 5 hours of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Downton-Abbey-Episode-1/dp/B004KAQQ5E/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1333921398&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Downton Abbey</a>? <br />
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In my current life I still get to finish Season 2 of Downton Abbey in the span of a few weeks, and then after the last episode, skip into the living room to express my joy about Lady Mary and Matthew and launch into the short version of their story. Side note: Downton Abbey told by plot points sounds ridiculous. <br />
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And then there's <a href="http://oneweekendatatime.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">the house</a>. Don't get me wrong. I <i>love</i> the house. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGyt18lC4DswwAWcozXfO9BMisL5Rgh_RnSdK5ssjOfkpBwA9EItfBsUUCrw0jbDMtCDJxGRLeOUWK0mRt2tqUKMBn5JOD4Ni8Df96QY_Cqz4PGJ_b8GksZ9O7h0wXalk1oXdVVo4sH3k/s1600/new+elevation.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGyt18lC4DswwAWcozXfO9BMisL5Rgh_RnSdK5ssjOfkpBwA9EItfBsUUCrw0jbDMtCDJxGRLeOUWK0mRt2tqUKMBn5JOD4Ni8Df96QY_Cqz4PGJ_b8GksZ9O7h0wXalk1oXdVVo4sH3k/s640/new+elevation.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I love all the windows, the nooks, the public/private spaces, the efficiency of space, the cook's kitchen, the french doors, the utility room, the under stairs pantry, the library corner in the living room,</div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">the large master bedroom window, my walk-in closet, the beautiful master bath, the small open room at the top of the stairs, and that we've got 3 bedrooms and 3 baths. It will be perfect to live in and grow in. When we met with the architect and I told him everything I loved, he came back with these plans and I lit up like a LED diamond ring. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFsZupEPPIWyqCEzAs9VQUJ72XY0hCS5tslWRSy2_qx8I7977tRfPWLfbbNa_PL0DodO7tpYiFw79JOjnMhXd1TSwmfYqZCuadedv0pJkB4S_mCnIgWv0FXRWUzuhH0pll92Z2FGMlu7E/s1600/new+second.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFsZupEPPIWyqCEzAs9VQUJ72XY0hCS5tslWRSy2_qx8I7977tRfPWLfbbNa_PL0DodO7tpYiFw79JOjnMhXd1TSwmfYqZCuadedv0pJkB4S_mCnIgWv0FXRWUzuhH0pll92Z2FGMlu7E/s640/new+second.JPG" width="510" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But yes, building a house is stressful. Stressful to a relationship and personally. And if you're doing most of the work yourselves on top of stressful full-time jobs it's even more so. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There's of course the stress of money. A <i>lot </i>of money gets spent. And we've had to realize that our best move is to build just the first story now and live in that for a couple years before adding the second story. This means we'll have a temporary bedroom in the space where the stairs and library nook will eventually go. But the kitchen will be done. When I get stressed about the state of flux in the house I will barricade myself in the finished kitchen. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The stress of money also comes up when you're deciding on building materials. And even though one of you is very flexible about letting the other one have her dream family home, you will still have arguments about windows*. As in, one of us ideally wants all the windows (aside from in the bedrooms which <i>have</i> to open to meet code, and in the bathroom and utility rooms to vent weird smells) to be fixed (i.e. don't open) in order to save costs and decrease heat leakiness. The other of us wants windows to open so that we can let the outside in on our limited Pacific Northwest beautiful days, so that we can feel the breeze run through the house and smell the flowers in the front yard, and so that we can yell at the kids without having to run outside. We'll come to a compromise, but I'm still standing my ground that a living room needs 1-2 windows that open. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And then there's the stress of time. Weekends are either spent entirely at the house working, or spent feeling guilty about not working on the house. I've started to feel like my life is consists of work, working on the house, trying to keep the rental house somewhat clean and mostly failing, eating fast food, watching crap TV (I love crap TV), and sleeping. Bags don't get unpacked until a week later, laundry doesn't get done until it takes 8 loads, time spent together is either the work or decompressing from work variety, social lives get neglected, and healthy home-cooked meals don't get made. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We were recently exhausted at 6pm on a Saturday (after not even working on the house that day), and one of us had a mini-meltdown about coffee grounds at K-Mart, and one of us had a less-mini-meltdown at home afterwards about Cabela's. Yes, I cried about Cabela's.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So stress. Yeah, I've got it. My plan to deal with it is to:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A. Exercise, <i>hard</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">B. Rebalance my life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">C. Spend too much money in the pastry/cake section of Whole Foods. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">D. Realize this is the stress of over-abundance?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But that's all I have to say for now - got to get back to the laundry.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">* Windows 101: Do you want vinyl ($), fiberglass ($$), or fiberglass/wood ($$$)? Do you want fixed ($), awning ($$), single hung ($$), casement ($$$) or double hung ($$$$)? What do you want the wooden panes to look like? Do you want triple-paned glass ($$$$)? </div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-83119703251824377342012-04-02T23:35:00.002-07:002012-04-02T23:58:22.881-07:00A few recent picsHello friends! Haven't seen you much these days. Where ya' been? Well, pretty much everything of note lately (that I've had any time at all to write about) has been going on over at the house blog - <a href="http://oneweekendatatime.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">oneweekendatatime</a>. Head over there for some house updates. We've been working pretty much all weekend days at the house - and some other time on top of that. So I've been quite busy. Work, house, relationship duties (knowwhatI'msayin'?), a little time to myself once and awhile, that's about what's been happening. <br />
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But here's a few things we've also been up to (in pictures):<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYs-l5ldUdSIhB7CCmvSC6xf_glm_K2xRM-NpPEU42tW3hTQ6vkjDj3xaa3SfsdWkkuWSY3i8c2LgLHW-J5EhrhZVOL2hFs_jNDZg9OKLWwTWwmsn5qSdUzpEXbsuZwlU7AdT7tMMHlXY/s1600/IMG_0259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYs-l5ldUdSIhB7CCmvSC6xf_glm_K2xRM-NpPEU42tW3hTQ6vkjDj3xaa3SfsdWkkuWSY3i8c2LgLHW-J5EhrhZVOL2hFs_jNDZg9OKLWwTWwmsn5qSdUzpEXbsuZwlU7AdT7tMMHlXY/s640/IMG_0259.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We've started having <i>some</i> spring days!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXa_qzWWmooi3QCRooXE3wWEErlqSs7P3AyJyikOlwD3OA2S2_4RZqRiGAemKi3Rv3TzjHycSLtLYxthI-6O9Jc-OZMEnaoyOC2QfLV7bDmYXbqvKWa3sRiWuExzJC08uxseE4sxnQEIj/s1600/IMG_0276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXa_qzWWmooi3QCRooXE3wWEErlqSs7P3AyJyikOlwD3OA2S2_4RZqRiGAemKi3Rv3TzjHycSLtLYxthI-6O9Jc-OZMEnaoyOC2QfLV7bDmYXbqvKWa3sRiWuExzJC08uxseE4sxnQEIj/s640/IMG_0276.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Went with The Violent Offender, The Shutterbug, Mr. Renaissance and our new friend to <a href="http://leslieandthelys.com/" target="_blank">Leslie and the Lys</a>!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnd4vZI3IgmVJX0_4-rD1ZYXbuwQejKAnzEnUyDaPUL-mmxHroEBPwe3-ePiBzHV7SdhqdGN5MJn-k1sh1G7ytwjHf4beA9_p_oyWgDCfDnvQSPf5h069hOfiuGULEAtLPyATjYOKH9LGj/s1600/IMG_0277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnd4vZI3IgmVJX0_4-rD1ZYXbuwQejKAnzEnUyDaPUL-mmxHroEBPwe3-ePiBzHV7SdhqdGN5MJn-k1sh1G7ytwjHf4beA9_p_oyWgDCfDnvQSPf5h069hOfiuGULEAtLPyATjYOKH9LGj/s400/IMG_0277.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah, Space needle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8-4nMmFkMaTq8UdNzbit1NUvlkvsQ_pipzDop-AKBRRIrTldJc-2BQYS37q1reIxV928KN56ecRgvVG2hEQKrw3DNux7yZtpLa9-QYAZkDZ12D0sDu62OLJFv4wI33cvITk-PXagZHDs/s1600/IMG_0418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8-4nMmFkMaTq8UdNzbit1NUvlkvsQ_pipzDop-AKBRRIrTldJc-2BQYS37q1reIxV928KN56ecRgvVG2hEQKrw3DNux7yZtpLa9-QYAZkDZ12D0sDu62OLJFv4wI33cvITk-PXagZHDs/s640/IMG_0418.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'll give you one guess who did this to him.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSA8mvJig5iGD6Pv0984I3bv5ofcOMQdVqc5VlwsAWj65Fxv10eRE-JN4T6Eb67jYg3awJvhPpIxllhz4oB7f4X9vgZG3OpcnDzQeFGXwieJHTI-f-lxIVsmM9vQz4DZcrbTEHimRL9bh/s1600/IMG_0438.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSA8mvJig5iGD6Pv0984I3bv5ofcOMQdVqc5VlwsAWj65Fxv10eRE-JN4T6Eb67jYg3awJvhPpIxllhz4oB7f4X9vgZG3OpcnDzQeFGXwieJHTI-f-lxIVsmM9vQz4DZcrbTEHimRL9bh/s400/IMG_0438.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Using my new Kitchenaid to make St. Patrick's Day <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Chocolate-Stout-Cake-107105" target="_blank">Guinness chocolate cupcakes</a> with <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Carrot-Raisin-Cake-with-Irish-Cream-Frosting-10323" target="_blank">Bailey's frosting</a>!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8xJ5K1VwxjDq7kOTRgwC1uljVQrwEmOVZqrK7wu5hoxQb2lR9AYXGasKbjMnhoNa7A0sMLDDAhfVfAdfvE3hhtQ1sa0zztWbZC1MhSyfrH1xfueoF1E7OB1bGRmrVH8Qnu1Rj40248Kz/s1600/IMG_0472.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8xJ5K1VwxjDq7kOTRgwC1uljVQrwEmOVZqrK7wu5hoxQb2lR9AYXGasKbjMnhoNa7A0sMLDDAhfVfAdfvE3hhtQ1sa0zztWbZC1MhSyfrH1xfueoF1E7OB1bGRmrVH8Qnu1Rj40248Kz/s640/IMG_0472.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bubba went to an agility workshop and he looooooved it. This is him just dying to go replace that other dog. He was taking too long to figure it out and Bubba thought his chance should have been over. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-79514522699509345782012-03-12T11:44:00.000-07:002012-03-12T11:44:25.615-07:00Fun!Maybe I'll make you some of this guacamole some day...<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/FQMO6vjmkyI" width="640"></iframe><br />
