tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90840027789102357062024-03-05T11:51:08.165-07:00Footage Missing, Insert HereVast reels of blank film run through my head to the tune of old timey silent movie piano. It is here that I hope to fill in a few of the gaps.anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-69756661609707780032012-10-07T00:59:00.001-06:002012-10-07T01:57:05.916-06:00Little Mia McDonald<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I haven't posted anything in two years primarily because Facebook has dominated my time spent cataloging my day to day life. Even having my first beautiful little baby just 12 weeks ago didn't get me back on here yet. Of course, that's because she has kept me exactly as busy as a brand new mom should be.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><a href="http://vimeo.com/32950978">How a boy named Jacob gave his heart to a girl named Mia.</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">
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<i>Mia, one of our heart friends and her mommy and family left yesterday for her Make-a-Wish trip to Disney World. Mia has suddenly become very ill and has been admitted to the children's hospital in Orlando.</i></div>
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<i>Sweet Mia is 4 years old and had her heart transplant when she was 4 months old. The doctors have told her mommy that Mia is in rejection (meaning her new heart is very sick). She is so sick and it came on so suddenly. Please keep little Mia in your prayers. She is such a precious girl.</i></div>
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From Ali (Oct 3 at 9:24pm):</div>
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<i>Here is an update from Mia's daddy:</i></div>
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<i>This is John. Please everyone pray for our perfect little girl. We need a miracle and I know God loves us and hears our pleadings. Things went wrong during the procedure and Mia is hanging on with the help of the heart lung machine (ECMO). Our hearts are broken. Please pray.</i></div>
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From Ali (Oct 4 at 9:15pm):</div>
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<i>Updates from Mia's parents:</i></div>
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<i>Keep praying for our sweet Mia. She is in a critical time where we need to see brain activity. Mimi's mom is here andher sister and my parents, brother, and several of my sisters on the way. We are so grateful for the outpouring of love. She is strong and we feel your prayers. Please pray that she will open those precious eyes of hers. We love her so much!</i></div>
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<i>I know John updated but I want to ad that Mia can pull through this. She is strong and she is supposed to meet her donors mom in a month. I really need for that to happen. Jessica has waited so long to meet Mia and has Mia talks about giving hugs to Jacob's mommy all the time. We need a miracle. We need her brain injuries to be minimal and her rejection to reverse. It can be done. Please don't give up on her. I truly believe the Lord will see us through. Also please pray for my other kiddos who are with my dear friend Rebecca. They need their sis to come home.</i></div>
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From Ali (Oct 6 at 1:27pm):</div>
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<i>Update from a relative of Mia:</i></div>
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<i>I spoke to my Dad a few minutes ago. He is in Florida now at the hospital with Mia and John & Mimi. He would like me to post an update to those praying for Mia...a neurologist/specialist will be diagnosing her in an hour or so, and meeting with John and Mimi shortly after. As John & Mimi said before...they really need Mia to open her eyes and respond to light. Based on this diagnosis, they will make a plan to stabilize her heart enough to get her off the ECMO. Their other kids have been ale to stay this week at the Disney World housing (110 miles away) that was already arranged for the family by Make-a-Wish -- friend Rebecca has been with the kids. My mom will join her soon. Make-a-Wish has also arranged for a hotel room near the hospital for family members. My Dad said that John & Mimi have felt a huge wave of support from their friends and family from afar...it has been a blessing to them to feel that. Please continue to pray for Mia's miracle.</i></div>
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From Ali (Oct 6 at 8:39pm):</div>
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<i>This is an update from one of Mia's relatives:</i></div>
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<i>Dear Friends and Family..........John and Mimi asked me to let everyone know the latest news on Little Mia. Today she was examined by a cardiologist to check her heart and a neurologist to check her brain activity, since she was deprivedof oxygen when her heart stopped beating a couple of days ago. It was determined that her heart had gotten a little stronger, but I'm so sad to say that there is no brain function. The doctors say there is no hope. We are absolutely devastated to lose our precious Mia. Her donor's mother is on her way to see Mia for the first time. Please please continue to pray for John and Mimi and their family to help them cope with this terrible tragedy.</i></div>
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From a friend of the family (Oct 6) description on YouTube video:</div>
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<i>My college friends John and Mimi McDonald's sweet little girl Mia was born with a heart defect and received a heart transplant when she was an infant. She is now 4 years old and thanks to the miraculous gift of life and her donor, has lived a vibrant, beautiful childhood. For her Make-a-Wish, she decided that she wanted to meet Minnie Mouse. So three days ago, their family (Mia, her mom and dad and her 3 siblings) flew to Florida to visit Disney World. But as soon as their plane landed, Mia was unexpectedly rushed to the hospital. Her little miraculous heart was in dreaded and shocking rejection. The doctors did a biopsy and while doing the procedure, something went wrong and Mia was put on heart and lung bypass machiines to keep her alive, fighting for her life. Late last night, John and Mimi found out the terrible news that their precious daughter's brain function was gone and there is no hope or chance for her survival. Tomorrow they are taking her off of the bypass machines. Their sweet little family is now far away from home, loved ones, and their regular and familiar doctors. And their other kids, instead of going to Disney World have been in a hotel room and in a hospital, praying for and trying to understand what is going on with their sister, just wanting her to wake up. Those of us who know the family are in complete shock. A donation was set up to help with Mia's medical expenses. Now that we know sweet Mia will not make it and instead, will be joining her donor and returning to the arms of her Heavenly Father, the McDonald family is still going to need help with this great financial burden. Perhaps now even more than ever. Now they will have to not only pay for this hospital stay, but also cover the cost of a funeral and burial for their dear little Mia (in what is already a stressful and heartbreaking time). Please, even if you are not in a position to contribute financially, consider sharing their story with others. Every little donation and prayer will help.</i></div>
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<i>http://www.giveforward.com/achangeofheart</i></div>
</span>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-22901189485703340992010-09-16T08:59:00.005-06:002010-09-16T20:32:27.201-06:00Grace and Humility<div>When my ducks were attacked by a Jack Russell last month, I put up fliers and spread the word throughout the neighborhood (which is mostly made up of our ward members) that we were looking for the owners of the dog. We ended up with a very substantial vet bill we thought they needed to be aware of since it was actually their responsibility. The dog was caught in the act, but I was more concerned about getting her the hell out of the enclosure that I didn't think twice about opening up the door and letting it out. It had no collar but once it was out I made sure to photograph exactly what it looked like in my mind as it trotted happily away, quite proud of the mess it had made of my pets.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was left very sweet notes of condolence on the fence of the enclosure, approached with inquiries at church and called several times by various people with leads when they found dogs they thought might fit the bill. I even had two other owners of Jack Russells stop by the house to see if their dog was the culprit. Neither of which were. After five weeks we had all but given up and figured we'd just have to eat the vet bill from the two who actually survived and also live on knowing that this bird killer was still out there with the potential to strike again - even though we've taken extensive and painstaking measures to further secure the enclosure.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then the elusive bandit was finally found! By some of our dearest friends, no less. They used their super-stealthy spy skills to follow the people home when they spotted them out on a walk with the dog in question and immediately called us with the information we were so desperate to collect. Being positively petrified of all the nasty things I knew I might say if I confronted them directly, we called up Animal Control to let them know we finally tracked down the dog and had an actual address. We'd initially filed a report, but the dog was long gone by the time the officer arrived. Quite unremarkably, it was found later that same day trying to break into another neighbor's chicken coop. After talking to Animal Control we figured that if nothing else, these people would at least know what kind of animal they have on their hands, get a collar and a license on her and take the necessary measures to keep her from getting loose again. All the while I'd been keeping a copy of <a href="http://le.utah.gov/~code/TITLE18/htm/18_01_000300.htm">Utah Code 18-1-3</a> close at hand, which gives me the right to put the damn thing out of my misery should it ever come near my animals again.