tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86538222289525501832024-03-12T23:17:40.878-04:00sparkle & reflectmarisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-77297587032607475702011-11-01T22:17:00.001-04:002011-11-01T22:17:22.219-04:00Looking Back: November<!--StartFragment-->
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I always hate to be the person to say, “Wow, can you believe
it’s Insert Month Here?” But really, seriously, wow, can you believe it’s November?
Because I most definitely can’t. I feel like it was February five seconds
ago—February 2010 five minutes ago—and now, here we are, one month left of the
year.</div>
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In November last year, John and I were hanging out on a
beach in Punta Cana. Over those five days, I read two books (<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Love-Walked-Marisa-los-Santos/dp/0525949178">this</a> and I can’t
remember the other one), swam with stingrays, went snorkeling, ate coconuts on
the beach and learned Prince William and Kate were getting married. </div>
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We did <a href="http://www.reef-explorer.com/english.html">this</a> excursion. </div>
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While I haven’t had that need-to-be-in-the-warm-weather RIGHT NOW feeling yet, I’ve already started turning the heat up when John’s not looking and yesterday I broke out the winter jacket.</div>
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But can you blame me? This is what the trees looked like in Punta Cana: </div>
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And these were the trees outside our apartment on Saturday: </div>
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(And that just made this post basically the same as <a href="http://sparkleandreflect.blogspot.com/2010/03/welcome-march.html">this one</a>. But that was March! It’s too soon for snow!)<span> </span> <o:p></o:p></div>
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So what were you doing last November? And what are you looking
forward to this year? </div>
<!--EndFragment-->marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-58628133297845059442011-10-14T16:23:00.000-04:002011-10-14T16:25:06.987-04:00Apple Picking Success<br />
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Although, truth be told, if you had asked any of us while
sitting at a gas station at 3:30 p.m. last Saturday whether we definitively
thought apple picking would have been a success, we likely would have had
another answer for you.</div>
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Because, as you can imagine, we weren’t the only ones who
thought going apple picking on an 80-degree long weekend in October was a good
idea. But! The bright side: We found an orchard, complete
with beer garden, cider donuts and live music. And
once we got our bags and figured out where the best apples were, the day turned
out pretty great.</div>
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All photos by the super-talented Dorna.</div>
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We had planned to make apple pies when we got home, but with some butternut squash, whole wheat pasta and spinach, Karen made dinner, instead. </div>
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<br /></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-23912960796201237202011-10-11T18:19:00.002-04:002011-10-11T18:20:03.487-04:00Facelift!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After some back and forth—and lots of Etsy research—I finally
decided it was time for this blog to get a new look. And here it is! What do
you think? </div>
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I bought the template from <a href="http://yellowsavvydesign.com/">Yellow & Savvy Design</a> and love
the colors, the cuts and the fact that it reflects my own style a lot more than
before. Next up, I'll (finally) be working on the About page and just overall editing some of the features. Baby steps, yes? Anyway, I hope you like it and that you're enjoying this lovely Tuesday! </div>
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xo, m </div>
<!--EndFragment-->marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-64684158067189170662011-10-07T17:38:00.002-04:002011-10-07T17:41:28.757-04:00Apple Picking Inspiration<br />
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We’re going apple picking on Saturday—yay for all fall activities, all the time!—and as a way to avoid having like, five pounds of apples sitting around for weeks on end, I’ve been thinking about lots of different ways we can use them. I'm hoping to help John's mom make apple jelly (apple jam?), but aside from that, how good to THESE look? </div>
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I found this <a href="http://pinchofyum.com/classic-apple-crisp">recipe</a> for "Classic Apple Crisp" over at <a href="http://pinchofyum.com/">Pinch of Yum</a>. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_1ZC1uUnjCwtDLFFkQsUAtSBpcfJEAIZ1VAErhHlTRyVMdi7SV85rZjLiwbDpcZ-BOjGPARqoe-0dtg_LLc-PUe87dZVBsG8qMhNV8tvwMUkegyMawD9iR6LI_pv5StIKUY8SnkBPVZ-/s1600/Ap+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_1ZC1uUnjCwtDLFFkQsUAtSBpcfJEAIZ1VAErhHlTRyVMdi7SV85rZjLiwbDpcZ-BOjGPARqoe-0dtg_LLc-PUe87dZVBsG8qMhNV8tvwMUkegyMawD9iR6LI_pv5StIKUY8SnkBPVZ-/s400/Ap+007.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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And hi, <i>apple nachos</i>. LOVE. The recipe, from <a href="http://www.shugarysweets.com/">Shugary Sweets</a>, is <a href="http://www.shugarysweets.com/2011/06/apple-nachos.html">here</a>. </div>
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And check out these <a href="http://cravingchronicles.com/2011/09/22/caramel-apple-pie-cupcakes/">Caramel Apple Pie Cupcakes</a> from <a href="http://cravingchronicles.com/">The Craving Chronicles</a>. (p.s., the rest of her <a href="http://www.tsullivanphotography.com/">food photography </a>looks pretty awesome, too.) </div>
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Have you made any apple-infused goodness lately? Any tips? </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">All photo credits linked above. </span></div>
marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-22147375162021960382011-09-29T18:40:00.002-04:002011-09-29T20:34:50.423-04:00On Turning Twenty Eight<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/AVvXsEiDWgwTWBVPqKpaKWHG6rfIIAsP4QPYYXcvC0SbwiicLevyR5b22cowH1CB9AJ-FXjor-P07g61tWEM0Q0qg5EzWgM73OMJEzRg8sOitP5n8vILmVpOmf6rqNTYSdz4sBTzo3qDCkiEGdol/s1600/2011-09-27_1317083658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWgwTWBVPqKpaKWHG6rfIIAsP4QPYYXcvC0SbwiicLevyR5b22cowH1CB9AJ-FXjor-P07g61tWEM0Q0qg5EzWgM73OMJEzRg8sOitP5n8vILmVpOmf6rqNTYSdz4sBTzo3qDCkiEGdol/s320/2011-09-27_1317083658.jpg" width="520" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On Monday, we went on a <a href="http://www.zerve.com/SailNYC/Wine">wine tasting cruise</a> on the Hudson River - so fun! </td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve been making a ridiculous number of lists lately. What we need to buy for the apartment. Recipes I want to try. Movies/books/music I want to see/read/listen to. And that’s in addition to my boring every morning “Things I seriously need to get accomplished today” list.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So it’s only fitting that when I turned 28 on Monday, I started to make a list of what I was looking forward to for the year and, since I am always all sorts of nostalgic, what the past year was like.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’d have to say that 27 was a bit all over the place, although maybe that’s every year. But there were lots of upsides. The getting married part, most of all. And the moving in together. The having of our family from Italy, Canada and friends from California here. The visiting of new places—Punta Cana last November, Miami in March, Spain in July, Dallas in September. The learning that what’s right for some people, isn’t always right for me. (And that that’s ok.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But there’s been lots of adjusting to different situations. And lots of time wasted with worrying. (Weddings will SERIOUSLY do that to you. I was watching an episode of Dina’s Party on HGTV the other day and she was throwing a wedding re-do for this couple where the husband got salmonella poisoning and missed the reception. And I was all, OMG that was my worst fear realized. I think I ate nothing but pizza the two days leading up to the wedding. Why pizza? My dad, a former pizza man, says nothing can live in a 400-plus degree oven. If he’s lying, PLEASE don’t tell me.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All in all, though, I’d like to think that on the first year of my late 20’s, things came together quite nicely.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And now, on to 28. I thought about making a “29 before 29” list, but I stopped at 20 and didn’t feel like forcing it. So we’re going to title this To Do at 28, instead.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here are a few:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Make donuts </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Go to Iceland</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Win that godforsaken radio contest already</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Finish my professional website</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Do a juice fast</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Volunteer, preferably with something that has to do with reading</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Learn to make tomato sauce from Nonna</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Forget the “shoulds”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m hoping that having these here will actually remind me to finish them. That, and the fact that I’m going to print the list out and scotch tape it to my desk. (Better add bulletin board to that list of things to buy for the apartment.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What about you? Do you have a running list of things you want to accomplish in any given year?</span></div>
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marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-40302517264194281042011-09-23T14:54:00.003-04:002011-09-29T18:44:22.049-04:00Summer in Spain<div style="text-align: center;"><div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s only a few hours into fall, but I’m still wearing flip flops (albeit in the rain…) and though I’m as excited as the next girl for pumpkin spice lattes, I’m not totally ready to give up on the fact that summer is, in fact, over. So, to keep that feeling going, I thought I’d (finally) share a few pics from our July honeymoon in Spain. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">I’m in the midst of creating a photo book on Shutterfly—thank you, Groupon—and have been picking out some of my faves. Here are a few: </span></div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2kVMKXC3SlwUKmyp56SEfFHEgKlyc9hG_MsTrJG9bS9PoRjueM98Qxx0YoOVdgcizA2rxXVcEjRGhDfY0baQw_VXj0tvExgTai8x5EDpwrgdxWSiZSRtGtn3XPPi_HHKY-w9fq33MAe0/s1600/P1000176.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2kVMKXC3SlwUKmyp56SEfFHEgKlyc9hG_MsTrJG9bS9PoRjueM98Qxx0YoOVdgcizA2rxXVcEjRGhDfY0baQw_VXj0tvExgTai8x5EDpwrgdxWSiZSRtGtn3XPPi_HHKY-w9fq33MAe0/s1600/P1000176.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2kVMKXC3SlwUKmyp56SEfFHEgKlyc9hG_MsTrJG9bS9PoRjueM98Qxx0YoOVdgcizA2rxXVcEjRGhDfY0baQw_VXj0tvExgTai8x5EDpwrgdxWSiZSRtGtn3XPPi_HHKY-w9fq33MAe0/s1600/P1000176.JPG"></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxGZ6iayUJQVGAJQXo-OS3T7GnVQQLzoCyCQN8-gRRM2ZlUEI9d8SKGMxAutFr099bUl9hgRroSTTOAZHdP0lvy-VY9TcnRUrIDd-kXGBkZT24113mAT_zhEtjQijIldGYVX4P1a6yT8U/s1600/spainBLOG.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655314555467320130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxGZ6iayUJQVGAJQXo-OS3T7GnVQQLzoCyCQN8-gRRM2ZlUEI9d8SKGMxAutFr099bUl9hgRroSTTOAZHdP0lvy-VY9TcnRUrIDd-kXGBkZT24113mAT_zhEtjQijIldGYVX4P1a6yT8U/s400/spainBLOG.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 350px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left; width: 500px;" /></a></div><div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After a bumpy ride to Malaga, in southern Spain, we picked up our lovely blue rental car, and drove to Marbella to start our 13-day trip. </span></span></div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2kVMKXC3SlwUKmyp56SEfFHEgKlyc9hG_MsTrJG9bS9PoRjueM98Qxx0YoOVdgcizA2rxXVcEjRGhDfY0baQw_VXj0tvExgTai8x5EDpwrgdxWSiZSRtGtn3XPPi_HHKY-w9fq33MAe0/s1600/P1000176.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655594613119273410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2kVMKXC3SlwUKmyp56SEfFHEgKlyc9hG_MsTrJG9bS9PoRjueM98Qxx0YoOVdgcizA2rxXVcEjRGhDfY0baQw_VXj0tvExgTai8x5EDpwrgdxWSiZSRtGtn3XPPi_HHKY-w9fq33MAe0/s400/P1000176.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 350px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left; width: 500px;" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">We had a gift certificate to the spa and a bottle of Cava waiting for us (thanks Carmine,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"> Chris and Karen!). And with a view of the ocean, it gave those first four days a decidedly “honeymoon-ish” feel. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: arial; font-size: small;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">After lots of beaching and pooling and mid-day napping, we made the two-hour drive to Sevilla—my favorite of all the cities, actually. (This photo was actually from the Granada leg of the trip, but we made a similar stop at some randomly packed roadside restaurant on the Sevilla side.)</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><br />