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(Found over at <a href="http://www.seriouseats.com/2012/03/video-fresh-guacamole-by-pes-stop-motion-animation.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+seriouseatsfeaturesvideos+%28Serious+Eats%29&utm_content=Google+Reader">Serious Eats</a> during my morning rotation)Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-74401189424344824022012-03-08T23:11:00.000-08:002012-03-08T23:11:00.181-08:00Sorry for having a vaginaIn lieu of posting a whole tirade about: misogyny in America; and insurance not covering birth control; and about how birth control reduces abortions (which given that uber-Conservatives don't give a shit about this just proves it's not about babies, it's about keeping women in their place); and about how without birth control women must either be celibate or not have careers; and how it's a panel of men making these decisions; and about how apparently we're not even going to mention the hypocrisy of Viagra; and about how if men are allowed to have sex without being called slutty, but women are not, then men should have sex with men? wait, you're against that too? hmmm...<br />
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In lieu of all that, because I'm currently too busy making science and designing my dream kitchen (only one of those things is Conservative-sanctioned), j<a href="http://annfriedman.com/blog/slutty-women-gifable-0">ust go here</a>. <br />
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It's my favorite thing this week.Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-60067105438193322412012-02-18T15:00:00.000-08:002012-02-18T15:02:03.384-08:00I can haz chickenz?We've got some new creatures at the house. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv5I_F3pHl3HFhoU1GYubONBKz5V4wTxlTw7BFP133rXnw3KFMQdSML4NUGulpt5ow0ZAtMwStm_xiZFRKkYjKHWFkcDpRLFhIhTDcAOOxrbmreRrQplW2KbApybg68nA0O_7eFydrLe0h/s1600/IMG_0251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv5I_F3pHl3HFhoU1GYubONBKz5V4wTxlTw7BFP133rXnw3KFMQdSML4NUGulpt5ow0ZAtMwStm_xiZFRKkYjKHWFkcDpRLFhIhTDcAOOxrbmreRrQplW2KbApybg68nA0O_7eFydrLe0h/s640/IMG_0251.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are the two normal chickens.</td></tr>
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Well, they're not exactly new. Mr. Renaissance has had them since this spring, but they finally got moved over to our rental house. <br />
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There are three, and the little one is not only quite little, but pretty much lacking any survival skills. She got here all muddy because the other chickens were pinning her down and picking on her and Mr. Renaissance decided she needed a bath. In the kitchen sink. <br />
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</div>She came out of the bath with her feathers all floofy and unable to see through them. So then I had to give her a ponytail on the top of her head so she can see. Then she finally started eating the food that was right in front of her.<br />
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We also decided she shouldn't be let back outside all wet from her bath. So she stayed inside the first night in a plastic bin on the freezer. <br />
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Bubba was quite interested in this chicken during the whole process. He was <i>dying</i> to get his teeth around her neck. The other two chickens, he doesn't care about at all; they're as big as he is and he knows a losing battle when he sees it. But the little one... yoinks. He tried so hard to get his paws on that one. <br />
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He stared at Mr. Renaissance during the chicken bath portion of the evening, then stared at the top of the freezer when she was put up there for the night. You could see his little wheels turning, trying to figure out how to get to her. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object class="BLOGGER-picasa-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGYDddzhBYvLrI5HJFZPHlJBvOmolDPlrvle3-rI1Ep_Usxd4993EziurA_wdsZ8P6r92nrWl3rm3CzqPFR6ZfNJbMRCmHc5qm4vdYe8lPzyWN1B3Z3rEC4H5P6lFJFrUvIYOiKUmBnUxD/s1600/IMG_0095-1.m4v" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fv23.nonxt2.googlevideo.com%2Fvideoplayback%3Fid%3D771fac9d8aa3b025%26itag%3D18%26source%3Dpicasa%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329621016%26sparams%3Did%2Citag%2Csource%2Cip%2Cipbits%2Cexpire%26signature%3D953DFA10BE941962963BEBC48C954152A4D0C3CE.B05A1EC29A0F153FBF8994B135B7EA446F3BC973%26key%3Dlh1" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fv23.nonxt2.googlevideo.com%2Fvideoplayback%3Fid%3D771fac9d8aa3b025%26itag%3D18%26source%3Dpicasa%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329621016%26sparams%3Did%2Citag%2Csource%2Cip%2Cipbits%2Cexpire%26signature%3D953DFA10BE941962963BEBC48C954152A4D0C3CE.B05A1EC29A0F153FBF8994B135B7EA446F3BC973%26key%3Dlh1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Bam! Smart little bugger. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So then we moved the chicken bin so that it was in the way of his landing spot on the freezer. I wanted to see him get all frustrated and think it through...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object class="BLOGGER-picasa-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwIuyhO8UgsGQ8I7ljwniMxG6cIb8xTAEtqu9AKFy__i7HNS8tKcaAWfDQNP5wXZtYZlh7uPuVhPdSgCED3S_uXm3S3PC5JuP-95O7AwwLZcX_wEIZSrkpLYpwAIs9KXOI7OrckH5Rfw4/s1600/IMG_0096.m4v" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fv18.nonxt7.googlevideo.com%2Fvideoplayback%3Fid%3D8fedb55917ea16d9%26itag%3D18%26source%3Dpicasa%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329621054%26sparams%3Did%2Citag%2Csource%2Cip%2Cipbits%2Cexpire%26signature%3DD09878927CB58ED2AC61D65B6671DBB58644B523.346BBDB13C8930527386537325D89AF90998D42C%26key%3Dlh1" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fv18.nonxt7.googlevideo.com%2Fvideoplayback%3Fid%3D8fedb55917ea16d9%26itag%3D18%26source%3Dpicasa%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329621054%26sparams%3Did%2Citag%2Csource%2Cip%2Cipbits%2Cexpire%26signature%3DD09878927CB58ED2AC61D65B6671DBB58644B523.346BBDB13C8930527386537325D89AF90998D42C%26key%3Dlh1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="text-align: left;">If you're going to frustrate him you better let him win. Sometimes living with a dog is like living with a Muppet. It's awesome. </span></div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-40904446332947417072012-02-16T13:23:00.000-08:002012-02-16T13:23:28.122-08:00How to glam up a rainy day.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Silver-tipped fingers...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhU6GRA162umXfbtggGj-pg0-dvt7I2nOhfDj8-NV9e4798r7X2A8XM-acKClhp8BfSwqSpPYDZZt-sqCcUHOAHsfhM34TwLTjVlnEaQpP8wA9mVcKmn3zqHEVYueO6ZjD77CLE2XmfV0E/s640/blogger-image-1763364168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhU6GRA162umXfbtggGj-pg0-dvt7I2nOhfDj8-NV9e4798r7X2A8XM-acKClhp8BfSwqSpPYDZZt-sqCcUHOAHsfhM34TwLTjVlnEaQpP8wA9mVcKmn3zqHEVYueO6ZjD77CLE2XmfV0E/s640/blogger-image-1763364168.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And eggplant-colored toes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsjOeY_ehHpKQjEiVYU1CK7T6CEQJ-Y_LQbBwwO-0Tf7q5tpReraRZhAXzBQ8ZQAlLeNgYnQobWvp_OxJxspupE_GXNcrI9ndc590HeemOh3hSIcUqc7b80jI1Wdd7amBHh83ZChlXX91Q/s640/blogger-image--926162113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsjOeY_ehHpKQjEiVYU1CK7T6CEQJ-Y_LQbBwwO-0Tf7q5tpReraRZhAXzBQ8ZQAlLeNgYnQobWvp_OxJxspupE_GXNcrI9ndc590HeemOh3hSIcUqc7b80jI1Wdd7amBHh83ZChlXX91Q/s640/blogger-image--926162113.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-41624267328957805272012-01-20T11:56:00.000-08:002012-01-20T11:56:07.407-08:00Good morning friends!<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/fljKx9nvrL4" width="640"></iframe><br />
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That is all.Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-86866272286913274672012-01-20T00:26:00.000-08:002012-01-20T00:26:17.834-08:00Mexico!Right now I'm still in Alaska, and due to the ice storm in Seattle my flight home tomorrow might be canceled. :( In better news, Bajabucky and I just split a surf and turf at dinner, I met two lovely new people, and I have a massage tomorrow at noon courtesy of my very sweet fiancé. The massage is well needed by the way because: A. it's been almost a year; and B. I could barely move my neck at all last weekend without scorching pain. Thank goodness the sweet fiancé also had muscle relaxers.<br />
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Anyway. Did I mention it's -3 degrees here right now? Which has got me really missing a couple weeks ago when we were in Mexico.<br />
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In Mexico! For Hoeface's 30th birthday with Slutbag and a dozen other friends. It was pretty epic and involved a horribly swollen ankle injured the first night on a bar trampoline, one of us going missing because he walked home from the bar in rural Baja, a <i>shredded </i>rental car tire, a rental car transmission crushed from the underside by a dirt road rock (this involved a car that would no longer shift, let alone move, followed by a tow by a local mechanic, terror at the potential bill to fix it, a possible day trip into Cabo San Lucas to fix the transmission by an incredibly patient, adventurous, and responsible man, and an ultimate car switch 3 miles from our house by the rental agency and subsequent <b>zero</b> charges due to the foresight of paying for the extra extra insurance), the owner of the rental house getting peed on by one of us, some naked hot tub time, and a horribly hungover drive to the airport in which the car had to be stopped four times.<br />
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But we had a lot to celebrate - between the 14 of us we had a birthday, an engagement, a pregnancy, a new job, and a promotion. I didn't think anything like my 30th birthday would be seen again. But it has. Yes, yes, it has. <br />