</div><div><br /></div><div>The following day though, we got a knock on our door. When Dave came and told me it was one of the dog's owners I was filled with so many emotions that I near about shut down completely right then and there. It was all I could do to make my feet move me to that door for the long-awaited confrontation that had happened a dozen different ways (all bad) in my head up to that point. I have to tell you that even all of the amazing and dedicated support and help we received from a multitude of people we live in close proximity to throughout this ordeal, did nothing to emotionally prepare me for what awaited me on that doorstep. If you've ever seen an outpouring of true remorse from one of your fellowmen, you've seen one of the miracles possible within human nature. Even more heart-rending when directed at you personally. I'd spent over a month of unrest from the feelings of anger towards these complete strangers that I simply couldn't will away and in an instant found myself filled with sorrow for this woman joining in mine. I had wanted her to feel bad about what had happened, but once I saw that she did, all I wanted to do was take away her pain.</div><div><br /></div><div>We talked and sorted through some things and learned more about each others' circumstances, ultimately reaching that would-be awkward point of how to make it right. I told her about the bill and without hesitation she gave me her address and told me that they would take care of it. In the end, I think we were both grateful for each others' reactions. As difficult as it was for me, I can't even imagine how hard knocking on our door must have been. I have a newfound understanding of the saying that showing up is half the battle. For me I know it would have been almost all of it! Dave can attest to that as he has had to drag me kicking and screaming to do some things over the years that I knew I needed to but absolutely didn't want to do. Yes, literal kicking and screaming. Toss a few folded arms and foot stomps in there too for good measure.</div><div><br /></div><div>That woman (yes, I now know her name, but will just keep it completely anonymous) taught me a great deal about myself as well as the potential we all have. And as for my dear friends and neighbors, I am not nearly eloquent enough to express my love and gratitude for them. Instead, I'll do my best to live by and up to all these wonderful examples I'm surrounded by.</div>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-84971408703736691662010-06-27T02:11:00.001-06:002010-06-27T02:19:33.533-06:00A year? Really?I just looked at the last post I made and in just a few weeks it'll have been a year since I've posted anything. Given, I've had a lot going on, but that's probably all the more reason to keep this thing updated, eh? I also blame Facebook. I think I joined it the same week of my last post :) I've never journaled well (consistently, that is), but there are a lot of things that bring great joy and fulfillment to my life and sometimes just a good ol' barrel laugh that ought to be shared too. I'll keep this note short just to get myself back on track, but will do more writing soon and will definitely have to do some catching up on reading my favorite blogs too! Talk to you all again very soon.anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-5233342026256790242009-07-19T18:57:00.004-06:002009-07-19T20:56:45.665-06:00And That's The Way It Was...CBS News honored legendary anchorman, Walter Cronkite, this evening with a primetime special. Several things occurred to me while watching the dedication he had to his country and the journalistic integrity that is sometimes lacking in news outlets across the board today. I'll first get out of the way how unfortunate it is that this will likely be the most attention his passing receives from any media outlet considering that the network he devoted 20 years to only managed to scrape together an hour long cliff note mish-mash of his contributions and influence. While incredibly moving, it was far too abridged. Whereas there are STILL regular trash and glory sessions dedicated to the king of pop. <div><br /></div><div>I know there are only a few dissenters of my own opinions who stop by here. But I extend encouragement to those who have, rather sadly, expressed their shame, distaste and sometimes downright dislike for their native America to watch "That's The Way It Was: Remembering Walter Cronkite". We all choose to see the things we want to see in any news offered from any source. Our youthful nation has seen its fair share of mistakes with many more currently under way and many more still to come. Cronkite, however, had a way of bringing everyone together like not even the Presidents of the time could and certainly no one presently can. He earned our trust and respect. </div><div><br /></div><div>The tribute collected his most memorable moments from devastating assassinations, to the equally highly emotional moon landing, to the live on-air phone call he took while the audience waited for him to relay that Lyndon Johnson had died. Various anchors spoke of their admiration of him and celebrity friends also shared beautiful memories of their personal time spent with him. Some who aren't necessarily my favorite on a personal level, but are brilliant actors, George Clooney and Robin Williams, spoke clearly from their hearts. It was touching to hear one of the members of The Grateful Dead still maintain surprise after all these years that Cronkite really enjoyed their music. </div><div><br /></div><div>The only sour taste left in my mouth aside from the brevity of the salutation was President Obama's very prepared statement. Yeah yeah, you all already know I don't care for the man, but he makes it so easy to cringe every time his face appears or his mouth opens. Of course, to be a little bit fair, President Bush had the same effect of tv cringeworthiness, minus me wanting to roll my eyes, throw up, then smack him upside the head like Obama stirs up in me. Even President Clinton, who I happen to be somewhat partial to, did exactly as all others interviewed did: he spoke genuinely and from his heart. The king of the teleprompter once again delivered an uninspired, anesthetized statement which left me completely flat. Let's just say that the words themselves were not at fault. </div><div><br /></div><div>All in all, I welled up with pride and gratitude and ultimately many tears for Walter Cronkite's unique authenticity in keeping the people of this great nation supplied with news they could trust. </div><div><br /></div>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-85058852494296627532009-05-31T13:04:00.007-06:002009-05-31T23:32:37.261-06:00Get ready for a shocker (or three)!<div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I partook of the sacrament today for the first time in a dozen years and I have to tell you, my day has been an absolute whirlwind of delights and surprises. The last time I went to church with any amount of regularity was when I was 17 years old. At that time I think that any sacrament meetings held at the beginning of church services were a rarity. It has apparently become much more commonplace and I was rather unsure of how I would react to this change, having (in practically a previous life) become so accustomed to a certain schedule and way of doing things. I always liked the idea that families came back together at the end of the day's service to worship as a collective family and congregation. I downright disliked the idea that our ward was among those that had made the switch. Today I was given the opportunity to finally take those steps to experience this and confront many of my predispositions about the course of these last 12 years firsthand.<div><br /></div><div>This opportunity came about through a domino of cues that have fallen over the last week since my 29th birthday. With about 90% jocularity and insincerity, I have been teasing/threatening Dave that if I am not pregnant by August 24th there would be hell to pay. August 24th being the conception date that would keep me in my twenties to bear our first child. I'm not baby crazy by any stretch of the imagination, but am in those beginning stages of finding that life for the two of us has really thus far been just a preamble to much greater things and I believe parenthood to be part of that. Almost simultaneously in this last week, three significant incidents occurred to set our future progress in motion: </div><div><br /></div><div>1. Dave was given clearance to begin a new job that not only has career potential, but that will certainly open doors to many more opportunities. He should also be able to maintain his school schedule through to graduation next year.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Our dear friends and neighbors who also happen to be our bishop and his wife took us to lunch and made a request of us to return to regular church service to help them fulfill a need in the ward. Teaching Primary. What's more. . .I happily accepted. </div><div><br /></div><div>3. Oh, it keeps getting better. Exactly one week after this seemingly highly significant birthday marking the final year of the dreadful twenties (so overrated), I attended my first full church block in these dozen years, took the sacrament and went one step further and joined the ward choir. </div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, to those of you who may have stopped breathing through reading all of that, please exhale, inhale and repeat! My hopes of one day returning to church as a wallflower (which I always kept on that back burner of my mind), were dashed away in one fell swoop by not only dropping right back into the swing of things, but with a calling to help keep me there. Yes, I always kept the idea in my mind of going back and have been veeeerrry slowly approaching this turning point for the last few years. I could never see the way to actually make this change in my life though. I can liken the thought process to when I was a smoker. Once I made that change and had become a smoker I never thought there could be any way to change back. I could not see a way. The same has been true of my pew time. The path, for me, did not appear to be simple or clear. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's not just as simple as merely showing up. That wallflower concept? Not exactly feasible in the LDS church. Active participation is what makes any church, well, church. There have to be people giving to those showing up to receive whatever they came seeking. Having left the church as a youth, such responsibilities were never something I ever contemplated as being part of my religious life even back then thinking of my future. I am kind of self-absorbed though, which explains a lot. </div><div><br /></div><div>Getting back to the course of this past week having potentially weighty consequences, I do not believe it was any coincidence that Primary was the slot allotted for me. With our means to expand our family growing ever closer to plausibility, I have to accept the downright fact that I am positively akward around children. I speak to 4-year-olds like they're 40. Most things designed and manufactured for the entertainment and attraction of children make me want to keep a gallon of gasoline and a good sturdy match closeby. May Miley Cirus take a long walk off a very short pier (except that it would likely just be her replacement pushing her off). However, I absolutely adored my own childhood and would like to think that I could rediscover those endless joys that the imagination a young mind brings to this life. Not to mention the other downright fact that I practically need missionary discussions at this point to remember the details behind what my heart has always told me to be true and will be able to learn right along with the children having their first experience with this knowledge. So, could this calling be a little bit of a crash course preparation for the future? Don't anybody hold your breath again (remember: inhale, exhale, repeat), but you never can tell exactly how things will unfold.