</span></div></span><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655606133709298002" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXwf2hdMheR4piqWEO5oC1ao9VPFbraY9nEMOwKasoC-17AyA7dd05EPIBxc8MAFVssUqJwVAvevnUCA1UpePa6tBAbVt0H72ZfUctF9tNhKrrmJn8M16Jq28o3P633AlwPwCnMlOZ5Sq/s400/P1000363.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 450px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Road trip food! </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655316475726278754" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyo5k7FVyu70FlOA_40pp1zUvl62REJkgB3lZwRU3EgxgHIMj8_ZuYblyCaxqk0oNuMEPTLPRvTQDzvVzl-oC_1sZcBN4Ub-hrr8Ct2zauxGtSaakkwxExOzrYAAIDaXIxRslUm0YSXLHe/s400/P1000242.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 350px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><div class="MsoNormal">I don’t know if it was because it felt like a small town in Italy (although that could have just been the ridiculous amount of tourists) or that the little streets lend themselves perfectly to fun walks, but from our hotel, which used to be a palace, (picture below on the left) to the gardens of the Reales Alcazar to the awesome restaurants we found courtesy of an English language Lonely Planet we picked up, it was seriously amazing. </div></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s1098.photobucket.com/albums/g365/marisai1/?action=view&current=spain3.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1098.photobucket.com/albums/g365/marisai1/spain3.jpg" /></a> <a href="http://s1098.photobucket.com/albums/g365/marisai1/?action=view&current=spain4.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1098.photobucket.com/albums/g365/marisai1/spain4.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655317009670180450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnYDOimztXozPjYSMNPkXVWlXD1esAlcnhybf3bJ2hev-uiXcNyNsb2nk9Witv3aZF8VDCaZtE9zO-5T6wMqRgH-LADS9cyzR0LHV1QmmOZj-Pih9aUdrVTAHhca5PBvpFdDiEWKV-eSU5/s400/P1000255.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 350px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655315830130596850" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjUf86xJlxKjOVPUmsXPOD4yx2Iifm7d6qiPYtBmeQvxpXNHTutbUkunGyWbYfcU4pSvOgGwhUbgqlKiyWko_r704NpsoXqehMyCPTiGzRk5W9qPJj-slYn2v3fk-9Bom46keqOIufxO_n/s400/P1000305.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 350px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">From Sevilla, we made our way to Granada, where this photo below was the view from the hotel café. We got up early to wait in line for Alhambra tickets, wanted to try all the tea in town and put our blue car to good use driving up the mountains of the Sierra Nevada until we found no guardrails and lots of mountain goats. </span></span></div></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><br />
</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2FIwoK6DMruzbpFroDsam4Ld4eTqeBCMozCTm9CDAgESGcp6EqdzwJ077EKRe1AHi351s22iUoWqHOOdC_LwABcWgP2Hg1Gz596cklSIY3aEgmduM-PAxvXSN7Uj9NZ9_utOINPAtfOl/s1600/P1000385.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655317591909960322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2FIwoK6DMruzbpFroDsam4Ld4eTqeBCMozCTm9CDAgESGcp6EqdzwJ077EKRe1AHi351s22iUoWqHOOdC_LwABcWgP2Hg1Gz596cklSIY3aEgmduM-PAxvXSN7Uj9NZ9_utOINPAtfOl/s400/P1000385.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 350px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /></a></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655599727320749346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_19qQv28-C3HyE1BzNSd43dJIBjTbukbbXQXR5uW3g593_xNmY7bN6LR7uGXGsY6hO69yVaGuTFPHZXwq7-pbogykLe66QkxM2TkurGagxOzcPpM0t2FUlSzHD4_kmqYgJZ7MVuERpFxa/s400/P1000399.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 350px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655318132763135266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuJkHulsLkbRvkUVKZD_2DgqbjIznN_jFaXUXAIqqUIKqc4VmXeq1gdfjvxLFg5YJ0THJ6Kh31J4ZU1cvyjoj-O2GTtJbDC_bor9Hw8Z5HKaSxwqhQbZSMjI4vv_m74iIHqZttr1fq9j8q/s400/P1000464.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 350px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655606138009595826" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEickXr3cqKwoBHMtCLrwfYwBQSu8YyK8TV4769e8ZvKregt32bmj3nXDuCc9kPzRr_uPaBfza_TkrQ2RTtlzgsSkDGUQtwDLxCGQcgN5UZmdK8yq1mLyDBsg28aLnBp7pNdZ7EPvmG-Z9_U/s400/P1000462.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 500px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 350px;" /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655318136638931890" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheggdu-HxMA9zz-rmgnUFbQeON_yMN91P6RQFKzvGgk-KZsoGDJtHMj2U2JhtFm-mxqzqgA_jafM12NBbMwtduLrHEFw56Kh7aJrDrk8jz3tddcpbGpAhyphenhyphenZ-bgKmB7nJjdhT2RIMFupZ0Z/s400/P1000504.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 350px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">After dropping our rental car off with the gas station attendant next to the airport, (who kindly left his post and drove us to our gate.), we boarded our flight to Barcelona. We spent three days walking for hours, dodging people and street performers on Las Ramblas, shopping—oh, how I love you <a href="http://www.zara.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/product/us/en/zara-us-W2011/122013/512029/SKINNY%2BTROUSERS">red-ish pants</a> from Zara—stuffing our faces with (even more) <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g187497-d782944-Reviews-Cerveceria_Catalana-Barcelona_Catalonia.html">tapas</a> and loving all things Gaudi. </span></span></span></div></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; color: #0000ee;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655603637211018482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAlLdjFrtdcQ57m-ywvAgs1cwSaxs2yhnAuoCXnilrQqUkamkve1DuZ0mCa5riPKIzIfuXJjMcLBQEg1UYpCFLS326hbxDADGQLyJszRgTmubmisjvorgUCGUpdSl_tu_n8ZzBgp1bIWd3/s400/P1000518.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 500px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 350px;" /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655603648675174338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQE_JSMDQPiB0ziNiDLE44ek72DOjA-4R1nZ65tsmy-iru1989vi4msWNlQBV_3h6MkF-oPFh4_nJOoa-pwhktew_8Gq2b6eaft4r-dHG25Alj6H-HGfGjDrTbLVIViMu3QGZpAMcGdmH7/s400/P1000574.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 500px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 350px;" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><a href="http://s1098.photobucket.com/albums/g365/marisai1/?action=view&current=spain11.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1098.photobucket.com/albums/g365/marisai1/spain11.jpg" /></a> <a href="http://s1098.photobucket.com/albums/g365/marisai1/?action=view&current=spain12.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1098.photobucket.com/albums/g365/marisai1/spain12.jpg" /></a></span></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixagC6VVdPKgLjWm0Jt3Y5xue5hjruRVdHYHVVwpGb5QBXdt_8Nrdf3n8xnyjGqRunujhUZKeyej7L9JU18keCjjEGBDYWXT_6gS4p7Fa-NBIwUVxVn7uZwj7L4f2AIZHdnGcJjku5Q7gA/s1600/P1000523.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655318632848119474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixagC6VVdPKgLjWm0Jt3Y5xue5hjruRVdHYHVVwpGb5QBXdt_8Nrdf3n8xnyjGqRunujhUZKeyej7L9JU18keCjjEGBDYWXT_6gS4p7Fa-NBIwUVxVn7uZwj7L4f2AIZHdnGcJjku5Q7gA/s400/P1000523.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 350px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Overall, it was amazing, honestly. And I know you’re </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">supposed</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to say that about your honeymoon and all, but it really was. There were times when we wondered whether we should have gone on a more beachy or exotic trip, but I think this suited us much better—the wine was cheap, the roads were perfect for getting lost and the company couldn’t have been better. </span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">P.S. If you'd like to see some photos from the wedding, click <a href="http://www.jenniferdavisphotography.com/blog.cfm?postID=247">here</a>. </span></div></div></div></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-68975684341008474852010-12-02T21:31:00.000-05:002010-12-02T21:48:01.183-05:00Oh, Hi..<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Wait, what’s a blog? Oh, yes…this poor thing I’ve ignored for the last few months. But I came on the other day and realized that Dec. 3 marks the one-year anniversary of Sparkle & Reflect. (Well...if you don’t count that many month hiatus.). </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It got me thinking how much has changed since this time last year. There's been lots more writing, a few more trips made, and that whole engagement thing—which means lots more planning than I ever thought possible (or necessary.) But I also realized how much has stayed the same: Miriam’s here, I'm still wearing last year's black boots and I still love the <i>Real Housewives</i>. </span></span></div> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> So, I’ll take this anniversary eve as a sign to start writing again. Stay tuned for more posts, more photos, more quotes and—I’ll let you know upfront now—more wedding-related stuff.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Here’s hoping you’ll keep reading! xox, m</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-16843671117644448432010-03-21T20:51:00.001-04:002011-10-07T17:48:04.096-04:00wedding task wonders: photographer<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2qzOs3ZiPFbNubnEyn1h09DZnX2gPCFs0AAS_UmwYsML8b64s-Rir4pyKWyGLumeXWpv1nXu_RCqrthkRNhrIPR8mVSsnBBE4lhGQtl9l6f6PUHCAF4PZ4N16wZYzYX9JGFvSNWTGNyeE/s1600-h/n10513472_35133955_2049769-1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" height="265" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451280422240066738" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2qzOs3ZiPFbNubnEyn1h09DZnX2gPCFs0AAS_UmwYsML8b64s-Rir4pyKWyGLumeXWpv1nXu_RCqrthkRNhrIPR8mVSsnBBE4lhGQtl9l6f6PUHCAF4PZ4N16wZYzYX9JGFvSNWTGNyeE/s400/n10513472_35133955_2049769-1.jpg" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;" width="400" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">My friend Anish took this photo at Laura's wedding...maybe he should be my wedding photographer? </span></div>
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In the first month or so after we got engaged, there was a flurry of lists and plans and emails. I set aside a notebook especially for all my half-thought out notes, most of which can be found written sideways and in a scribbled handwriting that thankfully my journalism experience has taught me to decipher. </div>
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There was the buying of bridal books and magazines, the adding of new blogs to my Reader (under a new category and everything!), and there might have even been a Google Wave titled "Wedding Research" created. I had friends pass on Excel spreadsheets full of venue details and dutifully, John and I took all the 360-degree tours their websites offered. </div>
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And then, in mid-February, we booked the venue. </div>
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And then, the next day rolled around and we stopped thinking about the wedding. </div>
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I mean, ok, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I</span> stopped thinking about the wedding. And o<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">ur</span> wedding, I should italicize, since I had no problem checking out Erica's invitations and helping other friends with their own venue selections—oh, and reading a million articles this <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2247489/?GT1=38001#add-comment">one</a>. </div>