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When we first got to Mexico Mr. Renaissance and Slutbag and I stopped at a mega-mart for supplies - including flip flops and a swimsuit for him (the man needs more vacations I think!) and a birthday cake for Hoeface.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbFryMA_lM1s8O56hWI1VSYnq7TcZo__4zMQm5lq5jvkZ3TcJ7Z4kkkMVz0ea0sKxyx7PSMzcgYHdD2UpVgBIy-zyndd2cu9TiLJCf_N5HynZsJr9KOwHKhQgXpV_LD_bYQ8o1ZR7UVo_U/s1600/IMG_1220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbFryMA_lM1s8O56hWI1VSYnq7TcZo__4zMQm5lq5jvkZ3TcJ7Z4kkkMVz0ea0sKxyx7PSMzcgYHdD2UpVgBIy-zyndd2cu9TiLJCf_N5HynZsJr9KOwHKhQgXpV_LD_bYQ8o1ZR7UVo_U/s400/IMG_1220.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are shoes. We did not buy them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwffkWS-a769Vtf4qAqulIzZB8m0GMlg7BI33qiSiV1WXMYzA4QE0o54CVb3PSdIhSgl1mHXoOnqIFLLy5lcfrJ_PmFIHCabbDATA1kC5I2yf-9cfJBDnoqivFrDWxoZdU0MZPnlkIvoRO/s1600/IMG_3320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwffkWS-a769Vtf4qAqulIzZB8m0GMlg7BI33qiSiV1WXMYzA4QE0o54CVb3PSdIhSgl1mHXoOnqIFLLy5lcfrJ_PmFIHCabbDATA1kC5I2yf-9cfJBDnoqivFrDWxoZdU0MZPnlkIvoRO/s400/IMG_3320.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the grocery parking lot had beautiful views.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The house was beautiful, right on the beach, held 14 people, and cost $35/person/night. There were surfboards, kayaks, and a wood fired concrete hot tub.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GMAsK419-4tzagaTmBUceiXykU-pDOWcyaw9dt-hnQIRDvS2dKgHHj-uSwPd-q5bR2AhJ9IDgV4oOPpL8MaUuyBXB3tK_ynaxTuN9-QfONeVttAej0nTKmswJG3jHSCefX8P27_mo_BW/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-01-19+at+1.42.42+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_GMAsK419-4tzagaTmBUceiXykU-pDOWcyaw9dt-hnQIRDvS2dKgHHj-uSwPd-q5bR2AhJ9IDgV4oOPpL8MaUuyBXB3tK_ynaxTuN9-QfONeVttAej0nTKmswJG3jHSCefX8P27_mo_BW/s640/Screen+Shot+2012-01-19+at+1.42.42+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZIO4ZMUe3XFm6nykafZ9Yt7BsA1ntJ9d4VuWSok-9NZxCsG1-LT7nEll8VxnAZmL3PkV1ZludgR7_DMpzLOW0cY_QroI_HsQ1H3n_QaH7_mRS5dYF9LlJPingyAAgurMh-JHWaNqMOBtm/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-01-19+at+12.28.04+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZIO4ZMUe3XFm6nykafZ9Yt7BsA1ntJ9d4VuWSok-9NZxCsG1-LT7nEll8VxnAZmL3PkV1ZludgR7_DMpzLOW0cY_QroI_HsQ1H3n_QaH7_mRS5dYF9LlJPingyAAgurMh-JHWaNqMOBtm/s640/Screen+Shot+2012-01-19+at+12.28.04+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mr. Renaissance and I got one of the (mostly) private rooms, but to get to it we had to go through the single ladies' bedroom with just a sliding wooden door separating the two rooms. Where I'm going with this is that the ladies got to hear a lot of snoring. Which is kind of funny because as soon as a couple of weeks into dating him I already had it tuned out. So now I never even know if he snores or not because if I'm asleep I don't hear it. Thank god.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The surf at our house was <i>really</i> big. It was beautiful and the sound of the waves crashing was so amazing to fall asleep and wake up to, but it also meant we really couldn't get more than about knee deep safely. That was fun though.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJsGhfQJZ3VezWv-THu5_4XIMhLEzhmHeN6iir5SfppfvD2a-qBLy9aF65T36_0qX2a4WfBswCvI4XM1I_3Y0j9awiLI1GDqD_DRVniizbzRILsywAGebOkTe_OId4PKRtnuIK5zfe0cl/s1600/IMG_3342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJsGhfQJZ3VezWv-THu5_4XIMhLEzhmHeN6iir5SfppfvD2a-qBLy9aF65T36_0qX2a4WfBswCvI4XM1I_3Y0j9awiLI1GDqD_DRVniizbzRILsywAGebOkTe_OId4PKRtnuIK5zfe0cl/s640/IMG_3342.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXAWfSwn7o8zU19uFXXUni3OwuSjpU7MvOQwZI9GuOxoO5Mt45eLFMVA4KbgLuio1JMZ7e6KfyrNGEe-n68ixpES1WOzlAseDjJRZdp_xsB0958JNfwI4aX_jtIeaev48rRo8irD5hlw7n/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-01-19+at+1.43.37+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXAWfSwn7o8zU19uFXXUni3OwuSjpU7MvOQwZI9GuOxoO5Mt45eLFMVA4KbgLuio1JMZ7e6KfyrNGEe-n68ixpES1WOzlAseDjJRZdp_xsB0958JNfwI4aX_jtIeaev48rRo8irD5hlw7n/s640/Screen+Shot+2012-01-19+at+1.43.37+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnaxhT7-ozgSczCK0F18BgCXtGPEjzBauabXKkhcUA1xelOuoyk6f7EOg-3xv2JnpyKAMQK_mM2-NWtqn-YwahSaFjsmUL6n3FEuAsjLVBpF2QijUWE4NYtifr2qvrMqb3q7UdZE6vHe9f/s1600/IMG_3340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnaxhT7-ozgSczCK0F18BgCXtGPEjzBauabXKkhcUA1xelOuoyk6f7EOg-3xv2JnpyKAMQK_mM2-NWtqn-YwahSaFjsmUL6n3FEuAsjLVBpF2QijUWE4NYtifr2qvrMqb3q7UdZE6vHe9f/s640/IMG_3340.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I did way less of this than you might imagine. Sadly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So we went to a beginner surf break nearby. One with quite a few other people. We sat at a table with an umbrella all day and drank beer, and had a few snacks, and rented surfboards and boogie boards.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtBP9_hfpsZMxMPivUJRFspo4qS362-7pan1Zw-DlIFy6ihG_a4aATsaedPTSLu98lHJyBc_WxZ4SeTXECZI9CCn1bd2XWsVrGRR7WBao02vdnvsMxi6LnMUUBrntxEYmjqTBMsRA5QzB/s1600/IMG_3356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtBP9_hfpsZMxMPivUJRFspo4qS362-7pan1Zw-DlIFy6ihG_a4aATsaedPTSLu98lHJyBc_WxZ4SeTXECZI9CCn1bd2XWsVrGRR7WBao02vdnvsMxi6LnMUUBrntxEYmjqTBMsRA5QzB/s640/IMG_3356.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Lots of people went surfing, including Mr. Renaissance, Hoeface, and Slutbag. I didn't want to surf unless I could really spend a lot of time to learn (I do have a bit of self-awareness about how obsessive I am) so I passed. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV2UoknTi2hUqmXpD3h_VHAq7a86ft9iAW1tKMfLJZB-7mAOaojpZXX1FUoZuU0AH8Owq7-8JryvmSlr9R9UScAXhB_apIaY4uqs33MhdfY351F8LwdmL4HMBd6OauKY_Ebd_80nRn7e8Q/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-01-19+at+1.53.05+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV2UoknTi2hUqmXpD3h_VHAq7a86ft9iAW1tKMfLJZB-7mAOaojpZXX1FUoZuU0AH8Owq7-8JryvmSlr9R9UScAXhB_apIaY4uqs33MhdfY351F8LwdmL4HMBd6OauKY_Ebd_80nRn7e8Q/s640/Screen+Shot+2012-01-19+at+1.53.05+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0PIv6hpW577hm8AgJhvYiEPJeztXPy9LNQ-c3rXoPSsCBCGyMDfl1EeuDutc8qLz7ikn39gR0snx89UZKMfvTKLi0bDMqB4QNQPAA0BAFFvWPKJ6FSRGd2lCVVzlcg64pINHH1FcntpQX/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-01-19+at+1.53.26+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0PIv6hpW577hm8AgJhvYiEPJeztXPy9LNQ-c3rXoPSsCBCGyMDfl1EeuDutc8qLz7ikn39gR0snx89UZKMfvTKLi0bDMqB4QNQPAA0BAFFvWPKJ6FSRGd2lCVVzlcg64pINHH1FcntpQX/s640/Screen+Shot+2012-01-19+at+1.53.26+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I boogie boarded instead. And when I got tired of hauling that out through the surf I just swam and body boarded. That was way more fun. And I kind of accidentally got out into a pretty decent surf break and got a little bit rocked. That was also pretty fun. And I wore my swim goggles. Natch. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We also did a little shopping in Todos Santos, but didn't really take the time to shop at the edges of town where the decent prices were. So I just bought a magnet, and a couple Christmas presents, our first Christmas ornament, and some small gifts for the doggy sitters. Mr. Renaissance insisted on bringing back a sombrero for Bubba. Since he's part Mexican and all. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjImIjHnLtWmBBijD_5pFGqPI743wo39PVuTI4GrYfa17ZRaQjRrU4hn2ncZiYih_6Z1wkt-o7bby_RcN78xnJ53lMJ-1R90AVPyg7XSJCzK3twcyPtEifCCmz2v4k9y9cuHzuVpUBoY9Wr/s1600/IMG_0058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjImIjHnLtWmBBijD_5pFGqPI743wo39PVuTI4GrYfa17ZRaQjRrU4hn2ncZiYih_6Z1wkt-o7bby_RcN78xnJ53lMJ-1R90AVPyg7XSJCzK3twcyPtEifCCmz2v4k9y9cuHzuVpUBoY9Wr/s400/IMG_0058.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There is one soul in this house who loves it, one soul who hates it, and one soul who feels caught in the middle.</div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-90914315610047139082012-01-18T16:32:00.000-08:002012-01-18T16:32:28.088-08:00I'm in Alaska, b*tchAnd omg, is it cold.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6yLy_ravFY5LmneDMkfXHJqRSZRT2j4MNmcEYIQ9FK9mjg1RDrfblhydxvuWtlB-dy1eT5wxaX67utOMTx7jCilpHAxKjhjN56Ae4z57gMoR7tXbqv69ZAusI6F4q8LZg0YR8wZk8x-p1/s1600/IMG_0037.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6yLy_ravFY5LmneDMkfXHJqRSZRT2j4MNmcEYIQ9FK9mjg1RDrfblhydxvuWtlB-dy1eT5wxaX67utOMTx7jCilpHAxKjhjN56Ae4z57gMoR7tXbqv69ZAusI6F4q8LZg0YR8wZk8x-p1/s400/IMG_0037.PNG" width="265" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm here for a conference. A conference that is always held in January. My only guess as to why is that the hotel costs a lot less in the winter. That and many people aren't available in the summer due to fieldwork. But whatever. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I got here Sunday night and still wasn't done with my presentation that I had to give this morning. So I spent a couple days holed up in my hotel room ordering room service... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMzGs_1LBG5bnETKLhIUf-DqEdUTTkE3VSvfHXlnLGUkRiAL-2Ez9DwQRN4L_t8LeRjGj1QNCxPYRd0Jrf7bJ3WGy_nbd5tsGary62PxDUGZ4Ttx11_YQCO3SVXxd-iIMFL3f2a_xY7LM/s1600/IMG_0041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMzGs_1LBG5bnETKLhIUf-DqEdUTTkE3VSvfHXlnLGUkRiAL-2Ez9DwQRN4L_t8LeRjGj1QNCxPYRd0Jrf7bJ3WGy_nbd5tsGary62PxDUGZ4Ttx11_YQCO3SVXxd-iIMFL3f2a_xY7LM/s400/IMG_0041.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">and working like mad to finish my presentation by Tuesday. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is what the sky up here looks like at 9:30 am.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_IJ0b2CAlfEBCqJSZERdTgAAfbsI6fgAHOWR16Pxq2dv3d2aF88eysBTwM-NLRFFiQ-gj85_dlicFhh8PT8xCobkbF1VQ57mV8cIVWPLnHnamK46lqJP1n27pG3ZueJX5c_1PyhAba0jc/s1600/IMG_0042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_IJ0b2CAlfEBCqJSZERdTgAAfbsI6fgAHOWR16Pxq2dv3d2aF88eysBTwM-NLRFFiQ-gj85_dlicFhh8PT8xCobkbF1VQ57mV8cIVWPLnHnamK46lqJP1n27pG3ZueJX5c_1PyhAba0jc/s640/IMG_0042.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ah, finally some sun! I'm not going out there, though.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXTa1YaG92ZMZIFq7Crny0J3pihEMP_VXuHhSP-dg3D9RkLA4szm6crmB7RWlCJJ0WeKyIwTSB90n3qPO9rX1esxptiUn8ptS2fnBtWaDdr79mMs1cKif_-l-RrOrzVCln4pl33D7JeFGO/s1600/IMG_0044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXTa1YaG92ZMZIFq7Crny0J3pihEMP_VXuHhSP-dg3D9RkLA4szm6crmB7RWlCJJ0WeKyIwTSB90n3qPO9rX1esxptiUn8ptS2fnBtWaDdr79mMs1cKif_-l-RrOrzVCln4pl33D7JeFGO/s640/IMG_0044.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRCRfgHV82jMKt2QkYNHRi5TzXBdPQM5VIrbSIMjG2lv_WIzg0XiTYa4W97FEKT5-d0kxHyEPaBnYrY9oeL4aFX6v_TIlo6nmrxM3jqm0-AeFkb8tPYLlAU0xx1SWN06uOD5aWtIgO1mim/s1600/IMG_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRCRfgHV82jMKt2QkYNHRi5TzXBdPQM5VIrbSIMjG2lv_WIzg0XiTYa4W97FEKT5-d0kxHyEPaBnYrY9oeL4aFX6v_TIlo6nmrxM3jqm0-AeFkb8tPYLlAU0xx1SWN06uOD5aWtIgO1mim/s640/IMG_0043.