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, as for choir practice today. . .that's a whole other post all together. It was. Um. Interesting. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-84749263373913494242009-04-26T04:13:00.022-06:002009-04-27T02:45:53.619-06:00That ol' disposable income question<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>While the idea of "disposable income" is scarcely a reality for the general populous of any nation, I don't mind occasionally indulging in deciding what decadence I would surround myself with were that concept one of my own realities. I actually reigned it in to a top 5 and even kept that list to well under a million bucks for the whole lot. I like to keep my fantasies somewhere within the realm of possibility, afterall. I couldn't begin, however, to put these items in any order of priority, so they are pretty much random in that sense. Here we go.<div><br /></div><div>I absolutely adore my walnut George Steck upright piano. I'd gladly bid it a fond farewell, however, for a late 19th or early 20th century Steinway concert or parlor grand in pyramid mahogany, rosewood or burr walnut, preferably with boxwood inlaid bandings.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; ">Trading this...</div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">(this is actually a Winter piano, but it looks almost exactly like m</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">ine)</span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8SYwqZfScx45Kz4W6zea0EP7plRqkimvG46Kn8PTJ3hvqT_n8jEImqhqOiXcncF9zV658_QiLCIoZflBcFWXyCq3U7XeibSfoocF0do27e0ZU8Dd5VGKPh583s2kKz85T6Z1F6ZOlaGTg/s320/winter..jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328949371308418274" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:10px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">F</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">o</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">r</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">t</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">h</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">i</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">s</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">(1920 Pyramid Mahogany Steinway with boxwood inlay)</span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTvMK2pBP9iiLNx_Rq50RAbqP7-ESPTZo3PcM904gBfWg6gDIspDjVdAqCSwXYIvSIq5XEOdN3ztYz3pHzutiiVat6t8kDAQ5bFxMr3N10-y88X1PjCGvHy_iWP8LiAskItW7GPLR4UcgA/s320/pyramahog+steinway.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328950942359612162" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 313px; height: 320px; " /><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; ">or this...</div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">(1877 Serpentine Rosewood Steinway - this one's just a measly $160K)</span></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1UK4pAaax33HqAY9Q_SHfLt7tPs1h5TYsIryXOXtcF2LMVtKzIzlxh8Ox1atOmnz_41ivRitV8LUYvXHOKW1gY8511jPOCExWeRGP-iF8t8zDXbmTdUAMzx6NKyeiRinbLnTt_QXE0Mb/s320/serpentine+rosewood+steinway..jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328950934547262338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 320px; " /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">(Rosewood detail on another Steinway. *drool*)</span></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFwR0FLDk_bTbyFOLlwHBFyV0FOMnYXhAJqmf0E_wpucExe-LCWAcq7_Ps6yqQkXJn9TkzxH5-xTuRNAMheWUnMV2HLqWRdQf1m576DXxCXOjZ8uxkPzPt8S5H32RR92_2vlmhC_qNM_Lg/s320/rosewood+steinway+detail.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328950941475257074" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><div style="text-align: center; ">or this...</div></div><div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(Burr Walnut Steinway at just 39,000 pounds, what's the conversion rate at these days?)</span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxUKi3cy1ahz8ePrT6iO2U13WMucu7p1HCYWIWpe-ZsrwrEERWPwZy8ZcgVzPLEtv4JqxRemkr2VzdUKuUUFlE0ZQspEdtxtLpD2Yj4XYV-LH4wmgK2k3TWkLKsgkKACGoFv6uhtEGHaY/s1600-h/burr+walnut+steinway..JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxUKi3cy1ahz8ePrT6iO2U13WMucu7p1HCYWIWpe-ZsrwrEERWPwZy8ZcgVzPLEtv4JqxRemkr2VzdUKuUUFlE0ZQspEdtxtLpD2Yj4XYV-LH4wmgK2k3TWkLKsgkKACGoFv6uhtEGHaY/s320/burr+walnut+steinway..JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328950932872888786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 257px; height: 320px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center; ">Okay, I don't know if you're prepared for this. I certainly wasn't. It's been dubbed:</div><div style="text-align: center; ">"The Ferrari of Pianos"</div><div style="text-align: center; ">The one, the only, Pyramid Mahogany Fazioli concert grand:</div></div></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(anyone got a quarter Mil lying around?)</span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9dWqfIbvYPOWui0k2-bNcn5pGY08lOstF6UF9zNB2SE0yGfSsac5OrAYoNwfjd2EFyhASNoOJtEiVl_MCrz5E6Jj5U1QqnrajaryYfwznXZkcmPgm_riGANTNWinEI57nB8ylC828NHf5/s1600-h/pyrmahog+fazioli.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9dWqfIbvYPOWui0k2-bNcn5pGY08lOstF6UF9zNB2SE0yGfSsac5OrAYoNwfjd2EFyhASNoOJtEiVl_MCrz5E6Jj5U1QqnrajaryYfwznXZkcmPgm_riGANTNWinEI57nB8ylC828NHf5/s320/pyrmahog+fazioli.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328953708273199234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 246px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center; ">The sounding board (the most crucial piece of any instrument) in each of these two-years-to-build-one masterpieces is made from red spruce from the Italian Alps. It's the same wood from the forest that was used to make Stradivarius violins. *mega drool*</div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; ">Steinway would probably still win out with me though.</div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">NEXT!</span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; ">A digital back for my Hasselblad. So, taking this fantabulous medium-format film setup that I already miraculously possess:</div><div><br /></div></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEj9xanfRY5NNSxqQxseU-T6xJng8tc8zEY3IkNWwclrEVU_Vwvvii37LbR85QQRIIGcLvZkzNSmRIngWLqw_SP1F-0jaokPX-Y8q1S7drhX2gBo7gDcBQoi_Qdgxr2y5do1lBCzkXV1Ml/s320/hasselblad_500cm_system.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328960190431689394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px; " />And adding this teensy little thirty thousand dollar accessory to the back to make it a medium-format digital camera producing 39 megapixel pics of perfection:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gQFeyEFlSowLS8Yi_gcMvayMGo9PWeqHJRHKaeYtVze3kQ2Cc_bBETuCAywNTwfQTET49KmEkDlbjjCBAWixOci9NGC06I0Xw6x4u0cPtO2r9CncfsQPT8chPZUI0WV15qaI28DD7HZB/s1600-h/hassel+digital+back..jpg"></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gQFeyEFlSowLS8Yi_gcMvayMGo9PWeqHJRHKaeYtVze3kQ2Cc_bBETuCAywNTwfQTET49KmEkDlbjjCBAWixOci9NGC06I0Xw6x4u0cPtO2r9CncfsQPT8chPZUI0WV15qaI28DD7HZB/s1600-h/hassel+digital+back..jpg" style="text-decoration: none; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gQFeyEFlSowLS8Yi_gcMvayMGo9PWeqHJRHKaeYtVze3kQ2Cc_bBETuCAywNTwfQTET49KmEkDlbjjCBAWixOci9NGC06I0Xw6x4u0cPtO2r9CncfsQPT8chPZUI0WV15qaI28DD7HZB/s320/hassel+digital+back..jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328960197892217314" style="text-align: left; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 210px; " /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">NEXT!</span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Adding pretty much a whole other house in front of the one I've already got so we can have a garage and a little more breathing room. Something along these lines:</span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div></div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71Q2glXjrYchKD4jNZ5SrMqgLCimV-du0TdgBd1pvVVm9YvhidXn6nTQrWmCOqVnr47ZqXZUOqzNDoaan5D5hBt_VoQKojSpLr847WP_w-nKwS9kWN_z-5aJCyKQJsFoLxUrYuI9QBAqH/s1600-h/garage_4..jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71Q2glXjrYchKD4jNZ5SrMqgLCimV-du0TdgBd1pvVVm9YvhidXn6nTQrWmCOqVnr47ZqXZUOqzNDoaan5D5hBt_VoQKojSpLr847WP_w-nKwS9kWN_z-5aJCyKQJsFoLxUrYuI9QBAqH/s320/garage_4..jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328961533799489890" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 210px; " /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">NEXT!</span></div><div><div><div><br /></div><div>One of my favorite things to do is drive. One of my other favorite things to do is absorb the wondrous beauty and fascinating history of this great country. Thus:</div><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGj3HM94WxWlizf4eJfyVerbPlUHjq0h_G6hMG-02xzvJYXleesNraVEl8QhEZYwVyACHBNt2aV1wAHEa-cYoxtfQU7AW6unat8Ch5mf5dvhvF1I2vtMgRUWat7PIN0UOC0d633gnA5hyphenhyphen/s1600-h/fleetwood..jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGj3HM94WxWlizf4eJfyVerbPlUHjq0h_G6hMG-02xzvJYXleesNraVEl8QhEZYwVyACHBNt2aV1wAHEa-cYoxtfQU7AW6unat8Ch5mf5dvhvF1I2vtMgRUWat7PIN0UOC0d633gnA5hyphenhyphen/s320/fleetwood..jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328962711043660786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px; " /></a>It would have to be big enough for comfort, but small enough to park and drive easily. 20 feet seems just about right. Plus, with the whole disposable income idea I wouldn't feel so terrible buying new and instantly losing value hand over fist just by driving it off the lot.<div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">LAST!