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Lots of people have asked for updates, sure, and I just keep feeding the line that we're in the process of looking for photographers and DJs. </div>
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But now it's not just a line anymore. Since we have quite the popular wedding date, I think we need to get on this whole photographer thing, especially since it's pretty much at the top of our list of "Important Wedding Priorities," as determined by that random list we filled out in that wedding planning book. </div>
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Which brings me to my problem: How does one go about finding a good (read: amazing, artsy, absolutely fabulous) East Coast photographer? </div>
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Every blog I read has me falling in love with photographers that are either on the West Coast or in some other part of the country. I know lots of people who have their photographers fly in from somewhere else, but my anxiety has me wondering how it'll be to meet them at the wedding (what if we don't have that much-talked about <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">click</span>?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">) </span>and what if, as Sabina mentioned, NY lighting isn't nearly as amazing as Southern California lighting? </div>
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We're in the process of putting together a list now, and while we do have some good leads, I figured better to throw it out there and see if anyone else did, too, before I come up with some other wedding-related thing to distract me. </div>
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By the way, have you seen this wedding dress <a href="http://gatherandnest.com/?p=3208">made of cake? </a></div>
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</span>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-89518307759591891412010-03-17T16:08:00.000-04:002010-03-18T10:45:08.413-04:00and, she's back...<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">...although barely. </span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We haven't had power at the house since Saturday afternoon. And just in case you were wondering, I'm typing this on Thursday morning. And more than likely, we won't get it back until tomorrow. Le sigh. <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At first it was actually kind of fun: reading by candlelight, camping out at my grandmother's, exchanging those "No, you can't believe the tree I SAW fall down" stories ... but then... well, then it just got kind of old. My clothes—and our food— are spread across three different houses, I'm charging my phone in my car and I haven't slept in my own bed since last Thursday night. (Friday we had a slight re-do of <a href="http://sparkleandreflect.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-year-slightly-delayed.html">New Year's </a>in Joyce's living room.) And, trust me, I know it could be a lot worse. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">But, on the bright side, if I had to make a list of "Things I Won't Take for Granted Again, I Promise" electricity is definitely at the top. </span><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 48px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); font-size:48px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-KyNnQnQEh80iO9e6K_OEL2MwzRMDEMpINR6tH9g5npdcyKgBPP29TU5KddoAay20U5S1Q7OxDe_wq5UKn6omtecpDJWVQjkPeX9dVgXlNFxulOmeG2heiKPQdB_dl3tyZLagLBuTrSy/s400/IMG_2028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449972381955170450" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">No one's crossing this street....</span></div><div></div></blockquote><div><br /></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:48px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:16px;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoB9gwElybyqKRc_0xUHD9p0ClNmF5qyzwPp0PQqSNyZL_xl9OIA0G_Qgz_P_EGwTldxAHvXi-3eTGkUJL1fyio5PsKh-IqG6kLmskScxyZKuJt8kDNKPZjS88C4gjQy03_aXS4Ry5C01/s1600-h/IMG_2030.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoB9gwElybyqKRc_0xUHD9p0ClNmF5qyzwPp0PQqSNyZL_xl9OIA0G_Qgz_P_EGwTldxAHvXi-3eTGkUJL1fyio5PsKh-IqG6kLmskScxyZKuJt8kDNKPZjS88C4gjQy03_aXS4Ry5C01/s400/IMG_2030.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449972393357867234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><blockquote>Power lines plus trees equals not the best idea. </blockquote></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZalDXPReqAf1CZ1Yvu0MFWqcsykBzqF7qthiXDnIXxjgEqG9NC88hrPbWuB5v9g_sAK2IaBphRwaTQDcr5nJMfcj92SC3EZzVQbupzRvAwBdKR-VGDaz7S0-b2D2sWzsXBBJtw76mi0B/s1600-h/IMG_1651.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZalDXPReqAf1CZ1Yvu0MFWqcsykBzqF7qthiXDnIXxjgEqG9NC88hrPbWuB5v9g_sAK2IaBphRwaTQDcr5nJMfcj92SC3EZzVQbupzRvAwBdKR-VGDaz7S0-b2D2sWzsXBBJtw76mi0B/s400/IMG_1651.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449972374261609602" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><blockquote>So at 12:30 on Sunday night, as we're finishing dinner at Melissa and Cheri's, Joyce gets an email saying a tree fell on her parents house. Since they're in Florida, we went to check it out. </blockquote><blockquote><br /></blockquote></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhate9SxFkfFiSyayd3y80wiF20BA-7OteTBgCifh0pWhGsavUyjQIaWZvbUMxj0ehqrM4B7OueYF9JeUrhhD63ZRg-vKKMC3BPWBLqHqq3oEozGw9uTXlqQmkpx9fazunJymSYK4FYzyC0/s1600-h/IMG_1650.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhate9SxFkfFiSyayd3y80wiF20BA-7OteTBgCifh0pWhGsavUyjQIaWZvbUMxj0ehqrM4B7OueYF9JeUrhhD63ZRg-vKKMC3BPWBLqHqq3oEozGw9uTXlqQmkpx9fazunJymSYK4FYzyC0/s400/IMG_1650.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449972358379265282" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 48px; "><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><blockquote>The tree uprooted and skimmed the side of the house. After some friendly firefighters told us that no, in fact, the tree won't fall through the attic and into the living room, Joyce called her Dad, who remembered the name of his insurance person IN HIS SLEEP. Here, she's looking at the bright side as well. </blockquote></span></div></span>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-49820950761339727522010-03-04T16:17:00.000-05:002010-03-05T16:22:31.887-05:00three amazing things<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">1. Short haircuts <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd7be2Wk7NLEZuws3YOROFgUmAsxZFXj9sSxAes4pfdqrY1kk3whOR4M5PjHLRMPDZfOzxkq0y5w717gIapYCy59I9jmYorlV1RwOt_hIMF-8ljFlEwygFZX8GutkAdG7HIuzc90fLB0cS/s400/Photo+122.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445251417514441586" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I've had short hair since the end of April 2008, right after </span><a href="http://www.myproposaltoyou.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sherry got married</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. I wanted it long for her wedding so that I'd be able to put it up, but once the weekend was over, that was it. I chopped it into a short bob, slightly longer in front. And I loved it. Like, loved it to the point where I spent the first week hoping it wouldn't grow too fast, just in case I went back to the salon and my hairdresser somehow couldn't remember how he'd cut it the last time I was there. <br /></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I kept it short, going from bob to cropped and layered and choppy, until this past October, when I had my last haircut. Because in December, I got engaged. And as soon as you get engaged people start asking if you're planning on growing your hair so that it will be long enough to curl or pull up or back for the wedding. I thought about it and since I couldn't really make up my mind, I let it grow. Eventually, it hit my shoulders and was much easier to keep out of my face at the gym. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Until Tuesday. I couldn't handle it anymore. It was weighing me down, to basically be literal about it. So I went and chopped it short once again, and immediately, right as I was sitting in the chair reading some old copy of Allure, I felt like myself again. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">2. New ways to wear almost-abandoned clothes </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZdC5DJY2-0tsALPrEuwaXjOUASM4UKqfS-xvee8QskWkoTWYzI7onQqrDPHqOT6Ko5A7a0-rFvLl3vZw0aMQJAwve4vuLc5BDpUoCekZbdb7krlzhx_HUPfwKqnq2TgyV2EnHDnuBq4vK/s400/greentank.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445262204294808658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pretty much any time you walk into the Gap, you're guaranteed to get something on sale. In fact, I can probably count the number of times, I've bought something for full price—a super cute clutch that was stolen one summer in Italy and a t-shirt dress from at least 4 years ago that has become my default bridal shower outfit. So when I found a cute, long green tank for about $10 last summer, I figured there would be some way I could wear it. Turns out, there wasn't. It was too long to wear with jeans and when it was hot out, too short to wear with leggings. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I almost forgot about it, poor thing, until earlier this week, when I rescued it from the murky bottom of my dresser drawer. I tried it on over leggings, pairing it with a long grey sweater, which balanced out the shortness. And look at that— it turns out the whole "</span><a href="http://www.realsimple.com/beauty-fashion/clothing/wardrobe-basics/shop-closet-00000000006037/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">shopping your closet</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">" thing might actually work. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">3. Individual hummus packs </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbS1Z1nUIxH-A4eZeXpUowIqBgjryloL0RYwFEeamQdpql8k12YuBpn9kXZwyQPCTXpIn-aAQP44A_7fOntjKFLmyZ1vOdiyU21GxJcJXskx09_XRZkXAYYcShnO2g6gImc88_r_j1oxR3/s400/4pk+2oz.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445251951216100386" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm obsessed, obsessed with hummus. The problem though, is that the damn small print on the packaging says you have to use it within a week of opening. And since no one else in my house shares my love, it ends up going bad because, as hard as I try and as much as I'd like, I CANNOT eat an entire package in a week. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So on Sunday, when I was food shopping with John, I was lamenting this very fact when he handed me this 4-pack of </span><a href="http://www.sabra.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sabra</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> individually-wrapped hummus containers. AMAZING. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I knew there was a reason I was marrying this boy. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">[photo courtesy of Sabra] </span></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-84475613320277359042010-03-03T20:53:00.000-05:002010-03-03T21:52:39.929-05:00lost observations, episode 6<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Well, this week went by pretty quickly, didn't it? I swear I feel like I just posted about our favorite island/alternative universe dwelling friends and then look at that, here we are again. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">In much the same way that I'm feeling slightly lazy about writing this post, we were also too lazy to cook last night. Instead, we ordered in soggy sweet potato fries, turkey burgers, mussels (One of these things is not like the other...) and french onion soup. Internet, have you ever ordered takeout french onion soup? No? Good for you. We learned our lesson the hard way. </span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">Here’s what we thought throughout:</span><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">- Sayid goes to visit Nadia. She’s married and Sayid calls her husband “brother.” As in, literally? We <a href="http://lostpedia.wikia.com/wiki/Omer_Jarrah">Lostpedia</a> it and find out that yes, in fact, it is his actual brother.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">- Sayid's carrying a picture of Nadia, says the little girl. Well, little girl, that didn't just make Mommy and Uncle Sayid incredibly awkward. </span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">- Dogen's baseball drops to the floor and John asks, "What does the baseball represent?" Probably his childhood, we speculate. Maybe we’ll find out in the last episode. You know, when they actually answer some questions. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> - Claire looks tan in this episode, which gets us thinking: Shouldn’t they all be a little more tan? Or at this point, perpetually sunburned? Maybe it’s the jungle, wonders Dorna.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">During commercials, we talk about the ridiculousness that is the possibility of <a href="http://abclocal.go.com/wabc/story?section=news/local&id=7305404">Cablevision subscribers losing ABC</a>. Ugh, Cablevision, come on, you want to possibly take away Lost? And Oprah? And the Oscars? Major fail. </span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">- Back to the show: Omer basically tells Sayid to beat up the guys who loaned him money for Nadia. We say: Don’t do it, Sayid!</span><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> - Claire tells Dogen to speak English. He’s very obliging with the language changing, says Dorna.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> - Evil incarnate? Oh, right, that’s who smoke-monster Locke (SML) is. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> - Mid-way, we’re thinking: In both realities, Sayid is being tempted/tested. Even though he's predominantly good (at least, we think so), both Omer and Dogen (and later, SML), want him to focus on and use the bad he has in him. Devil tempting, much? </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:123.2pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> - At least Miles still thinks Claire looks hot. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> - Did Dogen set Sayid up? Because he knew that if he tried to kill SML that SML would just kill Sayid?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> - SML proves our point. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">- </span>Sayid can have anything in the entire world: Awww, the only thing he ever wanted died in his arms! Dorna and I swoon.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> - Claire is down in a ditch, singing to herself. Claire = Crazy. Point taken, Lost writers. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">- Side note: Every time I see an egg crack on TV, I automatically think of that old “This is your brain on drugs” commercial.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">- Military guy, or Keamy, forgives the debt just like that? Put it in writing, says Dorna.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">- </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wo</span>ah, Dogen just told Sayid his whole sad life story and then Sayid kills him! But at least now the baseball thing makes sense. ONE question answered! </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">- </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">W</span>here do the burning crosses come from?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> - Previews for next week: So Ben is gonna die? Well, at least they didn’t say that “Questions will be answered!” Because clearly, they weren’t.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Thoughts: The content of each episode is pointing more and more towards faith, which leads John to come up with this theory: In their original lives, it seems as if all the principal characters have lost faith somehow, whether it's in their families (Kate, Jack), their marriages (Sun/Jin), or the world around them (Locke), so maybe the island is a test towards regaining that faith somehow. We're not sure, but it's a thought. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">So, what did you think? </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-67985086687279034632010-03-01T21:35:00.001-05:002011-09-20T10:44:09.220-04:00welcome, march<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">There's something very clean slate about a new month beginning on a Monday, no? </span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">During March l</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">ast year, I was here:</span></span></div><div><div><div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUsoBzb6fxnl47zOSqExUDcZBSvUTwVvchVh7EOvKQPklrVrJxP1T36CYPvM2olkjAkqI7mayYbGP9ni0VPzHHDEvAjy3DK4vAnjm2CNzdIr2hB-qNpie6hyvB2qX9K-aMTz7ffgscEqV/s400/IMG_0157.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443863418280939890" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 600px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Lying on a beach in the Bahamas.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And honestly, after a weekend full of this:<br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqoHtfMqMSK8PkgbmBLQmjonJPKjri17OBOu6H8InFZGbyCsSRD-Ms7gDSDNttS1FLBgsxuxZW8TOxZR75QKeuyTTWvlzRx4A6eZJEvS_aw39MahkESWgYWe71F1W7Edo4iZ29SJLZtT6k/s400/IMG_1466.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443862835416769314" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 600px; " /></span><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_esTNn88aLKZhi6acW7okGzLLbsOINyqf0Hx7h8aCPb8Kqh3a9CIJPaoaqzpWLsV215bd1K8VJRjMvqs9BT3teLtzn2Quws1HyFS9s8nJIvwVIeXhTXkiKIqwSsmEkB_M8sCH140M9xMC/s400/IMG_1463.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443867823218091170" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 600px; height: 400px; " /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyaYsv51cCdaA_q7aiQsZx4QgfPdNJAosBsEI-AdSyolmFYJlk0W1kMw4Z6djs1ZdZBK2IITp3vnm77jcQJzptaSeRKeAzycF9FYvsJIST9Qz4heCO_tg0gDMbCZ3knLFasDxzTEd2dhG/s1600-h/IMG_1464.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyaYsv51cCdaA_q7aiQsZx4QgfPdNJAosBsEI-AdSyolmFYJlk0W1kMw4Z6djs1ZdZBK2IITp3vnm77jcQJzptaSeRKeAzycF9FYvsJIST9Qz4heCO_tg0gDMbCZ3knLFasDxzTEd2dhG/s1600-h/IMG_1464.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzQuMC8bQrdgrOqa_rbA-NrAKhK5zMY8V5_t-k1wRDN1fD19UTd0jeeFyg1P9qVrgCI89TmPz-_UtWCC8J_DQJJL22btCg0KyH7hFkQjoGfLt4aj1SwXuGcQaFgcVZu66ZnQDZIoSS5SG/s400/IMG_1478.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443867828846262882" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 600px; height: 400px; " /></span><div><div style="text-align: center; "><div style="text-align: center; "><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">I'd take a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">cloudy</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;"> day in the Bahamas at this point. Here's hoping that March warms up, even just a little. </span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">are you hoping for? </span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></span></span></div></div></div></div></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-87586704992992786572010-02-24T11:39:00.000-05:002010-02-24T12:45:58.623-05:00lost observations<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">So, I didn't exactly mean to not post about Lost last week. I just got lost (heh) (wow, that was really lame, sorry) - I just got caught up in a whole bunch of other things and by the time I could actually sit down and write about it, it was way after the fact. And anyway, since it was snowing in NY last week, we actually did a virtual Lost part, which wasn't nearly as fun. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Clean slate. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">This week, although the weather was still crappy (rain, snow, slush...dear summer, please hurry.) we reconvened at John's apartment. I made pasta e fagioli from my grandmother's recipe—which I can post here, actually, if anyone is interested. It turned out really well, which got my hopes up that maybe one day I'll be able to cook somewhat decently and not have to rely on tuna fish sandwiches and Morning Star veggie burgers. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Here's what we thought throughout: </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- We were talking through the recap, but realized you can absolutely tell who the episode is going to be about by who is focused on during the 30-second catch-up. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- This season, the episodes seem to focus on one or two characters, which is totally reminiscent of earlier seasons. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Jack has a son! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- We think the mom is Kate. Although we're not sure if she and Jack have met in non-island universe. But Kate's eyes and David's eyes are super similar. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Hurley and Miles are playing Tic, Tac, Toe, which looks just as boring and pointless on the island as it does in real life. No one ever wins! They do get points for creativity in making the board out of tree branches, though. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Jacob appears to Hurley and we decide that Jacob looks like someone we know, but we're not sure who. He looks like he could have gone to one of the Catholic schools around here, which would make sense if you're going with the whole Jacob-as-Jesus-scenario.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- David doesn't want to deal with his father, and doesn't want to go to Grandma's house to look for dead Grandfather's will. Our parents would have dragged us in the car and made us go. AND forced us to take off the damn headphones. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Jin is stuck in one of Claire's traps—how in the world is his leg not more damaged? Later, when she "stitches" him up, it's just a hole. Really? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Hurley writes Jacob's direction on his arm in blue ink, which gives us immediate high school flashbacks. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- What exactly is that animal Claire is keeping in the baby crib? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Also, her hair totally looks crimped, says Dorna. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Claire is in Jack's father's will! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Why does David have an answering machine? asks Dorna. Hm, we wonder, no one has answering machines anymore, do they? We later get into a discussion about cell phones and high school and how kids must text answers to other kids from the bathroom. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Jack and Hurley arrive at the Lighthouse. Of course there's a 4-story lighthouse! Of course it wouldn't take years to build by who the hell knows who! Of course they never noticed it before! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- In Claire's tent, we sort of feel bad for the Other guy. Also, to back up for a second, did anyone else notice that when Claire was stitching up Jin's wound, he was totally sweating? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Japanese-speaking, Other-leader is at the auditions David ran away to attend! Creepy. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Dorna informs us that she played piano for 10 years. John and I think she should have auditioned for Julliard. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- At the lighthouse, Hurley starts to move the dial. Isn't this how the island moved back in the day? We wonder who's coming to the island. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- We want screen grabs of the names on the dial. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Jack has a lead pipe in his hand - how is Hurley not scared he's going to smash <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">him</span> and not the mirrors? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- What exactly is Jack contemplating by the ocean? He's still annoying, we think. Too self righteous or something. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- Ah, but Jacob says some people need to contemplate by the ocean in order to figure it all out. We stand corrected. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- We think we're going to find out who David's mother is by the end of the episode, but instead, we find out that crazy mother Claire isn't too happy that Kate was taking on her role. We say: Wouldn't she want Aaron off the damn island? It obviously hasn't helped Claire much. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">- I might stop watching this show if the preview credits for "next week's episode" don't stop saying QUESTIONS WILL BE ANSWERED. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Overall thoughts: Island-Claire is way too Rousseau-like. Mothers suffering for their children, would do anything for them - even hack a guy with an ax and befriend crazy smoke-monster Locke and all that. Meh. I don't know, it's kind of lame. Also, this episode totally made us think back to high school. Which, since we had a pretty decent time in high school, is fine by us. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Your thoughts? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-8387391730131482972010-02-23T13:12:00.000-05:002010-02-23T17:06:06.482-05:00old hangouts and new babies<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Before this weekend, I hadn't been to Boston in about two years. There's no real reason why, mostly because the majority of friends have moved away and I've moved on to discovering other cities. But when Joyce mentioned a conference she had to go to this past weekend, and suggested I and whoever else was up for it should tag along, I figured it would be a good a time as any to head back. <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And so mid-afternoon on Friday, after making Joyce wait a good hour while I grabbed some last minute, just-in-case clothes (although I forgot my toothbrush, as usual) and sent some last minute, don't-want-to-look-at-my-computer-for two-days emails, we dumped our weekend bags into the trunk of her Camry and headed east on 84. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I love car rides where you're so engrossed in conversation that you forget to even turn on the radio. When you don't have to bother pressing Scan in hopes of finding a good song playing somewhere in nowhere Connecticut or settle with "Oh, this must be their version of Z100," and hear Kesha for the 8 millionth time. So thankfully, we amused ourselves with talk of weddings and residencies, future jobs and past boyfriends. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Four hours later we hit the city, taking note of BU's newest </span><a href="http://www.boston.com/realestate/gallery/09_01_09_BU_dorms_open/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">dorm</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, and confirming that the</span><a href="http://www.bu.edu/housing/residences/stuv/10buick/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Student Village</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> will, in fact, be the nicest apartment either of us ever live in. We GPS-ed our way downtown to School St., where we checked into the </span><a href="http://www.omnihotels.com/FindAHotel/BostonParkerHouse.aspx"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Omni Parker House Hote</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">l. (We also found out it's where the Boston Cream Pie was first created! Oo, but here's the </span><a href="http://www.omnihotels.com/upload/images/hotels/bospar/pdf/parker%20house%20boston%20cream%20pie.pdf"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">recipe</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">!) Once we crossed Sunset Cantina off our list of dinner choices, we walked around in the not-as-cold-as-expected night, got shut out by a 2-hour wait at Toro and finally settled into a table by the bar at </span><a href="http://www.masarestaurant.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Masa</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, where tapas were $1 each. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On Saturday morning, after an ill-fated 6am wake-up call (proving that Joyce still hasn't learned that she and alarms don't get along very well, no matter the medium or size of pillow being thrown at her face), she headed to the conference while I had a Starbucks and writing session. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Later that afternoon, I met up with Azalea and her friend Alicia for the prerequisite </span><a href="http://www.annastaqueria.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anna's</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> visit (they have a new location! in (on?) Beacon Hill! with two floors!). If you went to school, lived or just visit Boston regularly, you're probably familiar with the amazing burritos at Anna's Taqueria - and if you're not, and you're planning a trip there, do yourself a favor and add it to the itinerary. And can I just recommend the $3.99 grilled vegetable burrito? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The girls went off to study while I wandered up and down Newbury St, in and out of stores, remembering when books from Urban were the ideal birthday present. Later, I made my way through the Commons (in the pic below) to meet up with Joyce, passing a saxophonist playing Disney tunes and a middle-aged couple engaged in a serious make-out session next to him. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwP0rwBygFkJBpYtyIinae-irLRiIGghHR58aUBgHi4qjmPuMYK0useaHcDxqPV3U0w0ENEyH_DdkEsEn2BN_UxIBeypcT2LyXUjjTpbaXJF8JU2_nlDqrZt5WzhPTXAqqCI2xHXFmAme/s400/IMG_1435.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441533419264679362" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Learning our lesson from the night before, on Saturday we actually picked a restaurant before going out. As we walked down Boylston and into Vlora, I had a feeling I had been here before, although in a completely different context. If you were in Boston circa 2002, let me ask you this: Do you remember Q Vin's? And if so, was there an elevator that took you down to the bar? Because that's what I kept imagining, or that's how my memory preserved it, like some city speakeasy where everyone sang off-key. I remember the karaoke clearly, though, even if everything else is slightly blurry. Even if it's what happened after, through a haze of cold and hands stuffed into too-small pockets that I remember much clearer. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ZbnBpIU6sH0m-dOk14wb82UffL94Wb7n7avu26n10P6qICB79fTQqURKTdss8TfJjY1KF6FwnO51fvQTObMNnD2QIsPFJ0qxIpQAohSdbWWTGp5lDlFVkBsnqSVPjNbT2P-3Do4-KaSo/s400/IMG_1443.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441533429757278002" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Joyce and I ended with </span><a href="http://www.finaledesserts.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Finale</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and a late screening of Dear John, which proved that A. We're not in college anymore and B. I'm a sucker for romances. And </span><a href="http://www.gq.com/entertainment/celebrities/200907/gi-joe-channing-tatum-photos-video-lisa-depaulo-slideshows#slide=2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Channing Tatum's abs</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAkyUo7y-EWM50VYkzi2NlzXNEVnNasTWGK4fSUEsIu4sIcWH0607YXGfE9xqgOnDeW0NYL4pHMtFDYviUHr1e7ayXhY07vFqFcaS_Jjkd1F6D_Z7siRlDn-3ciJ5ViMwo0K2ml_3aPWoq/s400/IMG_1444.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441534080948631474" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On Sunday morning we left early with Azalea to head to Salem to meet Darius, the darling little boy that our friends Laura and Darryl just had. Tell me he's not the cutest baby ever? Those cheeks are seriously amazing. </span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmSjlNh_8m5HANCtOeBcDbS9L_3JjSx_14dFW0UotT4qkSZhxYXivh1O47dD003qtIWSoCOpJq2OoDmw5dUwpQweYQydSfIBM56tOl8WvR96lCmvIjSGqgLECvECvvWehdvnRCM2_TGQ5/s1600-h/IMG_1459.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmSjlNh_8m5HANCtOeBcDbS9L_3JjSx_14dFW0UotT4qkSZhxYXivh1O47dD003qtIWSoCOpJq2OoDmw5dUwpQweYQydSfIBM56tOl8WvR96lCmvIjSGqgLECvECvvWehdvnRCM2_TGQ5/s400/IMG_1459.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441534107678637554" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Here's mommy and baby. Darius turned 1-month old on Sunday and we gave him three Dr. Seuss books to mark the occasion. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Tmmwro-_deG4V9zFwXcmq_GTqGcmtitnfx13WM_pnlGxy-sO7DZNxjzMGDnWVueZHeaft-NAKvK455rFJ7F7Sv9gYr3imKbfWIUUzI6OrqveNXHxFK4Nsb-Vh3awzOb4h5XBHhwlLDw2/s1600-h/IMG_1456.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Tmmwro-_deG4V9zFwXcmq_GTqGcmtitnfx13WM_pnlGxy-sO7DZNxjzMGDnWVueZHeaft-NAKvK455rFJ7F7Sv9gYr3imKbfWIUUzI6OrqveNXHxFK4Nsb-Vh3awzOb4h5XBHhwlLDw2/s400/IMG_1456.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441534097291327698" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And Azalea with baby - so sweet. The four of us went to high school together and Laura's the first of our group of friends to have a baby. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zbq4vUiEJmnIlwp_aGC68MoGYzkC51sLyOAeTCSblb1oCLoHHh1WG5IV6D8I7OkVxXUAefBxovBLtXnZ1VMvovElDG_1TDn0alm_H2aD7_P1mmJCcpzrHjuSOH8iqOQkG2-tsxMW4A5I/s1600-h/IMG_1445.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zbq4vUiEJmnIlwp_aGC68MoGYzkC51sLyOAeTCSblb1oCLoHHh1WG5IV6D8I7OkVxXUAefBxovBLtXnZ1VMvovElDG_1TDn0alm_H2aD7_P1mmJCcpzrHjuSOH8iqOQkG2-tsxMW4A5I/s400/IMG_1445.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441534084380066210" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />After a pizza lunch and a four-hour car ride home, Joyce and I made one last stop to see Melissa and Cheri's new condo, which is super close and makes me quite excited for many dinner parties together. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The whole weekend was a fun realization that things have changed, but not all that much. That the same people I knew when I left for Boston are the same people that I still see in New York. That people have come and gone along the way. That that's ok. That with new babies and new condos and new experiences, the growing up part doesn't really seem so scary, afterall. <br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-38836040196178604102010-02-22T23:18:00.000-05:002010-02-23T00:17:34.122-05:00necklace love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9y9aQ-W1Dqj56jAeiC7b2SbQZe1M9ZCn5tNXHGAw8MLrszffX4z4tDAe83XAhx1Vt3A4xybf907ZxO8jyRS6lkbqRRdC-qG0V6LFK8a-Z3zG5ip4roe3mr1S3zPWifHh6RtxNa9pJtYR3/s1600-h/il_430xN.124503095.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9y9aQ-W1Dqj56jAeiC7b2SbQZe1M9ZCn5tNXHGAw8MLrszffX4z4tDAe83XAhx1Vt3A4xybf907ZxO8jyRS6lkbqRRdC-qG0V6LFK8a-Z3zG5ip4roe3mr1S3zPWifHh6RtxNa9pJtYR3/s400/il_430xN.124503095.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441293537210406018" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL89IOKOXMRrAnHKxsDXPo3sOQC2YkW10-uviXSMSPFidWAfuTiK46-SbGlNGq_16ajbDOWzaJdZh87lBCYAwnR4VnAvZ-5tihy-GRe-iF0V_ZWjaa-zxSMFJpxrCdGv8h7SiWytLeT10o/s400/il_430xN.59454139.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441288909289369330" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTB3C0RA_ac4Xbs2-xJVSeiBDxxgSV5NlRWO0q_WHDWf1f-ArtCBl3c20Fn2DINbhosurWTGj9ec-aC3zrulDVDKccejNPd00cg46ZGlcgbWG1o_GT6NVTVRaYOQ3HQi_XoIKSJ-gieTvW/s1600-h/il_430xN.90969493.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTB3C0RA_ac4Xbs2-xJVSeiBDxxgSV5NlRWO0q_WHDWf1f-ArtCBl3c20Fn2DINbhosurWTGj9ec-aC3zrulDVDKccejNPd00cg46ZGlcgbWG1o_GT6NVTVRaYOQ3HQi_XoIKSJ-gieTvW/s400/il_430xN.90969493.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441288929158855506" /></a><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A couple months ago, Dorna and I were shopping at </span><a href="http://www.beehiveco-op.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Beehive Co-Op</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> in Mount Kisco, an awesome little shop that sells lots of locally made and handcrafted items, when I spotted </span><a href="http://www.throwingstarsjewelry.com/ThrowingStarsJewelry.com/Welcome.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Throwing Stars Jewelry</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Designer Amy Leff makes such pretty pieces, including earrings, cuffs and rings. But my favorite are the necklaces. I love how they range from sweet to dressy to funky and statement-making. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Find more designs and do some shopping </span><a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/throwingstars"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">here</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">[photos via </span><a href="http://www.etsy.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Etsy</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">] </span></div></div></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-51338867970614873092010-02-13T09:46:00.000-05:002010-02-13T11:39:40.184-05:00so, wanna be my bridesmaid?