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So then Tuesday I spent most of the day practicing my presentation. Oh boy, are the first few times you practice a presentation painful! Then that evening I walked 4 blocks to the poster session. In those 4 blocks my face went numb. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKT5Q0KaXpdcS87KOjisKZpKpOHvAhieerua29QPrGlUsDqyxSi3Dy5LkBTTGvAyIwYMk5bK-mSIvSJW9XAoM2POsnhMQf5lymn0HO3qf6XN1y6xHCCjwxM0qCpacqzkR8n6FjGooVjOzt/s1600/IMG_0034.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKT5Q0KaXpdcS87KOjisKZpKpOHvAhieerua29QPrGlUsDqyxSi3Dy5LkBTTGvAyIwYMk5bK-mSIvSJW9XAoM2POsnhMQf5lymn0HO3qf6XN1y6xHCCjwxM0qCpacqzkR8n6FjGooVjOzt/s640/IMG_0034.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Look, Bajabucky is here!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihadvV27WEnFzFmYjfKObPQFMoxfcc0Z5WlGYmEQ3FYSq7KoDtfeTEzrcO8TCXC-cpIPo8bP7qMFTE5IZTupirgSYDYkYAiP7oSQhYiumq4bG_IczlRPDeKlK1jEisorBv9pKQtWoMgMvi/s1600/IMG_0038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihadvV27WEnFzFmYjfKObPQFMoxfcc0Z5WlGYmEQ3FYSq7KoDtfeTEzrcO8TCXC-cpIPo8bP7qMFTE5IZTupirgSYDYkYAiP7oSQhYiumq4bG_IczlRPDeKlK1jEisorBv9pKQtWoMgMvi/s640/IMG_0038.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We're going to hang out later. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So this morning I got up at 6:45 to have time to practice my talk and get downstairs by 8 am for the beginning of my session. My talk went well but I was a little bit terrified. The ratio of audience size to my comfort level with the topic was waaay higher than I'm used to. This meeting has only one talk at a time in a large ballroom. So there were probably over a hundred people in the room. And up until, oh, about Monday, I didn't quite understand the subject in all the detail necessary to speak on it. But I did ok. Some people even said I did well, and that it was "well organized" and "accessible". Phew. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm glad that's over with.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now I'm just hoping I can fly back Friday what with all the snow we've gotten on the home front. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">See?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLKDgctb52tMuqpHPzoGcB7WTG9cBbqdLQmXnA3vumvSj9IFqYowSj8uGT85JOL__NGmSuQS4TtPRlbrqsEeI6V75A75CcYYvgEwMOTty03fKtgqKlw_zGLdMaoZlXd7V9Na93ZWODPcye/s1600/IMG_0050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLKDgctb52tMuqpHPzoGcB7WTG9cBbqdLQmXnA3vumvSj9IFqYowSj8uGT85JOL__NGmSuQS4TtPRlbrqsEeI6V75A75CcYYvgEwMOTty03fKtgqKlw_zGLdMaoZlXd7V9Na93ZWODPcye/s400/IMG_0050.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mr. Renaissance is keeping me updated on adorable Bubba photos. Thank goodness. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Over and out.</div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-20876317329730202922012-01-04T21:23:00.000-08:002012-01-05T13:44:35.837-08:00I guess he likes it!Well we're starting 2012 off with a bang here friends! Mr. Renaissance over here put a ring on it! We had reservations at Joule on New Year's Eve for their special menu. We were going to have a nice casual NYE together. And because it was a nice dinner I wore a black dress, blue tights, and heels. Mr. Renaissance said he wanted to stop by the house renovation because he wanted to check on some things before dinner. I said sure, no problem. <br />
<br />
Once there, he turned some lights off, checked out his work for the day, then grabbed me on my way back into the car. And right there on the sidewalk in front of the house he's building for us, in which we plan to build a home and family and live for 40 years, he told me how much I mean to him (at this point I thought this was just a sweet way to start 2012), got down on one knee (at which point I was like, "wait, what?"), pulled out a ring (I was mightily confused that he would have had a ring made already), and asked if I would marry him.<br />
<br />
So I said, "Of course I will". And then he laughed at me. <br />
<br />
Here's my ring!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gCFaycFAYjM/TwUjFgTC59I/AAAAAAAACEI/UysAfjrnP3M/s1600/IMG_0028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gCFaycFAYjM/TwUjFgTC59I/AAAAAAAACEI/UysAfjrnP3M/s640/IMG_0028.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's a round aquamarine set in a band of diamonds. Of course my engagement ring would be blue, amIright? It couldn't be more perfect. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Look, it doesn't even fit on his pinkie. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZQ0URMTPhgq4U_NexA83hFTb9tbs-Zw6ZDH4k231ZkB05aX6XOJ-1qX7Kx6xDobZ36AwmGUWzokWMUqBegdy-m-TiSPjQROaSHSQwQ_VVtMkLFYSoL4Wec322gn7OU6xUXGnW7CRmkbmg/s1600/IMG_0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZQ0URMTPhgq4U_NexA83hFTb9tbs-Zw6ZDH4k231ZkB05aX6XOJ-1qX7Kx6xDobZ36AwmGUWzokWMUqBegdy-m-TiSPjQROaSHSQwQ_VVtMkLFYSoL4Wec322gn7OU6xUXGnW7CRmkbmg/s640/IMG_0009.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We finished the night off with an awesome dinner, then dancing at R Place with The Violent Offender. And asleep by 4am. Not exactly the mild night I was expecting.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And then we started 2012 with breakfast at our new favorite neighborhood joint, with texts and calls to friends and family. And he told me all the details of his secret ring designing. And that he brought the ring back and showed it to almost my entire family without me being any the wiser. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQzL0jEPo_7IIqPJKKPd52dlfuWJCvfdbbJ-SPCDlZAPG-9EooqkNxvKxsmOg92Oev3MMAtznQx_VKDqGIfGYAiP6qxLcfC5YL2IjY53OlWU08RbEyoQRs1Dowev0NfpFgp9gjLxJcvia8/s1600/IMG_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQzL0jEPo_7IIqPJKKPd52dlfuWJCvfdbbJ-SPCDlZAPG-9EooqkNxvKxsmOg92Oev3MMAtznQx_VKDqGIfGYAiP6qxLcfC5YL2IjY53OlWU08RbEyoQRs1Dowev0NfpFgp9gjLxJcvia8/s640/IMG_0025.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
So obviously that is the big news over here! There is so much more to tell you though, so I'll get on that soon. But not like tomorrow soon because we're going to Mexico on Friday to celebrate Hoeface's 30th with Slutbag and some more friends. <br />
<br />
And mark your calendars for sometime in 2013 to go someplace great to celebrate with Mr. Renaissance and myself the official binding of our happy union. Which is to say, we need to get this house done before we start planning a wedding.Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-55274078862714921012011-12-17T01:43:00.000-08:002011-12-17T01:43:43.723-08:00What a week. Or two. Three, actually.Hello all,<br />
<br />
So this is Mr Renaissance writing this post. Why am I writing this? Mostly because the last few weeks have been rather stressful and dear Eliska hasn't the time or energy to tell this story anymore. So if you'll allow me, I'll be your trusted storyteller for this tale.<br />
<br />
It all started in November, when one of the residents of the house (Lucille Two) decided to move out with a month's notice. Which not a big deal in and of itself, but it is where we start.<br />
<br />
That same month, the Baker was unable to pay his rent. He had been laid off from his job at the beloved cupcake store. The Baker had recently ruined several batches of cupcakes at work and had laid the blame on another employee, but the managers unfairly blamed him.<br />
<br />
We felt bad for the Baker and assumed his story was true. I had a little suspicion though, as the Baker is a HEAVY HEAVY pot smoker, and frankly, pilfered a lot of stuff from work. So much that I think he was likely fired more for the petty theft than the ruined cupcakes.<br />
<br />
So the Baker tells us that he contacted the landlord and would pay the late fee along with his rent later in the month. He also said he would pay the utilities late as well, he was just in a weird place with the paycheck cycles being out of whack with the new job. Sounds believable, right? And he's a nice guy, so we give him the benefit of the doubt.<br />
<br />
As the month continues on, the Baker begins openly stealing food and other goods from the house. Frankly, the entire house would gladly help the Baker, if he would ask. Instead he simply steals.<br />
<br />
The kicker is that he is CONSTANTLY stoned. Quite literally he smokes from the moment he wakes until the moment he goes to bed. So he can afford pot, but not dog food for his 100lb rottweiler. This also means he has <i>plenty</i> of time to actually do his household chores each week. Instead Eliska has to "remind" him if she's in the mood to have them done. We can all imagine how well this was going over.<br />
<br />
As the month wears on, the house has a meeting to discuss the "communal" food to remove any confusion in the Bakers mind. Unfortunately the Baker doesn't put two and two together and continues to steal food, detergent, dog food and whatever else is in the common areas of the house.<br />
<br />
This reaches a tipping point, and between the empty room from Lucille Two and the Baker not paying rent, it would be incredibly difficult for the remaining two housemates to make the rent. So the decision is made that the Baker needs to move out at the end of December and they would need to find a more stable roommate.<br />
<br />
So a house meeting was called and it was gently explained that things weren't working out with the Baker. He was told that it would be better if he would find a new place to live. He was surprised, threw up his hands and yelled "LAME" in a loud voice and ran upstairs. He was asked to discuss details but instead said there was nothing to discuss, he would move out and that was that.<br />
<br />
This seemed like it might actually work for a few small, hopeful moments.<br />
<br />
But this hope was quickly shattered when he then began turning the heat on full blast with open windows in 30 degree weather. It was apparent that he was interested in costing the house as much as possible before he left.<br />
<br />
His behavior deteriorated to the point that we realized allowing him to stay through December was not tenable, so he was asked to come downstairs to discuss the details of his departure. He refused to leave his room. This prompted a call with a lawyer to understand our rights, his rights and possible courses of actions. Effectively what we learned is that only the landlord could affect his eviction and even that process has very clear guidelines and in the worst case, may take several months.<br />
<br />