</span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left; ">A month...or two...or six in Japan with Dave eating every crazy thing in sight! Starting with these:</div></div></div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5U7tSC2SVGC8QrutsSTXyFBMPzFBstpJVuaggigS94NoscXVGdenxQXp7x9EKLXDfjIu8TDV73c02hnbOPZMRkdy0E2LerR8NTIxSrX4Cm37HcEwxWp-Mv04mJ3h-Og0Vghyphenhyphen4gZTirKF/s320/bluefin+tuna..jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328964867749221362" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 224px; " /><div style="text-align: center; ">Wait, those are bluefin tuna. Not allowed to eat those. Here we go, yellowfin tuna. I'd eat lots and lots and lots of these guys all sashimi style:</div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIteEP4LGXw9RhJd5wL-GMefExmQRByN73Svc91Tx6SEAMVcBr5yRjQeci5fUVvGl-1rwBCIJnkdnUhjVhqpdvTGzUBaO32CuDy7m9IPq0beXAORaVYMswjbqyca1Dtz0EeYZuzHjnRtS8/s1600-h/yellowfin+tuna..jpg"></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIteEP4LGXw9RhJd5wL-GMefExmQRByN73Svc91Tx6SEAMVcBr5yRjQeci5fUVvGl-1rwBCIJnkdnUhjVhqpdvTGzUBaO32CuDy7m9IPq0beXAORaVYMswjbqyca1Dtz0EeYZuzHjnRtS8/s1600-h/yellowfin+tuna..jpg" style="text-decoration: none; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIteEP4LGXw9RhJd5wL-GMefExmQRByN73Svc91Tx6SEAMVcBr5yRjQeci5fUVvGl-1rwBCIJnkdnUhjVhqpdvTGzUBaO32CuDy7m9IPq0beXAORaVYMswjbqyca1Dtz0EeYZuzHjnRtS8/s320/yellowfin+tuna..jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328964875571882722" style="text-align: left; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div><div><div><div><div style="text-align: center; ">Mmmm, sashimi...</div><div style="text-align: center; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDOvf9zwEo9hgirhkP9K8nTHgCP2X584KKHISFWz3fB2PzoZaXPKlfZL6P4vmHsBEUiv7mzYvMD4-SNuDDbNY6hXzYkyFgBd4kgqIuNVZ69xt9Oggwd64ur28p5gw3j4p75GCBMNUi4Ew7/s320/sashimi_1..jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328966304277911490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 286px; " /></div><div style="text-align: center; ">Munch a Hello Kitty bento box...</div></div></div></div></div></div></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghXCamAcQ5iyRjy1hxjgMxqdeeIYRXiKwqI9XSmk48l_wLJj0DkC_PUY-lSJeJ9gwxzAmNHDKEkspCR5k4_r8P-Da05D57S9FX1LSt8bBvyKyTSLMhH1Dt9NyxJBa4-_508gL5-3MRAXJ5/s320/hello+kitty+bento..png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328966297324905170" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 303px; height: 320px; " /><div style="text-align: center; ">Wash it down with Salad flavored water...</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXR1bBTSTEz1SPiTbpcO98vF9DvPEAabT0MywMRuEUTWtpzELxLwFrCHC65DobSJ0ZT2V6mU2uGfR9_7N2219ookdLz7QNZ50eEQS64YCh1MFParZ0NC2DVLSUgDTq9XZ84m3wlYSofJgS/s1600-h/leave+it+to+the+japanese..jpg"></a><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBLYjMGQUa3GVJjTvlnZijfOHeCgHnhNz960U3rFA_bmahh1flcK3C07q9kKlRKVurRCIy3rY5YA4fdlZKyBziKr9H0beBhDQ6ytvJQMQOcmYqw3aZa-MUnlYXM-8SXKpPdBm6j2JV_Ky/s320/water+salad..jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328966307150711138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 320px; " /><div style="text-align: center; ">Um, sure, why not...</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXR1bBTSTEz1SPiTbpcO98vF9DvPEAabT0MywMRuEUTWtpzELxLwFrCHC65DobSJ0ZT2V6mU2uGfR9_7N2219ookdLz7QNZ50eEQS64YCh1MFParZ0NC2DVLSUgDTq9XZ84m3wlYSofJgS/s1600-h/leave+it+to+the+japanese..jpg" style="text-decoration: none; "></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXR1bBTSTEz1SPiTbpcO98vF9DvPEAabT0MywMRuEUTWtpzELxLwFrCHC65DobSJ0ZT2V6mU2uGfR9_7N2219ookdLz7QNZ50eEQS64YCh1MFParZ0NC2DVLSUgDTq9XZ84m3wlYSofJgS/s1600-h/leave+it+to+the+japanese..jpg" style="text-decoration: none; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXR1bBTSTEz1SPiTbpcO98vF9DvPEAabT0MywMRuEUTWtpzELxLwFrCHC65DobSJ0ZT2V6mU2uGfR9_7N2219ookdLz7QNZ50eEQS64YCh1MFParZ0NC2DVLSUgDTq9XZ84m3wlYSofJgS/s320/leave+it+to+the+japanese..jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328966307066458594" style="text-align: left; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 320px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; ">Then track these down and buy up a whole mess of 'em (wtf? Does anyone know if Flight of the Conchords ever did any questionable endorsements for Doritos?):</div></div></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjubkE_GDShmD05Lg12Nn3aFbDDfLod2stCFHNeuyLo7Rm-NeZ7MeHt_TH39GHtFYHDkffR5sWT16OCtKX8L7V2Oahtu0EqU5dFdkM7Oc-_ZUjSOIrulUEM8nUTvFoNchIqI4ONUTJoQqDl/s320/doritos+wtf..jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 289px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328967300125778914" /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4R8NdBYNWIZq5VEBkOkPC7p2tXwxpqC9yyxvYiIrXHVjfHkRn9ujuyC33gU702JJYIKShqYPfsffVf5QYggva30t16ysX9EabPrd4zQPsgrXtI5w39w6CdkSTd8EIX8LeZdb4X98JEZa2/s1600-h/crack+sandwich..jpg"></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4R8NdBYNWIZq5VEBkOkPC7p2tXwxpqC9yyxvYiIrXHVjfHkRn9ujuyC33gU702JJYIKShqYPfsffVf5QYggva30t16ysX9EabPrd4zQPsgrXtI5w39w6CdkSTd8EIX8LeZdb4X98JEZa2/s1600-h/crack+sandwich..jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 161px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4R8NdBYNWIZq5VEBkOkPC7p2tXwxpqC9yyxvYiIrXHVjfHkRn9ujuyC33gU702JJYIKShqYPfsffVf5QYggva30t16ysX9EabPrd4zQPsgrXtI5w39w6CdkSTd8EIX8LeZdb4X98JEZa2/s320/crack+sandwich..jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328967298070572610" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Okay, to be fair, the crack sandwiches aren't actually Japanese. Sorry.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'd probably be far too embarassed to actually be seen in public slurping down one of these <a href="http://i709.photobucket.com/albums/ww99/anseliz/Wallpapers/nofreakinway.jpg">ice cream cones</a> (yes, ME, actually embarassed by someting naughty - thus posting a link rather than the picture itself right on my blog), but I would definitely have a great time witnessing all the crazy "adult novelty" culture Japan has to offer. I'll spare you THOSE pictures I found online. Yikes!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So, there you have it. My top 5 high dollar indulgences that I think are actually all pretty achievable in my life.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-81770081080787501052009-04-22T03:15:00.004-06:002009-04-22T03:39:26.171-06:00Fare thee well, Olowahu. May you rest in pieces.<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My Olowahu Tevas - the most comfortable shoes on the planet - have finally been laid to rest. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsrihpjAcjvpDO_DXHsIRtv4ZJUjbTgHR6-6-Xgh1tFs4b3nMrq0ASyFXCU_-BnAAWaJsUQ3b-B5KIPk07MLOEBS3-CJ3gTggJdlja0YgTu7hd3MEZZnW4Y5UC8pBunndJOFaOTt4nae_-/s320/IMG_0498.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327444183413395458" /><div style="text-align: center;">The straps had begun to come loose, but I just tied them back onto the straps that still held. That hole finally wore through the woefully thin soles on a trip to Disneyland where these valiant shoes were put through their paces by hauling my butt over miles and miles of that concrete, theme park jungle. You can even make out the exact shape of every inch of my feet these sandals lovingly cradled.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">*sigh*</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We had some great times together and I was very sad to see their passing. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Fortunately, this wonderful creation of Teva's can still be found through the wonderful world wide web. Another Hallelujah moment to rival my discovery of caffeine free Diet Coke: </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The Teva Olowahu Sandal in</div><div style="text-align: center;">Little Bay Gold</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezaTbCptXYXzxybrq6rnttm-WdL5-17u4UKn3zNUD2FBk18gM47WGSauNN5Sv3sX7WbVdKumGG6l5YyXibo2wo1tQfOY0NiE0z7lWz_0_KQRfuVZWxWb0TZso8MDKV792mFUIOShPTYb8/s320/IMG_0506.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327444184730727810" /><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;">These are some VERY happy feet.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqVzVdmLcHXCE2oWdnk42gfyz24GchFZsqll3x3AL0-1ds6YR5MrGAVSdGu1yt4rkkB3Rd99Zh2F7D_7cZGBDYy16VyQdX3AwNxCpK6fSll0UHzMmV-3pJT5hdScWxnc2VzC1NKNamXnuK/s320/IMG_0508.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327444190217604370" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-22643585796678341942009-04-12T01:23:00.019-06:002009-04-12T03:16:57.756-06:00The Half-Caf. Not just for coffee anymore.<div style="text-align: left;">Only about a year or two ago I found myself not merely addicted to caffeine, but consuming copious amounts of it. My average day would go something like this:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In the neighborhood of 7-9 a.m. drinking approximately 4 cups of coffee (yes, that's 28 oz. of straight black joe) from one of these bad boys:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh48GKD45r04N_52JONfDxA3zf5W0ABG1G6Jq9M3oCTFTAF9NblEvkkok_qvNEZDmZh7KmmFyNDZOJSXilv6_V8CI3lzCMIDrBZc90N4ZegfVsmOIyM0F2sFFnq-jy8TYcMhrpkP0n39qia/s200/french+press.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 164px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323707621223188258" /></div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>By the lunch hour I had a hankering for something sweet and chilly so I'd pick up one of these:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6FrWvs3Vyd3dJ2hJNhMsrZG5ELdVuUStO4cEpN1577sIHSBuMLA2jBFWclX0kd2Lpe8fwFmjRAy-lvBcl_RmV8_hAFlzOFQ2MNNtsVyiUBh8ZDmMJWQKgNll13uSqoiiwo2AUBkKXewtA/s200/full-throttle.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 78px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323707826253824082" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Or one of these:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC93FTdniEy4FqmtdcKudA_Cqf9h9QvbZJ_ldIKjMu2BPgf6EgwPCiWPwohvCAXZj4ljq0i1DCTfN2tNxdgVKnUEnEq9PittcdvbNgoozZlrjYw1EDzjNQPY0yXeGungRtfrYxXEmjS-Gw/s200/monster.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 70px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323708056663161218" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Or one of these:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkMI2aycPLcFtNxiIaDbNCQu4Q6-GR9aFLiQr3Xtmv5YlwfTKwwClRm1l_4xfxPUSt6cStlJ6Lb80WGm6x6i-bmieyKuIkbJdt0cDGSN12bKQjGF_utDc1jtjeX29au9WupgXfX-rSvgq8/s200/red+bull.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323708238905996674" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Which would make me feel like this...</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAP7TqQRlGruMH5ckwghE-Ahyphenhyphena22Mdqi_dBpnJ3YUbblhab5aT7GNtZTmCsZwO7Zb3IU6xx8WQejTvHNq_L1QNHZUoddSUfLbzrLSI5xQWmaLQ_HhxGLP-5U-YfsL4RWJd65Zpo0NBE3Wg/s200/red+bull+boost.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 185px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323708393029308194" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>...for all of about a millisecond.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Then, by the time I would get off work back in those 9-5 days, I would need another one of those 16 oz. heart stoppers pictured above for the ride home. Heaven forbid that I would ever have been caught stuck in traffic without one!