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I can't believe it's taken me this long to post about the bridesmaid dinner I hosted a whole two weeks ago. But, it wasn't totally my fault as I had to wait until the gifts I made each of them were safely in the hands of my cross-country bridesmaids. (Although, I guess it sort of was my fault since I waited something like four days after the dinner to actually mail them.) </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But, now, I'm so excited because all 10 girls finally know. Oh and yes, you read that right—10. We're having ten bridesmaids—and that's just the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">maids</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, it's not counting the groomsmen, flower girls, ring bearers, readers etc. etc. that in my mind make up the entire bridal party. At first I thought, wow, that's a big number, but then I realized I have this habit of collecting close friends as I go through life. I've know my maid of honor since kindergarten, half the bridesmaids from high school and the other half since college. Learning to rollerblade, waiting for the ice cream man, throwing a million surprise parties, getting driven by the cops to prom (oh, that deserves a post all its own), surviving Warren Towers, eating at the GSU and drinking in Barbados would never have been the same without them. And with the exception of Jennifer, John's sister—who I'll be spending many holiday dinners with and therefore gets lots of years added to the total by default—by the time our wedding rolls around next year, I'll have known all of the girls for no less than 10 years each. That seems like a perfect round number, no? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So two Saturdays ago, I hosted a lovely little dinner in their honor. Since I've been bitten by the prerequisite engagement </span><a href="http://sparkleandreflect.blogspot.com/2010/01/beyond-cut-and-paste.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">craft</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> bug, I wanted to make something wherein I would ask each to be in my wedding party. My inspiration came partly from the awesome pieces I saw on Nice Package and partly from this DIY idea on </span><a href="http://www.projectwedding.com/wedding-ideas/diy-bridesmaid-gift-boxes"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Project Wedding</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">—although I changed it a bit. I found some plain brown boxes and inside I put three pieces of champagne-colored square card stock on top of tissue paper. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The first card they saw had a small white pouch filled with chocolates on it and it read: "You're so sweet..." </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">They lifted up that card and the second had a black picture frame with a photo of us (and other friends) and it read: "And you've been such a good friend, for so many years..." </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Finally, when they lifted up the last one, it read: "That it makes me so happy to ask, Will you be my bridesmaid?" </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I wrapped the whole thing with green ribbon, which is one of the wedding colors. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The finished boxes looked like this: </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_F9NP0sP5pi65l72s_3S04SlJg8noMjKvRgAWshNUEsKqn0aUcM0xPtGDLszQ16FTfI1nnRN6lTcba6Pmvj_Y8RcpEueoTnT_AZQ3-8W91hS0m87C3e7ZcsGpLMdCwTVeCNyCC-b1g9P/s400/IMG_1372.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437758735148327890" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And the end result of them being opened looked like this: </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0IR1WNHZZi0TX0zZiR6m74PrhNT8VYG2pR7qhNeCPHlJnBxxdWdEgB2b7yIKT-Oe0LVRx15G-11N3uuKR-OU-XhaX9CnInDpYvRwmU8s8NFNp9zS0WE9XiiIfLrrGAnctRrI8WH_WM4q7/s400/IMG_1399.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437758760078469986" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The whole table, which are in the wedding colors, came together quite nicely. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbOugY5BQazJ7mBv3ING0R70tQbQEItNkpc9jwCmKRyMm86TujkmL4WMz8usfUqCEwj8cWXl56EMt_mdjA2VeZX2GCZNmZjXM-jFw35kQFg0DLpMcjK8z0H4hX6wDtgRTlpQy4E18B5hQ/s400/IMG_1392.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437758753522175874" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Thanks, in part to Karen's vases: </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KdLQF_HUUUc1DqI8Qv8Eouo6fN8_YRMc5a-3Iba40rHGDNCW-nWKAYy1mMRjGyxuafoen-VfSndVsxnuO0InkuVaEEnccHaCa7ijumZ9y02fczd4_1-viIucUZGgNGCp0K-i_OWuIBgS/s400/IMG_1374.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437758744018756834" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We started with hummus, cheese and bruschetta and then ate pasta with eggplant and mozzarella, chicken francese, sweet mashed potatoes and peas and mushrooms. Everyone looked happily stuffed at the end, which totally equals success in my world. </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYqNpR8jsXTKm9t_5glLNxKHiObIrSSEdT82EsBn8wTVQkQeye4RSe6cCQ18KooHXtJMpw3sCuPOQmdYCP_yHyZDgG8q6p3xOv5CYypzw0zwi0tTnhi7G25vOrgRmhSdAZx4ewGANfKm3x/s400/IMG_1405.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437766094507814834" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Even though Shannon, Erica and Sabina were too far and too snow-bound to make it, they were totally there in spirit. And overall, I'm just so happy and lucky that I'll have a group of smart, beautiful, talented and amazing girls by my side. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold; font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); font-weight: normal; font-size:16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0KSUVjPBG2S9_IyO1GhPHuctymlTw0414GC42d8wayahUjhLSZNqwz0mSaPsQWM9U3WdVJMu_qCWI1KK8LNps9WlBM0XDJNvXJs-WNYj6ZCi8RP_tqsupgoolxlRTWfQszVleQ6CEGUZS/s400/IMG_1401.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437764678079176306" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 48px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); font-size: 16px; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSKUKmHekzYtbqV6mhhUDiS_ZMFZSUavi2YiJKV1oBgqHKQ6wc68cFRrgaK28KTEKitMpjuYbebP-rmwkEhAPnOMFI7lihG2UsW226qMJuDWjqX4iT64FDNUzllVsG_TWbVmg17hiS8OD/s400/IMG_1410.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437766106716194786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 328px; " /></span></span></div><div><br /></div></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-83044731666271515332010-02-10T18:36:00.000-05:002010-02-10T18:37:44.461-05:00happy birthday, chris!<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I just wanted to wish a very happy 20th birthday to my youngest brother, Chris, an amazing person who sings solo at open mic nights, truly believes the old "an apple a day keeps the doctor away," and seriously makes our family so much fun. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwBX-TwdGAvf8zBiTTcjotMvJvLhzGrAh1_1LK5SC8iuvjOvDz08YKvdhRFNbCSh5iCrLolnLMynpHS_unYghDYxss894l07BwvCJHaU8aTsK7ObULkCn3vhFBDDrV3VEr76cQcVBcpz8X/s400/7622_637207329402_16111041_37014368_6141456_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436762019709472866" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; "><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Happy Birthday!!! xxox </span></span></p></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-9492319841296659502010-02-10T17:24:00.001-05:002010-02-10T18:35:55.676-05:00lost observations<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Before we begin this next installment of </span><a href="http://sparkleandreflect.blogspot.com/2010/02/and-so-starts-final-season.html"><span style="text-decoration:none;text-underline:nonecolor:#4A2486;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Observations Made While Watching Lost</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, can someone please, please, pretty please suggest another name besides "Lost Observations" or the even more verbose "Observations Made While Watching Lost?" Hello, boring. Any thoughts on that would be much appreciated. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And now, on with it.... </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So last night, Dorna made us an awesome dish that was full of eggplant and tomatoes and garlic and eggs. We ate it with whole wheat pita's, while watching the opening credits and it was so so good. Unfortunately, I kind of forgot to take a photo. Next time! </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Here's what we thought throughout: </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Sayid is alive! As Jacob! We think. Whatever, we called it. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Claire is back! And in LA! Pregnant? </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">-</span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Italic;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> Of course </span></i></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Kate is going to bring back Sawyer. And </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Italic;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">of course</span></i></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, she can be "very convincing." </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Why does Claire want her suitcase so bad? </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- I wish I could be totally unflinching if someone stuck a gun in my face too, mechanic-guy. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- John wonders why Kate can steal a cab and leave Claire on the street, but then feels guilty when she sees a stuffed whale? </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Explains why Claire wanted her suitcase, though. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Dorna says that the hippie-looking guy is named Lennon, which is way, way lame. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- I wonder if, while Sayid is being tortured he's thinking: Karma. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Now Claire, why would you get in the car with someone who 2 scenes ago pointed a gun at you? </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Kate is still way too Joey Potter for me to handle. I don't care if she's a "criminal." </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Dorna loves the fact that the guy helping Kate and Jin find Sawyer is the creator of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- If Always Sunny in Philadelphia guy was the one who Kate hit before escaping the cages, then does that mean that these guys are Others? So they're NOT new characters, then? Confused. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Jack is always trying to save the day. And it's annoying. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Sayid really trusts Jack? </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- The pill looks like Ginko Biloba. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Honestly, I thought that when Aaron's almost-adoptive mom opened the door, she would be someone we knew. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- So it made me feel better when Ethan was her doctor. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- There are lots of creepy-looking people on this show, btw. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Also, why does it seem like Ethan's lying when he says that Claire doesn't have to deliver the baby right away? </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Poor Sawyer, maybe he really loved Juliet. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- The Ginko Biloba is actually Poison. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Why in the world would Claire give Criminal Kate her credit card? </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Because she's just going to cancel it later, obvs, say John and Dorna. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Maybe Sayid is </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Italic;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">actually</span></i></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> the black-shirted guy (which a friend I talked to this weekend kept calling Esau), and maybe black doesn't mean evil, afterall? </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Finally they let Jack in on the fact that Claire's his sister. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Always Sunny Guy is shot, by Claire!</span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Overall thoughts: This show felt alot like filler. It seemed to be setting up a few of the subplots and was there for some explanation but mostly to keep moving the show forward. </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Bold;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">What were your thoughts on the episode? </span></b></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> <br /></span></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div></span>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-5988165063099294882010-02-10T00:46:00.000-05:002010-02-10T01:19:02.930-05:00words<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA1TeN65xjWhGAlNFhFOpbg9m02aGA-25jJ-UG0dTmvucPh9DmQZPBPzwJWiVPqHKSxYp-TTbBPdYio9P53ljZ6O80R-d8qBDDL8Kikbzr9GyGYRXmCdrrcnz_oH6NVdxyQhrLYhLa_F7p/s1600-h/carminetrain.