The lawyer advised that if there was theft taking place, then it should be reported to the authorities and a subsequent restraining order could be filed. So a quick call to the non-emergency line was made to file a police report.<br />
<br />
The police arrived and we discussed the situation. They very clearly indicated that the pilfering that had been occurring was difficult, if not impossible to report. He then told us that this situation is relatively common and the rest of the housemates are pretty powerless. He said that the only two options are to lock your goods and belongings in your room, or move out. There was little the police could do in cases like this. The officer was also the one to advise us that the eviction process can take "up to 3 months".<br />
<br />
The officers left and I went upstairs to see if I could talk with the Baker and convince him to accelerate or otherwise allow me to financially help him move on. (I can't reiterate how much of a toll this shitty housemate situation was taking on Eliska.)<br />
<br />
The conversation was not particularly fruitful, except to understand that he would move of his own accord, in his own time, and that he "would give us as much notice as he was given". WTH? And that this isn't the first time it has happened to him. So it was apparent he was better versed in how to handle the situation than we were. Touche Baker. Not only are you a shitty baker with poor ethical and moral standards, but you are enough of an asshole to inflict financial pain on those who call you on it.<br />
<br />
I relay this to Eliska, and after yells of "Lies!" about all that he tried to tell me and the excuses he gave, she said "ok, we're leaving". This was Tuesday afternoon.<br />
<br />
Wednesday morning, I rent a 14ft box van and park it next to the house. Eliska and the other roommate spend the day packing and loading the van while I work all day. Wednesday evening we look at three different places to rent.<br />
<br />
Thursday I stay home from work and assist in loading the van. Frankly, this was almost necessary, for as efficient as Eliska is at Tetris, this skill does not carry over to optimally loading a moving van [Editor's note: I call as evidence our new storage room, thank you very much]. It is fair to say at this point, although Eliska is packing, I am in charge of the loading and logistics.<br />
<br />
We spend at least 12 hours packing and loading the van on Thursday. By the time I am done, the van is literally packed, floor to ceiling. We spend the night in the place I've been living (I've been staying with a friend in his spare bedroom during the renovation). To say we were exhausted in an understatement.<br />
<br />
Friday morning we check out another place to rent, near my renovation. After that, we both go to work, and manage to schedule one more evening appointment to visit a second place near my renovation. Low and behold, that evening we visit quite possibly the perfect interim place for us to live. Its blocks from my renovation. It's less in rent than our previous rent budgets, and it's half a block from the local pub and used bookstore. It has two bedrooms, two baths, an office, dining area, fireplace, reasonably sized kitchen, and a small fenced front yard. Really it doesn't get any better.<br />
<br />
We knew instantly when we looked at it, that it was perfect, so I pulled out my checkbook and forced a deposit on the landlord. He was thrilled as he just listed the unit and was happy to have already found a tenant.<br />
<br />
As thrilling as this was, it also meant that there would be no rest, as we would need to disgorge the (filled to capacity) 14ft moving van into the new place. Thankfully it's a single story, ground level unit.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3felNDMNDZrObD3HytAK-RBwZKOr2h1hvmSrBRa7PnJRwRxCo2VBw6rdd9FF6_zqgaG8ab_KKikCXe2uv_1149GGy9a66VMUsBXjws79oCbyUiBQIsXHRDLyTWu25v_BHWxahlSoB1q6/s1600/IMG_1174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3felNDMNDZrObD3HytAK-RBwZKOr2h1hvmSrBRa7PnJRwRxCo2VBw6rdd9FF6_zqgaG8ab_KKikCXe2uv_1149GGy9a66VMUsBXjws79oCbyUiBQIsXHRDLyTWu25v_BHWxahlSoB1q6/s400/IMG_1174.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
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One of the few times I've asked for help in the last year, I called up a friend who offered to help us move and asked if he could help me unload the van. Well, in the span of two hours, with four people, we unloaded the van and were able to start unpacking.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQGuymNSBeDE_7DL7H5KdI4XnVulx_DuAu5xAw7LR3atkfslOuQogfD39_rK5TiuBIOYcA3t_2zt6X9Y_CSO8OHMXPAXIzgEqTaAEmu0tvPWIinrVbHsyxYYroS1kmhBr5oPGXRv1j-aJ/s1600/IMG_1175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQGuymNSBeDE_7DL7H5KdI4XnVulx_DuAu5xAw7LR3atkfslOuQogfD39_rK5TiuBIOYcA3t_2zt6X9Y_CSO8OHMXPAXIzgEqTaAEmu0tvPWIinrVbHsyxYYroS1kmhBr5oPGXRv1j-aJ/s640/IMG_1175.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
But all told, Eliska was thrilled. She would have her own kitchen again. A house that we could keep clean. And more importantly, a place we could keep warm! (Ok, maybe that's just me.) Also, being so close to the renovation would be sooo helpful to me working on it at night, after I get home from work.<br />
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I'll add one thing on a personal note. Even with all of this stress, although we both had moments of rage and anxiety, we didn't fight once. We had one "moment", but neither of us would even consider it a tiff.<br />
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So now that I have gotten all of the items unloaded and placed in appropriate rooms of the house, it was Eliska's turn to lead. She took over the organizing and it was my turn to follow.<br />
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Or more to the point, I would call it "into the maelstrom", as she went into overdrive, getting the whole house squared away. By Sunday, the bedroom and bathroom were completely done. By Tuesday, the kitchen was done. By Thursday the office and Friday, the front room.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGeg-wSJPOqK1iJr11-CRcrH-Q3rsuX9UevYrAQbtNSwcyifMegR19liiOrN3b0PFADMYE1z_u44e9dVHWbCfuh7Ph2fYHHyyn_munF-WU6BrmEFTuCx9HZX6BwGd7JQCwSn0qmiKqTj2/s1600/IMG_1182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGeg-wSJPOqK1iJr11-CRcrH-Q3rsuX9UevYrAQbtNSwcyifMegR19liiOrN3b0PFADMYE1z_u44e9dVHWbCfuh7Ph2fYHHyyn_munF-WU6BrmEFTuCx9HZX6BwGd7JQCwSn0qmiKqTj2/s400/IMG_1182.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
By Saturday I had moved in some of my belongings, namely a TV and XBox, which have become the center for entertainment in the living room.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXlkagmyG41a4f0sgBnUlmThvEBRF2qrCHAVIhyphenhyphenHBjBNfFGWfNYMizOTjYsM73U4h_wdtkvR2OUva__AUlFKhJs8_2sj70BoF6fgn_GzqZfe61FUefeON16MnKfWbWnR1sBW2G4RESm_Bh/s1600/IMG_1193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXlkagmyG41a4f0sgBnUlmThvEBRF2qrCHAVIhyphenhyphenHBjBNfFGWfNYMizOTjYsM73U4h_wdtkvR2OUva__AUlFKhJs8_2sj70BoF6fgn_GzqZfe61FUefeON16MnKfWbWnR1sBW2G4RESm_Bh/s640/IMG_1193.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
And it was done. Within a week and a half, we had made the decision to move, packed up, found a place, unpacked and settled in. That was last Saturday, for the record.<br />
<br />
And I know we are fully settled in. You know how I can tell? Just ask the dog.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig53tZSVevCD5gv6vEIckMtOh2CG5_p8e_fP8zHo4MZHXhpKOlTgBmdGUf2EadsmxmzSUYlfot1O2whM-8-E347k3WlbGR5_8_Z4rs355OKlBFxdZB2C_K_8poaYj_vptul2rNjbHIEwUP/s1600/IMG_1183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig53tZSVevCD5gv6vEIckMtOh2CG5_p8e_fP8zHo4MZHXhpKOlTgBmdGUf2EadsmxmzSUYlfot1O2whM-8-E347k3WlbGR5_8_Z4rs355OKlBFxdZB2C_K_8poaYj_vptul2rNjbHIEwUP/s640/IMG_1183.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-50917073707074932842011-12-15T00:43:00.001-08:002011-12-15T00:43:38.948-08:00Christmas is coming!This is the best thing ever.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/q4a9CKgLprQ" width="640"></iframe>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-50412867284883095942011-11-25T12:35:00.000-08:002011-11-25T12:35:06.707-08:00Sounds of love...definitely include a power washer that's been running on the front porch for almost an hour.Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-3004169677849656612011-11-21T17:10:00.000-08:002011-11-21T17:10:18.749-08:00OccupiedIt would be a bit of an understatement to say that what happened at UC Davis on November 18th has been occupying my thoughts. Of course by now you've heard what happened to a group of students at UC Davis protesting for the Occupy movement, the privatization of the University of California public education system, the proposed <b>81%</b> tuition increases, and in solidarity with the UC Berkeley students and professors whose non-violent protests were met with batons and beatings earlier in the month.<br />
<br />
These students were "occupying" The Quad (which is as you can imagine a large grassy public space in the middle of the university) with a small encampment of tents. They had received permission from Chancellor Linda Katehi to break the "no camping on University grounds" rule on previous nights. They went through the proper procedures for staging a peaceful protest. They had the support of the Student Association. Then on November 18th they received word from the Chancellor that they would have to remove their tents by 3:00 pm because of "serious health, safety and legal concerns". Naturally, as their point was to stage a peaceful protest, which may include civil disobedience, they decided to stay. The Chancellor sent in the University police to remove the tents and disband the protestors. These police, who on normal days spend their time issuing tickets for rolling through University stop signs or not having a front and back light on your bike, came in with riot helmets, batons, and teargas guns. According to reports and video, the students would not leave, the police started breaking down tents, a few students got arrested, and that's when the student protesters decided to sit in a circle around their tents and link arms. And then this is what happened.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6AdDLhPwpp4" width="640"></iframe><br />
<br />
Here's another angle.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/WmJmmnMkuEM" width="640"></iframe><br />
<br />