</div><div><br /></div><div>I finally realized that all I was doing was keeping the headaches at bay by ingesting some VERY questionable substances (except for the coffee, which I still think is a nectar from the gods). Quitting smoking gave me the tools to know how to kick an all-consuming addiction, which caffeine had become for me. I started by cutting out those mega-caffeinated drinks cold turkey but not limiting myself to any of those ordinary, merely highly caffeinated drinks such as Mountain Dew and good ol' Coca-Cola. Finally, even those were too much for my minor surge of health conscienciousness. I bit the bullet and have only been drinking diet for months and months now. I used to HATE diet anything. All I could taste was the aspartame (another questionable substance, I might add). Now, I can't stand the taste of high fructose corn syrup and much prefer the taste of diet anything. Yes, this coming from a girl who used to eat sugar by the spoonful. No, not just as a kid. We're talking only a few years ago.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Two miraculous things then happened simultaneously just this year. First, my darling husband accidentally broke my french press. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's that 4 person coffee brewer in that first picture at the top that I used to treat like a Big Gulp. He was absolutely frantic because he knew how much I relied on that damn thing. I reassured him that it was actually a good thing and that it would help me to take that next step to cut back even more. Then, at almost the exact same time, I discovered the wondrous wonder that is Caffeine Free Diet Coke. I will take any amount of raucous finger pointing, laughing and ridicule for saying that I like it, but by gum, I actually LOVE the stuff! Strange, but it actually DOES taste different than regular Diet Coke. It rests in a lovely place of sweetness right in between Classic and Diet Coke. Having been addicted to Coca-Cola since the tender age of 6 I have a very sensitive palate to the brand. However, there was still that nasty little caffeine monkey on my back.</div><div><br /></div><div>With the ever rising popularity of my new favorite beverage, Caffeine Free Diet Greatness is now available in the fountains of most of the places I generally eat. Carl's Jr., Cafe Rio, even the convenience stores all have anywhere from 3 to 5 different kinds of Coke available. Costco, you'd better be next! This means that average consumers like me can now create their very own half-caf Diet Coke!!! For you non-coffee drinkers out there, I'm sure you were still able to deduce that it is a term for a cup of coffee with half regular and half decaf. Half-Caf!</div><div><br /></div><div>At the fountains I now take something glorious...</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAlO7YIbqqe2-NdWNPuSQPytTrRE-tCIUIi84_miIcpzuQsJJlWo6yOj_A6qK8mFMsSzNg2CsZ5zALYINzFJFYFnP9bDTabLaDWCWlCh_G6Q3xdpPE5cfATl_5ppjsHftPRwmqNB4IKJ9W/s200/dietcoke.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 154px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323722282347594178" /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>mix it with something astonishingly resplendent...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjicZ5odzGoUFndyvQUonu3u3KknSnqlLEygiVVKiVFYxyMKj2Ie9daLhW_18guovPYkSiLpFCcCCF1ZLbSHjo6xudtGv6a0LHLIMl4pO6te04i1ev_EedKIUn6_OE3OIX6OQTSXKYo9goj/s200/caf+free.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323723186913470242" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>and...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJGaarkeAVmsTFGa5s8NrDU1DgJMR-eNvwFcBE8n6so2SziCKvGP5fvqyGx4vlD0MGRmaEehyGK3Qy1LRIoocqrJ7nRGxxnIxU0oSh2OwW9jwCFBkRv_rES9zjtlTdy-Y3yjrsfghTcf7J/s320/MARRIAGE.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 256px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323723761324916722" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes it's the little things. In this case, a very little thing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-66049471917845709022009-03-14T14:21:00.008-06:002009-03-14T17:03:26.731-06:00Ethics. A four letter word? Of course not.At the requested interest of a few folks I am going to spend a little bit of time going into a subject I spent the better part of two years studying and discussing at length with teachers and classmates. That is, ethical concerns associated with photograph manipulation. I'd like to begin with making two things very clear. First, and most importantly, this is my blog and is merely an editorial outlet for me. With that knowledge you can safely roll your eyes and even tell me to bugger off after reading anything I post without much concern. Second, I have a very solid personal definition of ethics that I am going to explain prior to applying this value to the notion of photographic manipulation.<div><br /></div><div>To be a tad technical, which I occasionally indulge in being, I would say that ethics is a branch of philosophy that specifically deals with people and the way we treat one another. More specifically, addressing the "rightness" or "wrongness" of our actions and even further (and most importantly if you ask me) the implications of both motives behind, and results of those actions. </div><div><br /></div><div>If you're reading this here, you likely have already read some of my wall posts back and forth on Facebook that get into my personal feelings on this subject matter. Here is a recap of what I wrote to my first cousin, Drew: </div><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;">Ah, yes, you've touched on a lot of the primary points. Essentially, the issue comes down to audience and intent towards that audience as you got into a bit. People have been splicing negatives since photography's inception to doop the public into believing the manipulation. We simply have far better tools to achieve the same effect nowadays. The bottom line, however, is that the manipulation represents a lie. Now, is this lie dangerous or harmless? Again, intent AND representation are key. If a news outlet alters the actual event occurring in the photo in any way it becomes dangerous, unethical and even criminal. If other adjustments are made, however, such as lighting differences post-shutter snap that you also mentioned, these would not fall into the same category. For instance, a journalistic photograph viewed on my computer screen through brightly lit pixels is going to look far different from one I see in newsprint and even further changed if color information is discarded.</span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;">It seems though that many family photographs are being altered at an increasing rate these days and to what effect and purpose? Is this a dangerous practice or harmless? Intent, intent, intent. Countless women - and men - have utilized the wonders of the liquefy tool to tuck in some of those curves. All the magazines do it to the typically already beautiful rich and famous so why not the layperson? You won't see a single image posted by me of myself that shows you the acne I constantly battle with on a daily basis. But these are mere issues of personal vanity. They are lies still the same. How many young people have eating disorders as a result of those types of manipulations? Altering events, however, is what concerns me the most. Since legality is not an issue with the picture the question of ethics comes to the forefront of my mind. Yes, it is a photo for personal use, but it is also a form of posterity.<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13px;">I agree with you that if the intent (there's that word again) is merely to show the effect of time then it MIGHT make sense to remove the faces of those whose changes aren't relevant to us any longer. A notation is still absolutely appropriate in my mind. Names need not even be mentioned. On the other hand, if the image is intended to show our history at a single moment in time, which, knowing Lorine seems to me to be the most likely reason (but who knows), then I feel a deep ethical problem with any alteration that would remove or add anyone. I've emotionally cut Ron from my life, I don't feel any need to physically do it through these means. We are physically connected through our DNA anyway so I will never NOT be a part of him, whether I like it or not. My emotions are mine to dictate, not his.</span></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Here's where things really become interesting, and scary. We have this wondrous new tool in our little universe called, Facebook. People we forgot even existed begin popping out of the woodwork wanting to be our friend and then the question comes to your mind: Do I really want to add this person as a friend? Do I care what they're doing now, decades later? Will they be offended if I reject them? None of these are terribly important questions, but to those of you who may indiscriminately add everyone who asks you as friends you may eventually end up facing a photo dilemma. Sometimes, however, it happens within your own families. </div><div><br /></div><div>Do you remember that one night back in college 14 years ago when you got so drunk with your buddies that you snuck into the girls' dorms and started knocking on doors begging for underwears (and yes, that's the word you used, "underwears") and actually managed to score a few pairs before finally being escorted out by a pissed-off security officer? Well, your "friend" sure as hell remembers and has the photo documentation to prove it! Oh, and guess what? He just put it up on his Facebook and tagged you so your grandma, who is also your friend can now see your embarrassing, albeit fun, exploits of yesteryear. Yes, that's really you wearing the hot pink lacy number over your sweat pants. Flexing your arms really put the finishing touches on nicely. Very sexy.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've just spent some time with Facebook's Terms of Use, since the changing of it made such a news fuss last week. Anyone who has been tagged in a photograph is able to un-tag themselves from any image which results in a complete disassociation with your own Facebook page. Grandma may never look at you the same way again though if she caught a glimpse first. Facebook, however, does not engage in any practice to force a user to take down any content that doesn't break the law. So, basically, this means that any picture of you out in cyberspace is perfectly able to reside there with or without your permission so long as nobody's making a buck off it (that's a REALLY slimmed down explanation). Oh, and as long as your giblets aren't showing. </div><div><br /></div><div>I found that all to be fascinating, but also not at all surprising. It's actually sort of old news in the world of a photographer. I had a professor whose favorite mantra to encourage us with was to always shoot first, ask forgiveness later. For the record, we only had a few near-arrests during my course of study, but no one ever did any time. I even came very close to an altercation once in a public cemetery in Baltimore whose groundskeeper that lived on the property didn't want me photographing the entry gates with his home in the background. In a court of law, in that situation, my rights would exceed his. My lens was not, after all, deliberately poking between the curtains to see what's inside. That's why the paparazzi, as nasty as they are, get away with as much as they do. In public there is very little legal recourse against photography (in America anyway). So, keep away from peoples' windows and, obviously, don't go around taking pictures of other peoples' kids you don't know, creepy guy.