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA1TeN65xjWhGAlNFhFOpbg9m02aGA-25jJ-UG0dTmvucPh9DmQZPBPzwJWiVPqHKSxYp-TTbBPdYio9P53ljZ6O80R-d8qBDDL8Kikbzr9GyGYRXmCdrrcnz_oH6NVdxyQhrLYhLa_F7p/s400/carminetrain.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436487300931847202" style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 230px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><br /></span></div></div><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">"I</span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">f you have a broken heart or a battered soul</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">Find something to hold on to or to let go</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><br /></span></span></div></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">To help you through the hard nights like a flask filled with hope</span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know."</span></span></span></div></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">- </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">Brett Dennen, "Darlin' Do Not Fear"</span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A perfect remedy if you ever need inspiration and/or a reminder that no matter what, life is, in fact, pretty amazing: </span><a href="http://brettdennen.net/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Brett Dennen</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> on repeat. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-18212824057781185582010-02-05T22:44:00.000-05:002010-02-05T23:47:34.571-05:00happy world nutella day!<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 48px; "><img class="center" align="center" title="button_2010" src="http://www.nutelladay.com/wp-content/uploads/button_2010.jpg" alt="" width="125" height="89" style="border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 100%; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; border-top-width: 1px; border-right-width: 1px; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-width: 1px; border-top-style: solid; border-right-style: solid; border-bottom-style: solid; border-left-style: solid; border-top-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-right-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-bottom-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); text-align: center; background-color: rgb(250, 250, 250); padding-top: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; margin-top: 5px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; -webkit-border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; -webkit-border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; -webkit-border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; -webkit-border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; background-position: initial initial; " /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; font-size:48px;"> </span></span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 21px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A couple months ago I was on Facebook and I stumbled upon the wonderful fact that February 5 is </span><a href="http://www.nutelladay.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">World Nutella Day</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">! Who knew? Apparently lots of people, actually, as this is the fourth year it's been happening. Four years! How could I have missed this? Especially because in my family almost every day is World Nutella Day—particularly if you're my brother Carmine, who has been known to eat quadruple-decker Nutella sandwiches and is the willing recipient of jars and jars of the stuff from our grandmother. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It's been a diet staple for as long as I can remember, smeared on bread and pancakes, eaten off a spoon or the end of a knife, served at breakfast and after dinner. Or, if we were really lucky and happened to be in Italy and it happened to be the week of the feast and all the adults just so happened to leave the house earlier than usual, in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">place</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> of actual dinner. Then, feeling like we had actually gotten away with something, we'd pair Nutella with peanut butter on two slices of </span><a href="http://www.mulinobianco.it/?q=node/62"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">PanCarr</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "><a href="http://www.mulinobianco.it/?q=node/62"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">è</span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">—the perfect mesh of our Italian and American-ness. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So, to celebrate this joyous occasion, John and I decided to make crepes with Nutella from an awesome (and easy) recipe provided by his mom. They took us about 15 minutes to make and tasted great, if we do say so ourselves. Now, in keeping with the theme, we're going to round out our night watching Fellini's </span><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0069191/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Roma</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Here's what they looked like: </span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7AzI2_BMtAaA28GHEws80T1J592IOKSCPKj_ZqUfU9mpn7D45s2bOk1dKdoT9zZEMtZidrC4p1r78kkFiFCVamuw0X_zr4-HZX7RoiIFhjhegptq2C5EBqMg3M2HpGYy8ElCoxKc2qmkY/s1600-h/IMG_1418.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7AzI2_BMtAaA28GHEws80T1J592IOKSCPKj_ZqUfU9mpn7D45s2bOk1dKdoT9zZEMtZidrC4p1r78kkFiFCVamuw0X_zr4-HZX7RoiIFhjhegptq2C5EBqMg3M2HpGYy8ElCoxKc2qmkY/s400/IMG_1418.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434973000058455490" /></a><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8TRgXpZaCexA8VhXT39It8jVEPEajrX4I4c8FgANwRkxpOGpbmK_hYmin8JNUOydstsbfGQ0qJGigs49UOPBvvyvGoifmJ9MkWfiNd55skzD05b3_Q-RhAcfw2BdsxPfPnwclcO36_K0e/s1600-h/IMG_1420.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8TRgXpZaCexA8VhXT39It8jVEPEajrX4I4c8FgANwRkxpOGpbmK_hYmin8JNUOydstsbfGQ0qJGigs49UOPBvvyvGoifmJ9MkWfiNd55skzD05b3_Q-RhAcfw2BdsxPfPnwclcO36_K0e/s400/IMG_1420.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434973008959253634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">And here's more evidence that I should never become a food photographer...</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">What's your favorite way to eat Nutella? <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; ">Oh, and one more thing, while we're on the subject, has anyone heard of anyone making spaghetti with Nutella? I swear I heard this years ago and I never known anyone to do it, but one of these days, I think I'm going to try... </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-67132318641389387142010-02-03T16:00:00.000-05:002010-02-03T17:12:42.486-05:00and so starts the final season...<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I actually remember the first episode of Lost. I was living in Boston, in my senior year of college, and my roommate Erica was sitting on the couch watching it. The rest of us made fun of her for quite some time, citing the sci-fi aspect and who really survives a plane crash in the middle of the ocean? We were much more content with the realistic content in Grey's Anatomy and the O.C. <br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But, I apologize now to Erica, on the Internet and everything, because a few summers later, John and I spent way too much time indoors catching up on all the seasons. (I actually sometimes think it was more satisfying watching it on DVD, since we could just go on to the next episode without waiting an entire week and sorting through a whole bunch of speculation to get there.) I realized after watching episode after episode that the show was great and entertaining, even if at times ridiculous. Added bonus: The wonderful Dorna and Pedro were equally obsessed. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So, last year we started our own little Lost parties on Wednesday nights where we alternated between eating Greek, pizza, Turkish and sometimes leftovers, consistently trying to figure out what the hell we were missing/forgot/didn't understand. This year, the tradition starts again—although we're down one person, with Pedro moving to Philadelphia and all. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Last night, we put together the ingredients needed for a proper premiere: </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); font-size:16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiidelFMXie2qLOVkRaarcNUNWJC4QRP9yvLa4zMAb1TV9NSU87DF9B4qMJYYo-T1qEraEKQRjb-cjgwENrlj2KxKRrvRVbCtrw48RYUNTy8SWlEKKuxdC8W3eh18cjhp2n7RPA_r7k-UM9/s400/IMG00024-20100202-1934.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434132081718899426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">1. Cooking. Oh, didn't you know? We're all grown up now. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Oh no, I definitely didn't take this mashed potato mix from my mom's kitchen. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBNJPONQG1FZmiyzz7NBlLgyA40SqwLBzyYI2TZS8RLUAcliCnH1eoGXsIH_-POiAQgQaTiI7TkmvH0oCcA8iAGIz6ZzKYWu3y1Qv5AeZzW2KhNCqRpPoQ9ApmIsG8lgx507FHBhLQ8DVO/s400/IMG00027-20100202-1935.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434132088798970194" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">2. Actual cooked food. Very strategic placement by Dorna, I should add. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); font-size:16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Wib5JBEAhfdxXisgLuH4fU2Ji2o7Vo-v4VKvWqpjKf38t-heH2YEgZFgEmRr5ykPBFi3Tw9hkVsxJDdqlX4UdnMekSecnnjD2ZMJKqBYLGTB56WvZRjw1pLsyCarOeV1ow9c6KUoeZeL/s400/IMG00036-20100202-2213.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434132103664106450" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">3. Snuggie/Mermaid costume stand-in. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); font-size:16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4WYS1C7mYf6tBcIlNNFgkyGSkPoVOex15a7c6BvtAVA2FRARiO77zcpVb_wcF4t-oXevFYON6AV-UfzZxBe9VQvWM7-u-mjUvE-Ztv4ME8xU1wb-3iMzUPffpzzwZAM-zN3YnSxuV-f7/s400/IMG00037-20100202-2213.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434132100143145490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">4. Fire. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_r0EC5bZJyqVx-jubcfNiQz3SsxxtMd7krCKlW3-IskE168KclKvFoTjr7JcEcQEBhx9_2klBBD1zAT2EMp-atUXVUyMyvsQctBopgiDLW4-OedrH-UDNAox7pTfWCx6bXI-bwWfl4-K/s400/IMG00038-20100202-2215.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434134285285639010" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 293px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">5. Necessary "What, how is that even possible?" face. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Some observations we made while watching: </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">There might be some spoilers in here, so if you haven't seen the episode yet, get on that. and then come back here and let's talk about it! Oh, and I kind of forgot to write down who said what and when, even though I think, in theory, I meant to.) </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- Last season, the color of Juliet and Sawyer's hair completely clashed. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- We don't like Evangeline Lily's hair in that L'oreal commercial. We prefer it all unwashed and wavy-like. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">- We are obsessed with hair. Ever notice how Sawyer's always looks wind-blown? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:16px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">- Airplane! Is this happening at the same time? Or are we going to see it all meld together in the end? </span></div></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:16px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">- Bad CGI, says Dorna. </span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">- But Desmond's still cute. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">- The TV is fuzzy already, but now the sound, too? Oh, oops, sorry, now they can hear. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">- Bernard and Rose are so cute. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">- Does anyone else remember how the guy sitting between Locke and Boone is the one from the Aaron Burr peanut butter commercial? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:16px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">- Locke's body was inhabited by the black-shirt-wearing guy. But why does he want to kill Jacob? </span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">- How in the world does Juliet survive beneath all that metal? </span><br /></div></span></span></div></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">- Charlie's back!! </span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">- We assume Juliet will die cause she's on that new show. </span></div><div>- <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">More new characters?! The other others? </span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">- Kate and Sawyer are totally Joey and Pacey. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">- Sayid is dead. But not for long, we think. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">- If some strangers who just lied to you about killing/not killing your friend, would you really take the food/drink they offered? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">- I liked Locke better pre-smoke monster. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">- We called it halfway through: Jacob is inhabiting Sayid's body. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">Overall thoughts, from Dorna:<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I feel like we're seeing the most basic and common of themes kinda emerge in the most intricate of TV storylines ever: good, evil, fate, destiny. F<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia;">unny how, even with a complex show like Lost...it boils down to that. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">So, what did you think?? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-25869218801144175572010-01-28T12:24:00.001-05:002010-01-29T10:52:13.010-05:00beyond cut and paste<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I've been attempting to spread my "crafty" wings lately. I want to finally graduate from the school of construction paper and pipe cleaners and on to ribbon and gift tags and homemade cupcake wrappers. I'm starting to wonder if this is a symptom of engagement, as it seems everywhere I go I find DIY projects ranging from </span><a href="http://www.oncewed.com/25512/wedding-blog/diy-wedding/diy-cake-icing-tip-place-card-holders/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">place card holders made from icing tips</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> to </span><a href="http://www.stylemepretty.com/2010/01/13/michigan-wedding-with-diy-charm/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">this fun and colorful wedding</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">I'm actually in the midst of working on something now, which I'll hopefully share with you very soon. But a few weeks back, when I was looking to buy some ribbon, I stumbled upon this little shop that sells the prettiest packaging. Plus, it's called <a href="http://www.nicepackageshop.com/">Nice Package</a>, which makes it even better. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0XLd5Z2CVFaRgGT-IV0Om_3-5B5K9HefGpOje0bEK2Wq9wg0WQuLFzEpesVhaaYDJO5fDvSlxzlHiuAjFjNHaor5qTJQThNr9J__FiQNRlVYnKx0JQvgIDW553DrNqNMO23n4PucyARN7/s1600-h/300.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 231px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0XLd5Z2CVFaRgGT-IV0Om_3-5B5K9HefGpOje0bEK2Wq9wg0WQuLFzEpesVhaaYDJO5fDvSlxzlHiuAjFjNHaor5qTJQThNr9J__FiQNRlVYnKx0JQvgIDW553DrNqNMO23n4PucyARN7/s400/300.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431843668484387490" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqNlh-qnRbljIIVKm8hXKNsT-R7U4r40oUl_1ky_GYXFe8G8yt2dqYqrJcwEXyCWclqsfjHhmstNDaAMU04JZ_t3iQ1I5Imu467uJONRWP7asEt4K7HXw1l8eDf4MRMB1_9gwcA-1Q5jo/s1600-h/300-5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqNlh-qnRbljIIVKm8hXKNsT-R7U4r40oUl_1ky_GYXFe8G8yt2dqYqrJcwEXyCWclqsfjHhmstNDaAMU04JZ_t3iQ1I5Imu467uJONRWP7asEt4K7HXw1l8eDf4MRMB1_9gwcA-1Q5jo/s400/300-5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431844976257043538" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAblPfYFSKyPAn4vfcdk5Rau8WogbvZXXpFwDno3p3vnwrWdYcKScBLlQ3zTkSXlgPZZVrfIRd0C1Ql74yciB40C0IB5lCH_1OYuab_WrqMOVBRQmhZLTy7h4eULDSt8gKR0Fk7C3lIt1/s1600-h/300-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAblPfYFSKyPAn4vfcdk5Rau8WogbvZXXpFwDno3p3vnwrWdYcKScBLlQ3zTkSXlgPZZVrfIRd0C1Ql74yciB40C0IB5lCH_1OYuab_WrqMOVBRQmhZLTy7h4eULDSt8gKR0Fk7C3lIt1/s400/300-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431844778974098354" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqt63R_UC107AhCyY3nBpz3MBrRRwsfrm4FMhtOR-1r4JPUlcdpHlm_7WobwGZi7juaeKZepqt9svefktZowX7Vd4AX5_vI2O1fmjUxGzJYqhdzZIJ6CyX2Qff0whyp3hSjql2GQ_4xsKH/s1600-h/300-4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqt63R_UC107AhCyY3nBpz3MBrRRwsfrm4FMhtOR-1r4JPUlcdpHlm_7WobwGZi7juaeKZepqt9svefktZowX7Vd4AX5_vI2O1fmjUxGzJYqhdzZIJ6CyX2Qff0whyp3hSjql2GQ_4xsKH/s400/300-4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431843781303894210" /></a><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I think I am now officially ready to ditch the safety scissors. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But am I the last one to jump in? Do you like to make/create? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 48px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">[Photos via <a href="http://www.nicepackageshop.com/">Nice Package</a>] </span></div><div><br /></div>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-84066657198371961642010-01-26T10:58:00.000-05:002010-01-26T12:15:30.367-05:00words<div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); font-family:Georgia;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-uhJx8e4MVRjWL0eawmOz_p-fzoZJwsXGUr6hlKtHQLlUH4ATuFKnFdLtPRJheOTxEAXeGk_rv04xv6FQsfu2t8vBgfzdxbEFFpjOLbRC1SKg3Amueb2q2EBGGtfeApeYuvDA2r5lyAi/s400/IMG_1175.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431082145621900610" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0); font-size:48px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:24px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">"And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should..."</span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">-max ehrmann</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-size:13px;"></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">Today is one of those days. Where I need to read someone else's words to make me feel better. Where quotes offer reassurance in a way that my own attempt at convincing can't. Where I have so many things going through my mind and I can't seem to harness even one. So rather than try to fix it one by one, sort each one through until it either doesn't exist anymore, or has figured itself out, I just try and let it all go. Chalk it up to the universe and something larger and fate and meant to be. To this is better than that. If it's possible, I'm not sure. I don't know how good I am at it. But it's out there, and it is what it is. And maybe it will work. </span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">What do you do when you're having a bad—or just weird—day, week? </span></div></span></span></span>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-35449379659036610592010-01-21T21:22:00.000-05:002010-01-21T21:55:09.404-05:00keeping time<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj89IsB8UFTT3oaMtlnf24_RxBkUyFQlSgQXmAPpTSEvJxDvLmjKd4yhxcgHxDTDdiSeOhyphenhyphenX5BmvomsKetthFgzOrymoeKqpEV02PDNDBBvr1GADOXw0R3s7uu6wOYzM8g2Qj-gxzW6iS6L/s1600-h/poplar12o'clock.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 323px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj89IsB8UFTT3oaMtlnf24_RxBkUyFQlSgQXmAPpTSEvJxDvLmjKd4yhxcgHxDTDdiSeOhyphenhyphenX5BmvomsKetthFgzOrymoeKqpEV02PDNDBBvr1GADOXw0R3s7uu6wOYzM8g2Qj-gxzW6iS6L/s400/poplar12o'clock.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429384233091411522" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig1nLm3gb6EYAnGxE3T53sOgoUF1SklwGklV-_MAMnEyXTBsieuVEQCOef1WkTwxcs_zUTGOkDb1_lBWzc5r4v9fQe1US0Qz_qnmSpwmFr4Ovy14MUiRCr9adMGRHtKfQnr_2NgMDeHZkD/s1600-h/poplarminiclock.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 356px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig1nLm3gb6EYAnGxE3T53sOgoUF1SklwGklV-_MAMnEyXTBsieuVEQCOef1WkTwxcs_zUTGOkDb1_lBWzc5r4v9fQe1US0Qz_qnmSpwmFr4Ovy14MUiRCr9adMGRHtKfQnr_2NgMDeHZkD/s400/poplarminiclock.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429384223581388098" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_7UaIfg981ysVWxWOeoNGxQsZAUmHZmwPlfh9R6EBxhLQBsOJxONgndJDT1iYAitbos0lo0hGQ_tyvQm1PFKISNs4e33GG9RtUX90ZHKjJa_-EnQw89MkEMbxe9IFAFjQJz5nW8uU6DA/s1600-h/Mahogany9o'clock.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_7UaIfg981ysVWxWOeoNGxQsZAUmHZmwPlfh9R6EBxhLQBsOJxONgndJDT1iYAitbos0lo0hGQ_tyvQm1PFKISNs4e33GG9RtUX90ZHKjJa_-EnQw89MkEMbxe9IFAFjQJz5nW8uU6DA/s400/Mahogany9o'clock.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429384217843688050" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Aren't these clocks fun? They were created by </span><a href="http://www.lioandlinn.com/Lio%26Linn/Profile.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Masumi Hayashi </span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">of Lio & Linn, are hand painted and made of solid mahogany. Masumi also has a pretty line of jewelry, which I'm planning on posting sometime soon, but you can get a sneak peak </span><a href="http://www.lioandlinn.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">here</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">.</span>marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8653822228952550183.post-73990212116749866612010-01-20T17:50:00.000-05:002010-01-20T18:23:27.995-05:00Why taking Uggs on my honeymoon might be a good idea<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, did you see the recent <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">New York Times</span> article on the </span><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/10/travel/10places.html?pagewanted=all"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">31 Places to Go in 2010</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">? (If you didn’t, then you may or may not have heard about how </span><a href="http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2010/01/mias_new_song_is_actually_a_ne.html#comments"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">pissed</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> M.I.A. was that the newspaper named Sri Lanka number one.) But the article had lots of interesting info on places I never really thought about visiting, like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bahia">Bahia</a> in Brazil. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But, the part of the article that most caught my attention was number 9, Antarctica. See, awhile back I came up with a list of things I Must Accomplish in Life. The list ranges from the random (grow my own vegetables) to the slightly profound (publish a book, set up a charity). But overall they’re mostly fun things that I want to do at some point like learn to drive stick shift and to play a musical instrument. One of the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">most</span></i><span style="font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> fun things on the list is to visit every continent. Because let’s face it, if you’ve heard me hum, you know I have no beat/rhythm or anything else required to play a musical instrument.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And this is where the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Times</span></i><span style="font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> comes in. Denny Lee writes: “This may be the last year that Antarctica is open to mass tourism — not because the ice is melting too fast (though it is), but because of restrictions that would severely curtail travel around the fragile continent.” The restrictions, the article says, are set to take place in two years.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now, for some reason, in my mind Antarctica was the last continent on the list to visit. The one where I would be oh say, 60 or so, with an overwhelming desire to cruise and an inability to sit still on a beach for too long. But then I started thinking: Two years…2011…wedding. What about ANTARCTICA for a honeymoon?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Imagine telling people you went to Antarctica on your honeymoon? I wonder if you would meet any friends the way you always hear happens at resorts in Jamaica or Hawaii. “Oh, Jane? Yea, she’s the friend I met while soaking in the sub-zero temperatures on the deck of my Antarctic honeymoon cruise.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To be fair, there are companies that say they'll have ships ready to sail even after the restrictions—the article mentions one of them. But, c'mon, a parka emblazoned with "Bride" on the back? I might be all over it. </span></p> <!--EndFragment-->marisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08584150682068548518noreply@blogger.com3