Students sitting in a circle on the ground had <a href="http://www.complex.com/city-guide/2011/11/fun-facts-about-the-pepper-spray-used-against-uc-davis-protesters">pepper spray</a> shot at them multiple times, some down their throats, which led many to vomit and cough up blood. Several of the students had to be seen by paramedics, and two were sent to the hospital. Many had effects (in terms of continued burning) for over 24 hours. This pepper spray is so strong and full of capaicinoid (the burning chemical in peppers) that it is made chemically to get the burning agent up that high. It's not quite as high as the concentration used in bear spray, but not far off either. <br />
<br />
Professor Nathan Brown wrote an incredibly thoughtful letter to the Chancellor decrying the incident and calling for her resignation. You should definitely <a href="http://bicyclebarricade.wordpress.com/2011/11/19/open-letter-to-chancellor-linda-p-b-katehi/">read it</a>. <br />
<br />
This <a href="http://boingboing.net/2011/11/20/ucdeyetwitness.html">interview</a> with one of the pepper-sprayed students is a must-read. He/she gives the play-by-play from the protesters point of view. <br />
<br />
From the <a href="http://www.boulderweekly.com/article-6976-hundreds-of-uc-davis-students-protest-pepper-spraying-by-police.html">Boulder Weekly</a>:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #525246; font-family: Tahoma, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Geoffrey Wildanger, 23, a graduate student in art history from Los Altos, said, "Three days ago, I was pepper sprayed. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but you know that already. What happened on Friday is not exceptional. Police brutality may not be the most common occurrence on UC Davis but it happens every day to poor people, women and people of color."</span></blockquote>And this <a href="http://www.davisenterprise.com/local-news/crime-fire-courts/the-worlds-view-of-uc-davis/">short article</a> from the Davis Enterprise is quite interesting. <br />
<br />
Professor Bob Ostertag has written an <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bob-ostertag/uc-davis-protest_b_1103039.html">article</a> about the incident on the Huffington Post. This is a must-read. Regarding the use of pepper spray use on criminals in prison:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">[R]egulations prohibit the use of pepper spray on inmates in all circumstances other than the immediate threat of violence. If a prisoner is seated, by definition the use of pepper spray is prohibited. Any prison guard who used pepper spray on a seated prisoner would face immediate disciplinary review for the use of excessive force.</span></blockquote>He also outlines one of the protesters' issues - the very large tuition increases.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"> Just six years ago, tuition at the University of California was $5357. Tuition is currently $12,192. According to current proposals, it will be $22,068 by 2015-2016.</span></blockquote>What this has to do with the Occupy Wall Street movement is quite simple. The State of California in is a severe budget crisis. You can easily argue that this budget crisis is exacerbated by severely inadequate tax revenues. If corporations and the 1% paid more in taxes, the burdens of the budget crisis would not be felt so strongly by lower- and middle-class citizens. Currently there are state worker furloughs, drastically reduced research budgets, and lay-offs. Slashed funding for state parks (which actually bring in quite a bit of tourist revenue). And slashed state funding to the "public" university system. With this revenue gone, the expenses of the UC System has to be found in other ways. Furloughs and salary and hiring freezes have been employed. Unfortunately, that does not cover it. With decreased state funding follows drastically reduced quality of education and/or increases in tuition. The "public" university system gets dismantled. Twenty thousand dollars a year for <i>in-state</i> tuition (currently out-of-state tuition in the UC system is $36,000 per year) is out of the league of a lot of qualified students . Accruing these kinds of loans is a major burden for professions in which a university degree is essential, but pay is not stellar (I'm thinking accountants, nurses, and teachers here - and this is probably because these are the professions of my parents).*<br />
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Let's focus on elementary-high school teachers here for a second. They're supposed to pay $22,000/year for their education in order to enter into jobs which pay barely more than that? How are they supposed to pay those loans off? How do we expect to have qualified teachers, especially in the math and sciences where people with these skills can get other jobs that <i>actually pay</i>? Teachers' salaries are laughable on their own, but with the added burden of an education system that will not give them a true public option and the loans that go along with that? As individuals, and as a society, we <i>need</i> people to do these jobs, but we expect them to do them practically for free. Meanwhile, we will not take care of or educate their children, because they don't have enough capital to pay for it. And if you can't pay, it's too bad for you, deadbeat.<br />
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Public universities, which were meant to bring a quality higher education out of the exclusive realm of the elite, are very quickly not going to exist in that respect at all. I can barely imagine a scenario 10-20 years from now, given they way we're going now - by which I mean <i>not valuing education as a nation at all, </i>in which it is possible to get a decent education without paying private school prices and tuitions from kindergarten through to college. And in that situation we've separated the rich from the poor even further. Further than now. And the education system now is already defined by inequities in class and capital. The difference is now, with hard work, you can still get by and get ahead by merit. That is eroding quickly. "Eroding" isn't even an appropriate word. "Destroy" is more accurate since it is more a function of neglect and greed than some natural process. <br />
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So let's review. These students were protesting the use of violence against peaceful protestors at Berkeley, and the blatant inequalities that seem to be exponentially increasing in this country. We've got corporations that do everything they possibly can to turn the biggest profit. That is the one and only bottom line. Mortgage companies had been basically swindling people into horrible real estate decisions to make a buck, and these kids are pepper sprayed in the face for breaking the "no camping on campus" rule. Based on all reports (excepting the University of California police department) and multiple videos showing what happened, the police were under no threat whatsoever. Their shields weren't down, their body language in no way depicts people under threat, and <i>the protesters seated on the ground with their heads bowed</i>. End of story. The pepper spray (pepper spray so potent that you and I can't buy it) was used at a cattle prod, or as a punishment. Haven't we set up a judicial system to fairly mete out punishment according to due process? I was under that impression. I was clearly naive. What has happened is that due process was not required for these kids, and either the UC Davis administration or police department got to decide on punishment on the fly - punishment for unauthorized camping. Meanwhile, the police officers who used what many of us would consider undue force without provocation, and what some of us would consider assault, are not going into the judicial system but instead are being "disciplined" by paid leave. <br />
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From the California Penal Code Section 12403.7:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq"><pre>(g) Any person who uses tear gas or tear gas weapons except in
self-defense is guilty of a public offense and is punishable by
imprisonment in a state prison for 16 months, or two or three years
or in a county jail not to exceed one year or by a fine not to exceed
one thousand dollars ($1,000), or by both the fine and imprisonment,
except that, if the use is against a peace officer, as defined in
Chapter 4.5 (commencing with Section 830) of Title 3 of Part 2,
engaged in the performance of his or her official duties and the
person committing the offense knows or reasonably should know that
the victim is a peace officer, the offense is punishable by
imprisonment in a state prison for 16 months or two or three years or
by a fine of one thousand dollars ($1,000), or by both the fine and
imprisonment.</pre></blockquote>Now of course there needs to be an aspect of the law that protects police officers when they are doing their duties, and of course their job sometimes requires the use of force. However force and violence are separate beasts - the use of violence should never, ever be taken lightly. The use of violence when it is not in self-defense should be inexcusable, even for police officers. Can you imagine what would have happened if one of the students sprayed Lt. Pike back with pepper spray? Would that have counted as self-defense? We all know that kid would be in jail. Police should be protected by the law in limited instances and when they are doing their duties within the law, but they should not be above it. That is not what we saw here, and it is not what we are seeing across the United States.<br />