</div><div><br /></div><div>This is a fun essay with excellent examples of some of the finest, and freakiest photo manips throughout the existence of the technology. Many you likely know about, but some may surprise you: <a href="http://www.cs.dartmouth.edu/farid/research/digitaltampering/"></a></div><div><a href="http://www.cs.dartmouth.edu/farid/research/digitaltampering/">http://www.cs.dartmouth.edu/farid/research/digitaltampering/</a></div><div><br /></div><div>Essentially, right and wrong when it comes to photography manipulation all boils down to your intentions for your audience. Along these lines, you are not responsible for your audience's reaction. You are, however, responsible for your motivations behind sharing an original or an altered photo. There is no way of getting around the fact that an alteration of a photograph from the original (ie. removing or adding people) is a falsification. That doesn't automatically make it ethically wrong. Just false, which is fine. Again, what is the intent or purpose of the image? Never forget to ask yourself that. Another favorite mantra of the same professor. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's not written here, but Drew pointed out the idea of making a notation of the alterations. And here is where my ethics on the matter can clearly define a "right" or a "wrong" decision. Who here likes being lied to? No hands? No kidding. A manipulation of a photograph is not a wrong or a bad thing to do. Not at all (don't forget about the intent, I can't stress this enough). Sometimes we try to do the manipulation before the shutter can even capture something. For instance, I made a deliberate effort to point Ron out to the photographers at our wedding to do everything they could to keep him out of their shots. I think he managed to sneak into one and I don't think either Dave or I were even in it. Let's just say that it's not up on my wall, but the image does still exist intact and original. </div><div><br /></div><div>Also, as I mentioned above regarding my own manips, I don't mind walking around every day with a zit be-speckled face completely makeup free. I honestly don't. But once it has been captured for the ages, I'd rather look back at the images of this time in my life and be able to just look at my face without the distraction of all those little annoyances that caused me so much pain. Yes, I do get the irony here. I am telling a lie to everyone who ever looks at those pictures of me that I had control over - but you know it's a lie. Ethical dilemma solved. There is no wool over your eyes, just a prettier picture of me. If only the magazines were that honest, eh? I could keep going on and on with this topic - two years builds up a LOT of conversations about it - but I'll leave you guys to mull over your own thoughts on how you feel about it. </div><div><br /></div><div>The most honest liar you are ever likely to encounter, Liz</div><div><br /></div><div>p.s. Just for fun and a little personal humiliation, here are my completely unaltered shots sent in to Proactiv in 2007 (Note: I'm not very good at forming new habits, thus the continued existence of my little facial bacterial army. The uni-brow? Oh yeah, baby, that's all me too!):<br /><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9ODghjYLeHeFRjY1QJpMGLI_afxsypYfa5JLCm724scwBTFC3N-iNnsdILbqFDk8OAUclhmJeSBG90UZC6zGXaHWCWfgp_1YWsTi0rco_rgEVd1n4DG70rh25zPE1yXY81YTAJrBN96m/s320/Front+5.26.07.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313176925856874690" /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoln_2rD53UYU5t-21lmbmQRbK89-KAEtdoM6um7MXl3w3QImgXUwZxodym5-jtehFYsoL2F44ZiGmaw69CaEZF2e6FJldWkO_6UQB9GvzQf6-M45F9yxn9FhweDgpBonZu5ar867b3V_2/s1600-h/Right+5.26.07.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoln_2rD53UYU5t-21lmbmQRbK89-KAEtdoM6um7MXl3w3QImgXUwZxodym5-jtehFYsoL2F44ZiGmaw69CaEZF2e6FJldWkO_6UQB9GvzQf6-M45F9yxn9FhweDgpBonZu5ar867b3V_2/s320/Right+5.26.07.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313176931049696354" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl4RrxSLC_0nQ6F3lek3VxHbjtLrXb7uaj0Qlu1ZBnrz0tACSGch7FXFckze6oAj3UzaXq0uK8IM05DxicA4G6fvYe20uD-GuJiidpiz0JMese5I7aqLOfc4x6ff8FE28c2TCbm5YzFthc/s1600-h/Left+5.26.07.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl4RrxSLC_0nQ6F3lek3VxHbjtLrXb7uaj0Qlu1ZBnrz0tACSGch7FXFckze6oAj3UzaXq0uK8IM05DxicA4G6fvYe20uD-GuJiidpiz0JMese5I7aqLOfc4x6ff8FE28c2TCbm5YzFthc/s320/Left+5.26.07.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313176924981202466" /></a><br /><br /></div>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-91087656564599020202009-02-07T05:25:00.006-07:002009-02-07T05:45:11.588-07:00Oh, Sweet Josephine! I need to lighten things up around here!<div><br /></div>I am still absolutely out of breath and I have a stabbing pain right under my lower-most rib on my left side - from laughing to near hysterics! Yes, it's almost 5:30 in the morning, but I don't usually go to bed much earlier than this so I don't think I can chalk it up to punch-drunketieness. I figure that since I'm in such a good mood at the moment that I can feel pretty comfortable making up a few words. Oh, and, by the way, <a href="http://www.ottawacitizen.com/technology/Record+labels+struggle+strike+favourable+deal+with+YouTube/1117388/story.html">YouTube</a> has the potential to become the suckiest bunch of sucks that ever sucked (I<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">t's basically a deal with record companies that would either charge or eliminate-all-together any videos that play songs they own the rights to and that's only, what, 80% of YouTube? It doesn't look like it's going to happen - yet - but I'll be ready if/when it does!)</span>, so I may be spending a lot more time with Vimeo in the future. But this post is all about good ol' fashioned, homegrown entertainment! May I now present to you for your viewing pleasure, the funniest thing I've witnessed in a great long time:<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(100, 95, 94); font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre-wrap; "><object width="400" height="225"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=2809991&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=2809991&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="225"></embed></object><br /><a href="http://vimeo.com/2809991">Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it)</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user759504">Joe Nicolosi</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</span><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre;font-family:Arial;font-size:10px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre;font-family:Arial;font-size:10px;"><br /></span></div></div></div>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-80973090304869515422009-02-05T15:31:00.011-07:002009-02-06T13:21:20.727-07:00America: Citadel of Liberty at Risk (please read on past this arduous title, it's as much about you and me as it is America)<div><br /></div>I spoke very candidly and openly here last <a href="http://footagemissing.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-never-do-thisbut-what-heck-i-have.html">November</a> when my inner turmoil could no longer be contained. What I know to be true in my heart has never been something I could explain very well through words to anyone. It's a funny thing, faith. I've never considered myself to be an "intellectual" and have never been able to put an effective voice to my convictions. That is probably why I generally remain so private and silent when it comes to my beliefs and opinions. Sometimes I don't understand why the pull is so strong, but I would be remiss to ignore such promptings. Again, faith is a funny thing. I have always maintained the state of my soul as merely a personal endeavor that I have protected by not sharing it. I have viewed others' souls much the same way. I am beginning to realize what a mistake this has been in this all-too-short earthly existence. While I have not turned to God nearly as much as I should in recent years I know that there have been others praying on my behalf and I have been endlessly blessed regardless of where my wandering attention has been directed. Others have shared in my spirituality for years without my acknowledgement and I have been absolutely ungrateful for it. I am reminded of the Lion King quote, one of the last truly great works to come out of Disney since Walt's passing, "You are more than what you have become." I am all too aware that I have not been fulfilling God's intentions for me here. How fortunate I am that His patience is perfect. <div><br /></div><div>Life has been difficult for me personally in nearly every way possible over the last decade and it has been incredibly distracting to say the least. Each time I face a new challenge, however, I don't reach the end thinking how glad I am that it is over. I certainly do feel some sense of relief, but even more powerful than that, I feel strength from the certainty that there are more difficulties to come that have the potential to knock the socks off of whatever I've just lived through. I take a strange comfort in knowing that. </div><div><br /></div><div>This post serves the purpose of helping me feel as though I've shared more of myself than I am usually comfortable doing. And I do that because I feel that there is something truly good for me to share though it is rooted out of a terrifying place. I suppose that you could call me a "sheep" in the figurative sense and to an extent it would be a fair assessment though not wholly accurate. So much of my system of beliefs is so deeply ingrained as a part of me, seared into my soul, that I simply can't deny it. Does that mean that I never find myself questioning my leaders or facing fears or doubts? That is a resounding, "no". Sometimes I rely on the eloquence of minds greater than mine to help me place markers on why I feel and believe the way that I do. These minds may be those speaking with the voice of my own heart, but just as often they are those who seep that undefinable anxiety into my gut that confirms I am hearing fallacy. What disturbs my peace and shakes my core is when that foreboding feeling comes from not merely my loved ones, but those dear people who I always felt helped shaped my beliefs in the first place. That strikes a fear and devastation in me that I have never known before.