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* As an aside, let's think about how much we each paid in tuition. Personally, I paid $3500/year at my state university in 1997-2001. Not because I couldn't get in anywhere else (in fact I was offered a partial scholarship at a private college in California), but because this in-state tuition is what I could afford without accruing loans. If I had to pay $22,000/year for in-state tuition, I would currently be over $65,000 in debt. With a Ph.D. in science, making about that in a yearly salary, that would be a pretty overwhelming situation.Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-14316569386610753632011-11-20T10:36:00.000-08:002011-11-20T10:36:41.695-08:00Marcel the Shell Part IIIt makes me happy. Merry Sunday, everyone!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ta9K22D0o5Q" width="640"></iframe>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-62491664327397998962011-11-18T14:43:00.000-08:002011-11-18T14:49:04.675-08:00Working at home...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">with some help.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8sDIBTXL3vba5Wa8eVURSBOlF_sFlGT2VSyGd4ZplcNcfvd-WsKAVdmitHGlDzLTrQNV76PUA3bper8wR7IvwLFDg7tqid6mo_ndw-PhA3kYubWqspPocK0ybDEI27O9S5vGl5m_jHg0/s1600/Photo+on+11-18-11+at+2.37+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8sDIBTXL3vba5Wa8eVURSBOlF_sFlGT2VSyGd4ZplcNcfvd-WsKAVdmitHGlDzLTrQNV76PUA3bper8wR7IvwLFDg7tqid6mo_ndw-PhA3kYubWqspPocK0ybDEI27O9S5vGl5m_jHg0/s640/Photo+on+11-18-11+at+2.37+PM.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh, then this move. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycQ3zZ1FBxidG2ZBFh-pBl1oi3PfgrePCc9D1A62378DvP2P-LHU9T2ir1oiqLcGJmwORS-uz4JD3fvp6FrxopEqAQ4tYsUepW1mr2VJNthGZN7r9YPnRraQu91cIK9azexy03qCBuCPr/s1600/Photo+on+11-18-11+at+2.46+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycQ3zZ1FBxidG2ZBFh-pBl1oi3PfgrePCc9D1A62378DvP2P-LHU9T2ir1oiqLcGJmwORS-uz4JD3fvp6FrxopEqAQ4tYsUepW1mr2VJNthGZN7r9YPnRraQu91cIK9azexy03qCBuCPr/s640/Photo+on+11-18-11+at+2.46+PM.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This one's a little trickier.</div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-75573438977664693132011-11-15T17:38:00.000-08:002011-11-18T18:02:22.117-08:00Did I tell you about the time Bubba tried to poison himself?No? Well, that's probably because I was super busy at the time. <br />
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About a week before the workshop I was putting together at work, I came home around 6 pm. I immediately took Bubba for a short walk. When we got back in the house he puked a dark brown liquid onto the floor. Now, this dude pukes kind of a lot what with the car-sickness, so I had seen a lot of dog puke, but nothing that looked like this. My housemate, The Baker, who had been home all day with the dogs, told me that Bubba had puked the same stuff a few hours earlier. I looked at it, looked at him, looked at it, looked at him, and decided to look around the house for what he could have gotten into. <br />
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This didn't take long.<br />
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On the dining room table was a pan of brownies The Baker had made from scratch a few days earlier. The day before I had moved all of his baked goods from the kitchen counter to the dining room table to make room to cook. And then I forgot about it. And I also forgot that when no one's looking Bubba will use the window seat to jump on top of the table in order to shamelessly go to town on whatever food is up there. I have walked in on him a few times full on standing in the middle of the table eating something. <br />
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And then I left him out all day while I went to work.<br />
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The wax paper that was covering the brownies was off, but other than what looked like an irregular cut, or as if someone had just used a fork to eat one end of the brownies, it wasn't obvious that a dog had been eating them. Bubba must have just eaten from the cut edge all neat-like. He likes to cover his tracks. <br />
<br />
So I took him upstairs and looked up how much chocolate is too much for a 12 lb dog. Five minutes into this, I realized it would probably be a good idea to have him near me so I could monitor him. I had him jump onto my lap, and then he immediately turned around and yakked over the edge onto the carpet. Now this dark chocolate colored and smelling liquid puke was going to stain the carpet if I didn't get it up soon. I got to cleaning and called Mr. Renaissance at work to have him continue the online research. At this point I wasn't sure how quickly I would need to get him to the hospital. <br />
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Every chocolate-per-pound-of-dog calculator online said his dose (~1/8 pan of good quality dark chocolate brownies) was "severe" and to "take him to the vet immediately". So I called the emergency vet. The vet said definitely bring him in.<br />
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So off we went. After hearing we were headed to the vet, Mr. Renaissance met us there. Counting once more in the car on the ride over, Bubba puked a total of 6 times in a few hours (this brown puke was easy to trace). Despite having never been to the emergency vet before, he smelled trouble and refused to go through the door. <br />
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So the vet saw him, at which point we learned that his heart rate was at 240 bpm. I wasn't sure how to judge this until I learned it's supposed to be about 150. His heart was beating so fast there wasn't time for it to fill properly. He was flushed, he was jittery, and he was "quaking". I told the doctor that Bubba has the shakes an awful lot for all sorts of reasons (he's part chihuahua after all), including being at the vet. <br />
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Given that he had already been puking a lot they thought inducing vomiting wasn't necessary, but they wanted to get an IV in to give him liquids, give him some valium to reduce his heart rate, and get some tests started. Given that Tina Turnher had long ago convinced me to buy pet insurance, I said "Do it".<br />
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The tests showed that he indeed had a severe level of chocolate in his system. Chocolate poisoning can not only kill a dog, but cause heart, liver, kidney, or brain damage. We decided to do the "textbook" treatment. I put a lot of stock in textbooks (literally and figuratively) so you know I was sold. The plan was valium, IV fluids, tests including an EKG, activated charcoal to soak up the poison, and a catheter to keep his bladder empty (the chemical expelled into the urine can be reabsorbed through the bladder walls). <br />
<br />
After that was decided, along with a discussion of the bill estimate ($1900-2400), we went to visit him in the back in his little vet cage with a an IV, a purple bandage, and a cone, and then left for the night. He would stay at the vet overnight. Honestly, that was the scariest part. <br />
<br />
When we got home I tried to be cool - he was being taken care of very well, and he is a dog after all. This was successful as long as Mr. Renaissance didn't try to discuss it or show any sympathy. He couldn't. So I had a mini-breakdown about the fragility of life, and how everyone I love will someday be taken from me, including this little guy. It's just a taste of the inevitable. Jesus, even now that's depressing. But true. And depressing. Let's stop this cycle for now, shall we?<br />
<br />
Anyway, the next day we called and he was doing well, his poison levels had dropped, but he had still been dry-heaving pretty much all night. They did an x-ray and found a lot of dense pieces in his stomach that looked like they could be bone fragments. I told them, I guess that sounds about right. He steals his Rottweiler housemate's bones all the time and gnaws on them for hours. One time he got a bone that was about as big as he is back to his crate after eyeing it and plotting on it for months. They said this was probably irritating his stomach which is why he kept dry-heaving. It would likely pass through, but they'd have to keep an eye on it in case it all ganged up together and formed an obstruction. They planned another x-ray for that afternoon.<br />
<br />
When I called after that x-ray they said the bone fragments passed through just fine. They said they wanted to keep him until he "was eating food and drinking water again". I said, "oh my god, he's not eating?!?!", because things would have to be seriously wrong for him not to want to eat. They said, "Oh, we just haven't offered him any yet". Well, say that then. Jesus. They said they wanted to keep him another night to make sure everything stays down. I thought that sounded a bit excessive, but you're the experts. I didn't go to vet school after all. <br />
<br />
When I talked to Mr. Renaissance, who had also spoken to the vet that day, he called shenanigans. We were going to give it until later that evening, and if he was still doing fine we were going to take him home. He called the vet and told them this, in a very professional yet firm manner. I was so grateful. I don't have this ability. I either agree with what is going on, or I go fully indignant. That middle ground is tricky. <br />
<br />
So we picked him up that evening, and he was acting a little weird. Just not quite Bubba. We had to feed him a small bland meal (cottage cheese and rice) four times a day and give him two pills (a preventative antibiotic because of the suture he needed to keep the catheter in place, and Pepcid AC to help settle his stomach) for a week. In the morning he was back to his old self. He must have still been on valium or something. And since he kept everything down, he didn't need to go back to the hospital. <br />
<br />
So to recap:<br />
<br />
<ul><li>Don't let your dog get into chocolate. This was the first disadvantage of having a small dog. Small quantities of the<a href="http://pets.webmd.com/dogs/ss/slideshow-foods-your-dog-should-never-eat"> no-go foods</a> are dangerous. </li>
<li>Bubba has now had an EKG, an x-ray, antibiotics, Pepcid AC, and valium, in addition to the Immodium AD that I had to give him when I first brought him home with the doggie flu. I've never even had valium. </li>
<li>Pet insurance is awesome. His little chocolate episode cost $2700 in vet fees. I have paid $15/month for insurance since I've had him, plus a $200 deductible for this and 10% of its cost. So about $700 total. I win.</li>
<li>Also, pets are expensive.</li>
<li>Bubba isn't allowed to chew on his housemate's bones. </li>
<li>In fact, he'll be kenneled a lot more when I'm not home. Because he doesn't understand that chocolate is not delicious.</li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9wF2_MrrIa4b3lOVLnmHX0c7EEtaXweIgxNc_QI6ovL8rZR1lkcArvTcUNfGzenBfh4Uin59k0tAnDJTn5KIkv2xbs4oaT_FrWA4P1PZ1LUj5WRM32-hshwUovUCeyegoNjWPFiyM0m3/s1600/IMG_1129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9wF2_MrrIa4b3lOVLnmHX0c7EEtaXweIgxNc_QI6ovL8rZR1lkcArvTcUNfGzenBfh4Uin59k0tAnDJTn5KIkv2xbs4oaT_FrWA4P1PZ1LUj5WRM32-hshwUovUCeyegoNjWPFiyM0m3/s400/IMG_1129.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-8704338725124704712011-11-11T18:31:00.000-08:002011-11-11T18:31:03.210-08:00Playing catch-upOh man, it's been awhile. I've been super busy - work, new relationship, adventures, etc. But also, it has started to get rainy and gray here. And combine that with daylight savings time (ugggggh), and I always feel like hibernating for a month or two. Watching some hulu, reading some books, cuddling with the dog - I could fill weeks with those things. But I can't. And so I do it a little bit. <br />
<br />
Now, I don't even know where to start. So many things to say. How about a list?<br />
<br />
1. When I was in Montana hanging out with The Wanderer I dropped my camera in a tub of water and Epsom salt. We may be a little picture light over here for awhile.<br />
<br />
2. The Violent Offender, The Shutterbug, Mr. Renaissance, and I went to see The Flaming Lips at The Puyallup Fair. Of course we wandered around the fair for awhile first, ate 7 courses of fried food, and commissioned an air-brushed t-shirt. Thanks to Mr. Renaissance's iPhone and The Shutterbug for the pics (it should be pretty obvious which is which).<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGeWbLqQx3nn9NklsBqGQcPXGPQL0wSlahSixszFpp4x4Ij-gq4bP5XT459uP4xnt5mF-tULwo8Sk47fPAlAUgts82DJvWZlyTff73j_BYdvI5e9pJ9Q63GiBWZtjgFr9Ew14GLDuaatvN/s1600/IMG_1021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGeWbLqQx3nn9NklsBqGQcPXGPQL0wSlahSixszFpp4x4Ij-gq4bP5XT459uP4xnt5mF-tULwo8Sk47fPAlAUgts82DJvWZlyTff73j_BYdvI5e9pJ9Q63GiBWZtjgFr9Ew14GLDuaatvN/s400/IMG_1021.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidWHPgYOo19QrZowFg5skELHMwmsb-daaOPSDFeBR9cbpuOLFP5dKY_1RPYZugVhIaCN8vYuhy3jHdtzvhpB0ylRqj8G6iIlJpGUef0i1Akojg6SUlfUnx4ulGPLWWxeHvcSKMVuOxI951/s1600/IMG_1014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidWHPgYOo19QrZowFg5skELHMwmsb-daaOPSDFeBR9cbpuOLFP5dKY_1RPYZugVhIaCN8vYuhy3jHdtzvhpB0ylRqj8G6iIlJpGUef0i1Akojg6SUlfUnx4ulGPLWWxeHvcSKMVuOxI951/s400/IMG_1014.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTisjV3ElUVB-ExrInwfRKfy7vfWyEWnoplCeC_zrMmAwmREdUWCYXdV4FxnvRPpyVlwuCV0gwXyYYGSuE9OGkCuNDbcCSg4r3My7E3WtZ6KvmbfJ63DJyNpaxogDQ6sdGIRBopJrZOl72/s1600/IMG_1032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTisjV3ElUVB-ExrInwfRKfy7vfWyEWnoplCeC_zrMmAwmREdUWCYXdV4FxnvRPpyVlwuCV0gwXyYYGSuE9OGkCuNDbcCSg4r3My7E3WtZ6KvmbfJ63DJyNpaxogDQ6sdGIRBopJrZOl72/s400/IMG_1032.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0bo-wn4fV0kZud6_IQ4lkLzGR5JGfG-wwVA9uoRrGxo7auQRB088aotqxOg8i7Dl_YZu9ZNrTekzUv3syGenxEdpcnyZFYLFBITYyJS9HvZMocTKdyKVl6-lP1U8N2c_wUMtWVbFKpea/s1600/DSC_2098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0bo-wn4fV0kZud6_IQ4lkLzGR5JGfG-wwVA9uoRrGxo7auQRB088aotqxOg8i7Dl_YZu9ZNrTekzUv3syGenxEdpcnyZFYLFBITYyJS9HvZMocTKdyKVl6-lP1U8N2c_wUMtWVbFKpea/s400/DSC_2098.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
3. I need to learn how to spell "Renaissance" correct the first time. That would really simplify things over here.<br />
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4. I met Mr. Renaissance's mother. Bubba wore his bow tie for the event. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9zN_04ucM6to7KTTYtnMUBmr2ZzbYfqENtPgWTAVC0FVFTExjpgUUM_xT1D6ylBH8tVdTjkXEpthotX7I4i1AXmg3FnulWHojDUu8sJF8weoGQPwcfOZRbaatlBR6LRcC63O4P0O75a37/s1600/IMG_1043_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9zN_04ucM6to7KTTYtnMUBmr2ZzbYfqENtPgWTAVC0FVFTExjpgUUM_xT1D6ylBH8tVdTjkXEpthotX7I4i1AXmg3FnulWHojDUu8sJF8weoGQPwcfOZRbaatlBR6LRcC63O4P0O75a37/s400/IMG_1043_2.jpg" width="385" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our matching outfits and the slightly-inappropriate-for-Sunday-brunch-cleavage were unintended. It was a warm summer day. I'll say that. I'll also say that his mom was very sweet. She loved Bubba. But how could you not? Did you see that bow tie???</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">5. I met a few more of Mr. Renaissance's friends at a birthday cocktail party. I wore my new blue and lace dress! Finally! With tights and these shoes. And Le Fuschia lipstick of course. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihzZ3d7mBnBE1ONEEk02B1x3wEGZ9pAF8G8o5YKldMRUrmwK-gVLgGy7K0w7IQPrwu3jvGBmKOwfCIVtE6-Q-cQ-zx_kqU7tY-TeiEEJFRFlKJSk6kYPKfrF7D2DiHXBHr71-gbRHHrR8/s1600/IMG_1080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihzZ3d7mBnBE1ONEEk02B1x3wEGZ9pAF8G8o5YKldMRUrmwK-gVLgGy7K0w7IQPrwu3jvGBmKOwfCIVtE6-Q-cQ-zx_kqU7tY-TeiEEJFRFlKJSk6kYPKfrF7D2DiHXBHr71-gbRHHrR8/s400/IMG_1080.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>This is the only pic of that night that I can show you.<br />
<br />
6. Mr. Renaissance is building a house. But you knew this. The plan was to make it a small open first floor with a sleeping loft above. Now that is the old plan. The new plan is to make it a 3 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath home with a full second story, a master bedroom with master bath and walk-in closet, a large kitchen with an island and a built-in dining nook, a small laundry room, possibly a small pantry under the stairs, potentially a window seat, and a living room with a library nook. That's the part you might not have known.<br />
<br />
So we're working on that. Well, ok. He's mostly doing the working so far. I'm just helping make decisions, meeting with the architect, and devouring home design books by <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_tc_2_0?rh=i%3Astripbooks%2Ck%3ASarah+Susanka&keywords=Sarah+Susanka&ie=UTF8&qid=1321063549&sr=8-2-ent&field-contributor_id=B001JPC3PK">Sarah Susanka</a>, as per the recommendation of the architect. I'm learning a lot about nooks, away spaces, private and public spaces, window placement, lighting, etc. It's incredibly fun. But also, making the decision on the general floor plan was a teeny bit stressful.<br />
<br />
Originally Mr. Renaissance wanted the downstairs to be basically all open. I like open too, but this means it would be pretty modern. And it also means that if you've got a family in there, there is no way to get away (like an away room, or public/private space) to get a little privacy except for the bedrooms upstairs. I didn't think that sounded like a very good plan. The downstairs would basically be kitchen space open to living room space, with a small powder room. What was super cool about this plan, however, was that the back wall of the house could be all windows. All windows that accordioned open to completely open the back of the house to the deck. Pretty cool, huh? But I also thought about how this would only be awesome for 3 months out of the year here. In the winter it's just a wall of windows to dark. <br />
<br />
My point here is that deciding on one general floor plan meant saying no to everything else. That seemed like one of the harder decisions. Once you make that decision then you have a box in which to make smaller decisions. But we've done it, and we feel really good about it. <br />
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The foundation of the house got poured this week. We went over there and put our handprints in it. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Ze2x85EdHOx23c5XYHe15ORZB2Bm37HE8J5d6C8YGsKS2K_zzx_zrmSXaLAiM3xN7YUe7UP8j8qruyejCUKzcKu4sb22SwXUNBUyLq3DBu71jHkJGADT4Fxm1d55CYbU0-olXOwLph-R/s1600/IMG_3145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Ze2x85EdHOx23c5XYHe15ORZB2Bm37HE8J5d6C8YGsKS2K_zzx_zrmSXaLAiM3xN7YUe7UP8j8qruyejCUKzcKu4sb22SwXUNBUyLq3DBu71jHkJGADT4Fxm1d55CYbU0-olXOwLph-R/s400/IMG_3145.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">7. Mr. Renaissance and I went to <a href="http://www.thestranger.com/hump/">Hump!</a> It's The Stranger's local, amateur, porn festival hosted by Dan Savage. I had never been before. Having never gone before you might assume that you would be viewing sexy things. You would mostly be wrong. There were some that were funny, some that were cute, some that were cartoons, or claymation, or stop-motion, and a few that were actually sexy. But. There were a few, in the 'kink' category, that were just pretty disturbing. And not in a "oh my god, this is terrible I can't watch this, this goes against my morals" way. In a "these consenting adults are doing things or simulating doing things that <i>I can't look at anymore"</i>. One with fake blood and fake nurses and drugged boys being dragged back to labs, one with a knife and the threat of cutting and blood which never actually happened (but we had already seen the fake blood so we were just <i>waiting for it)</i>, and one cheery, friendly, colorful one that involved waaaaay too many donuts being sacrificed all over a couple people's bodies. Sprinkles everywhere. Icing everywhere. Such. a. mess. I was mostly disturbed by the mess. And the fact that sugary foods, while quite amazing, are not sexy. They do not belong in sex. In my world you are either eating sugary junk foods or you are having sex. There is a relationship, but it is an inverse one.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Anyway.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'll probably go next year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And I guess that's all for now, friends.</div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-41705811672292974342011-10-24T19:12:00.000-07:002011-10-24T19:15:58.595-07:00I may self-combustThe fact that I don't have an old brown recliner is probably my saving grace. I really feel like people who self-combust always leave wisps of smoke from a charred still-rocking brown recliner. So there's that.<br />
<br />
But anyway, work is nuts. I have to put together a two-day workshop at work for 30 people plus some other people who will be joining remotely. This includes:<br />
<ol><li>Keeping in email contact with all these people and keeping track of their schedules.</li>
<li>Acting as hostess in a way to a room full of people I don't know. I'll be studying names and faces.</li>
<li>Buying the food and coffee and tea and getting all that set up. </li>
<li>Finding someone to make the coffee for me. I make <i>terrible</i> coffee.</li>
<li>Making sure everyone's presentations are done by Thursday morning.</li>
<li>Trying to make sure the work gets done to put into the presentations for Thursday morning.</li>
<li>Putting together a presentation of my own with results that don't yet exist from models that haven't yet been run (or finished).</li>
<li>Writing a chunk of code (one small piece of #7) in Fortran (which up until yesterday I didn't know at all) on <i>economics.</i></li>
</ol><div>Wish me luck. I'll come up to breathe sometime next week.</div>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4382383852844185859.post-8610458808545348752011-10-23T00:36:00.000-07:002011-10-23T00:36:22.432-07:00I love a great-grandma doing the Dougie<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/tkF5dkq8SxU" width="480"></iframe>Eliskahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17419568128697590462noreply@blogger.com1