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, what do I do? Inactivity disturbs me nearly as much as what wrought the unrest. I indicated that I sometimes rely on others' voices to speak as my own because God has simply given me different gifts to work with. I was recently blessed with a pool of resources I wasn't even seeking that offered me a great number of those markers I spoke of. I can currently see no resolve for my distress, but it may not be appropriate for me to see that anyway. I am used to adversities having somewhat clear points of conclusion and am at a loss with what I now face. So, rather than futilely fighting to change anyone or having another rant as I did late last year I believe that I will best serve my suffering heart by sharing some of those resources that are a small but significant part of what further solidifies my resolve in what I believe in. </div><div><br /></div><div>The title of this post may not have made a great deal of sense to you up to this point, but if you have read this far I urge you to continue on with what I will next present. If nothing else and you don't agree with any of it, you will at least know yet even more about me than you did before and that can't possibly be a bad thing, can it? I have been pretty frank in everything I've said and it is absolutely true that I am heartbroken. You may not feel that I am justified in feeling that way about you, but it may be true nonetheless (depending specifically on who is reading this, you very likely know who you are). </div><div><br /></div><div>I was guided to this piece by one of my dearest friends; a man with whom I hold an unending amount of respect and admiration for, my bishop. I have not stepped foot into a church service of my own volition for approximately eleven years with the singular exception of a fast and testimony meeting a few years ago in the ward where I live now. Something definitive happened this week, however. I did not attend Sunday services, but I did make the choice to show up at the 10 o'clock Book of Mormon class that my bishop teaches every Tuesday morning. With my days now ending at 4 a.m. this was quite the feat. I fumbled through the pages of the book that through time and distance had, surprisingly, not become the least bit foreign to me. It wasn't exactly like riding a bike though. The material, of course, hadn't changed with time...I had. But I'm not changed from the young woman I was at seventeen the last time I voluntarily walked through those chapel doors. I am changing back into her. Time may have dulled my mind and in some cases jaded my heart, but it has not had the power to weaken my convictions. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will allow the document to follow to speak completely for itself because my own words would fall short of articulating any portion of its contents with proper justice. I am endlessly grateful to all of you who have attentively given me your ear and I encourage you now to give Ezra Taft Benson your undivided attention. It's about a 10-15 minute read so please, if you can, make this time available. For me, this is currently where my hopes and even my fears lie.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://speeches.byu.edu/reader/reader.php?id=6162">A Vision and a Hope for the Youth of Zion</a></div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you once again for allowing me to share more and more of myself through this oddly fortuitous medium. If anyone is interested in reading any of the other resource materials I spoke of, please, just let me know. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sincerely yours, Liz Perkins</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-23967888228816062792009-01-22T09:15:00.010-07:002009-01-23T12:12:34.060-07:00Oh, I can see the forest in spite of the tree. Metaphor time! Get ready to wax philosophical.<div><br /></div>I had an English teacher in high school who tried to shy her students away from using cliches in our writing because she personally hated them. She thought they were, in themselves, cliche. While I looked up to this woman a great deal, I have always thought that if you have the urge to write, WRITE! Don't allow any deterrents be they spelling or grammar concerns, or even the pet peeves of someone whose opinion mattered to you at some point in your life.<br /><br />So, as usual with my writing lately, inspiration struck this morning right when I woke up - not in the middle of the night this time at least. I've had one of my best friends on the brain for the last two days because, as a gal who has always written from her heart, she had been making some statements recently online that just downright ground my gears. This virtual world allows us to have some very strangely altered relationships. I got a little pushy with her, but in our entire history together we have always been able to respectfully disagree - as we do now. That is all fine and well, but one thing she said got me started down a particular train of thought. This whole "can't see the forest in spite of the trees" business you're waiting for me to finally getting around to talking about. Those of you nut jobs crazy enough to regularly follow this blog. She didn't actually use the forest/tree phrase, but our exchange brought the old adage into my mind.<br /><br />I've wondered about how that concept works and have come up with a theory for myself. What I'm talking about specifically is how people view the world, which from this point on is going to be loosely referred to as a great big forest. What we are seeing when we look up are representations. Each tree represents a person, a pet, a material possession, an event and so on. I have my own forest that is not merely a single tree and the same is true of everyone else. My body and soul are even comprised of separate trees; neither of which are in wonderful shape. My own great forest overshadows but does not block my view of the world's vast forests. It does, however, alter my perception of them.<br /><br />I've said many times that I am no activist, though I do write the occasional letter to any powers that be I feel need to hear my voice when there is an err I cannot overlook. Farmington's mayor got an earful from me last week, in fact. But that's another story for another day. I don't concern myself much with the majority of the sea of arbores. It's not, as the cliche says, because of the singular tree or even my own little forest of trees in front of my face blocking my vision of the rest. It is because some of my trees are on fire, or are wilting with age or some type of deprivation, or have broken limbs. When I do take those moments to gaze upon and sometimes study those backwoods, jungles and thickets around the world...I see that mine are not the only trees in pain or danger. Sometimes I only find open glades where someone has nothing in life to keep them waking up in the morning. Even looking still further I will come across skeletal landscapes where people have once had everything and lost it all in one or a series of cataclysmic events - perhaps devised by themselves in some cases whether intentional or not. For instance, a person with a fatal drug addiction.<br /><br />Here's the kicker though. While for one person, their view of a particular tree may be gaunt, to another, that same tree may be lush and full and its fruit within reach (we're not all pine trees either, by the way). We are each multifaceted that way and in our perceptions of each other.<br /><br />I brought up my lack of activism above for this reason. For me personally, it would be far less responsible for me to take any time at all away from the dangers that portions of my own forest face to go chasing down some giant oak bursting into flames ten thousand miles away with a tiny little bucket of water. I'm not saying that one person can't make a difference by saying that so please, don't allow that to lead you in that direction. I can see the representation of that oak clearly through my television, radio and newspaper. What I can never see clearly, however, is who or what started the fire in the first place or why; or how that one guy who showed up was able to get his hands on such a big hose. Try to keep your minds out of the gutter with that one. It's difficult, I know. At any rate, I can only see what scant portion of the story has been chosen to be told by, once again, the powers that be. Ah, the media. Notice I made a point not to say "liberal media"? EVERYONE's guilty on both the delivery and receipt sides. Viewers, listeners, readers are all just as much to blame for swallowing what we are fed without question. It only encourages the hands that feed us to eventually start throwing banana peels in there. What? You mean they really ate that? Well heck, I've got some old coffee grounds and egg shells I've been meaning to get rid of so let's toss those in there next week and see who bites then we'll simply call them our "target audience". While all of that actually is good for compost, which is good for trees I'm still going along with the metaphor here so please keep playing along. Humor me. Before long anyway, the temptation would become too great and they'd just start tossing in items that are bad for the compost like chicken bones and cheese. Just look at the Britney Spears fiasco in recent years where all that everyone wanted was for the paps and the media to leave her alone and yet there the world was gorging on every gruesome moment of it, buying up the magazines and gluing their eyes to the train wreck. As a trained photographer I know exactly how to make you believe what I want you to believe through my imagery. So, just how far am I comfortable ethically going with that power? Far less than some. Somehow, I don't think photo-shopping a clear complexion for myself is going to wind me up in purgatory. Many others have far more to answer for.<br /><br />My point? My little theory about this forest thing has two clear options though I'll concede that there may be any number of alternate possibilities. First, those who do run off with their buckets and hoses have safe and happy groves waiting around for them when they get back home. These individuals, I must note, may or may not be responsible for the flourishing state of their forest. While rare and improbable, it's a possible scenario. Second, these crusaders have altered their perceptions to the point that they do not place themselves in the position of caretaker or even just an overseer of their forest whether it be in ship shape or crumbling away. This second option could also have any number of variations to it, but I think I'm making at least a little bit of sense with that general statement. I hope. I could get into some very specific theories regarding peoples' motivations for doing the things they do, but I'm no psychologist and they'd all be hypothetical gibberish anyway. I'd rather not bore myself (or you) with that either.<br /><br />My dashes of cynicism (with media in particular) only exacerbate my reluctance to join up with any cause I am not the founder of. Believe me, I do know how that sounds. I'm comfortable with that though at this stage in my life where my little forest is in such chaos. Even if it was one of the flourishing landscapes that sometimes feels like such a rarity, I would likely feel and act the same way. Do I fully understand that there are starving children, murderers, pollutants and so on in my own backyard and beyond? Of course I do. I cannot force myself to care too much about any of that though outside of my little bubble of space. Again, yes, I know how that may be perceived. At the same time, I'm not too concerned with those perceptions either as I am very comfortable in my own skin, faults and all, and the decisions I make every day. I'm the one that has to live with myself, after all and my conscience is clear.<br /><br />So, basically, what I'm saying about perception is that while I can see the forest in spite of the tree, so to speak, I will continue to direct my concerns where I feel in my heart deserve or require the most attention from me as an individual. This is not a defense, mind you, I already have discussed here and elsewhere that I feel no need to defend myself for being me. It is merely a delving into something I've loosely thought about for several years and finally had enough of a spark of inspiration to dive into it at more length. Again, these damn politics being my inspiration for writing?!? That's crap!<br /><br />I can't have a post without at least one picture so for the sake of keeping with tradition and also having a little bit of fun, this is how I see myself as a tree:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">The weeping willow, very dramatic (in every sense of the word) and a little all over the place and very protectively covering that which really makes me tick.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9HgP16HAzvl6BlFBwuuIww-TK94mYy2scZSYfHb1HzOucvrsEhsf2S5FL-Sx87GNta2HehXkdoWHQnKMgADlbF4njPXSu9g2qc3yQlazjwC0TMN0jpugDa0UMZjwjIK_b95zmEwk8PAHG/s320/Willow.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294190365597927874" /><div style="text-align: center;">But, once you're past all the exterior flash and protection, I'll show you another side that reveals far more about me. Don't go trying to get past that bark though if you know what's good for you. Even I don't like looking there. And no, that's not a nude joke. Just one last piece of the metaphor.</div><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSzA_sRVGMK5OydRyuymLEJ5apQpVvvM97j3RiuELqydw9cZs9kyCDm0cJuvh_8h4sX_4G88vA2g6ODJ3niSwFfykV07bm-LfsARrtsZlVVezeL0rS31XaMH25yu4qLCU6JwL4DEF_-CzI/s320/interior.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294190364352989714" />anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-20347170198185921872009-01-20T11:45:00.004-07:002009-01-20T12:28:32.781-07:00Bitty Babies Everywhere!'Tis the season for many new babies to come into the world. My oldest brother's family just welcomed the beautiful Samantha Skye Schott on the 9th of this month:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_mh9__sBda7MHPIqNVDY1NNwwVZlxMpSIpUlq22NGka_G4QcWmUlwgGVAfCA0KXdrUarG9G339gsSQpOmfobZOaYo6jQTReq5VH1k1VzNPQdD8o3JhC-fM3sUcPYHOu80WaZsFdWdGyZU/s1600-h/schott+family.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_mh9__sBda7MHPIqNVDY1NNwwVZlxMpSIpUlq22NGka_G4QcWmUlwgGVAfCA0KXdrUarG9G339gsSQpOmfobZOaYo6jQTReq5VH1k1VzNPQdD8o3JhC-fM3sUcPYHOu80WaZsFdWdGyZU/s320/schott+family.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293452495183310626" /></a><br /><br />Then, the next brother down the line is expecting another boy the day after my birthday this May. And then even the NEXT brother down the line will bring another little girl into the family in just a few more weeks. Oh, it doesn't end there! One of my dearest, and newest friends (Hi, Meg!) only has about six weeks left before boy number 4 comes along! Finally, I just learned this morning that another absolutely dear friend of mine growing up (Hi, Liz!) is expecting another little one this August. Now, this note goes directly out to Heidi (Kait too, for that matter) whenever she makes it over to my blog again: If you get pregnant before me, given, I'll squeal with delight, but I also might pitch a fit. Oh no, not a fit?! Oh yes, a fit.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong, anyone, I'm not at all baby crazy and we are not planning anything just yet or ever (don't take me too seriously on that second part). These things just always seem to come in waves and when I started doing a head count I got a tad dizzy. Of course, it may just be that I'm finally "that age". You know, the age where everyone you know has or is starting to have kids so it's inevitable that there's going to be crossover. It has just been crazy to have THREE of my sisters-in-law pregnant at the same time!<br /><br />I'm pretty sure that our kids are hanging around in pre-existence, if you believe in such things, which I do...anyway, they're hanging around rolling their eyes at me and Dave just waiting for us to get our shit together. Yes, eliminating indiscriminate cursing will probably be that last thing to go. That really is the least of my concerns involved with bringing a new person into this earthly life. I won't go into my hesitations, but they are many. So, I want to send a collective congratulations out to those I've mentioned and all other expectant families out there in the world. You are more courageous than I.anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-50704020071241852962008-12-31T09:46:00.011-07:002009-01-01T12:38:55.442-07:00WARNING: Graphic content followsSo, one of the many interesting nuances of living in an area that can still be considered semi-rural is that we receive occasional visits by roaming wildlife. Most of these visits are relatively friendly, but some are rather invasive and violent. Yes, yes, I know that my home sits on land that was once a mere foothill where deer and vermin and predators and so on could roam free. But this land was cultivated and altered by man many years before I ever got here and certainly several generations prior to any wildlife that currently strolls around down here.<br /><br /> That being said, I generally welcome most of these visits. I put out feed for the wide variety of local birds and find their antics amusing. We even encountered a deer once that had come over the embankment at the back of our property to get a drink in our pond. I've run a snake or two off the property as well for Dave's sake - he gets the spiders, I get the snakes. We have a completely symbiont life system taking place on our small little patch of earth that even includes us.<br /><br /> You see, we have also brought our own animals to live on and share this land. This has an affect on the wildlife as well. We feed the wild birds, but we also have ducks that require a similar grain-based feed. Mice and rats have a hard time reaching the bird feeders and the scraps that fall don't seem to be much of a lure when there is an ample and easily accessed supply in the duck pen. Snakes are then attracted to our property for the relatively easy access to our resident rodents. We are not in the least bit adverse to poisoning or even shooting any of these pests and do so when necessary. Though, to be fair, the only dead snake we have ever recovered from our property was not poisoned but run over in the driveway. Think what you will of all that, but these are both dangerous and possibly diseased animals that I do not want living in that close of proximity to my family if I have any means to do something about it. So, we occasionally utilize our means.<br /><br /> Our beastly dog, Ebony, generally deters most larger wildlife by her presence alone. Her scent is all over the yard and she adds to it everyday. But sometimes the lure to our wild yard is just too strong. There are regularly hawks and small eagles circling our neighborhood, but I've only once ever seen one actually in our yard and it didn't appear to be hunting. We have seen several raccoons, or possibly the same one several times hanging about our garbage can at night. Among all of these, the only critters that ever really bother me are the raccoons and rodents. Even these, however, are rarely ever actually seen - mostly just the evidence of their presence. In the winter, for instance, we will see rat trails in the snow going from hole to hole leading up to their food supply in the duck pen. Aside from disease, have you priced chicken scratch lately? Corn prices have shot it through the roof and I simply can't tolerate (or afford) sustaining a bunch of rat babies.<br /><br /> I have always worried about having the ducks out in the yard because of all of the wildlife activity, but in nearly five years of keeping ducks we've not once had a predator attack. Until two nights ago. They have a sturdy coop and are fenced in behind a 4' fence on one side and even higher on all other sides. There is a hill, however, that comes up to level with the top of a small part of the 4' fence and that was the point of entry and exit for our vicious visitor. Like the others, it left evidence. More than just the wreckage it also left distinctive tracks that I have deduced down to most likely coyote, or possibly a large fox.<br /><br /> I was in a rush to leave that morning because in my arduous job searching lately, I've been going through the multi-step insanity that is the Postal employment hiring process and had to make it out to a medical assessment within the hour. As I always do, I took a quick peek into the pen as I drove past it after rounding the corner and saw a crumpled looking white pile and I knew something had happened. My first thoughts were directed to the rat poison I had just put out the day before. I had jammed some way up under the coop where a rat hole had been dug and worried that one of them had managed to get their head down the hole and eaten some. What I found was decidedly worse in some ways. Only made slightly better by the fact that I wasn't directly responsible for killing my own pet, I found that two of my three ducks had been brutally massacred sometime in the night. As my pets, however, I also have a responsibility to protect them. Sometimes there's only so much you can do, but I am finding now that there is far more that I can certainly do to keep my remaining girl safe from harm.<br /><br />*Graphic Warning*<br /><br /> I couldn't say if this creature built up in ferocity as it went or if it started strong and ended lamely. I tend to believe the former because of what I found. When I spun my car around and rushed down the yard to assess the situation I was greeted by a gruesome and infuriating scene. The back of my drake's neck was completely missing and his upper back had been rather brutally gouged into as well. The rest of him remained virtually unscathed aside from a few minor punctures. The female that was killed had also been attacked from behind but only insomuch as to end her life. I found the remaining female that had survived cowered in a corner next to the lifeless and mutilated bodies of her companions. Upon initial inspection she appeared to be okay aside from being terribly frightened. I was in such a hurry that all I knew I needed to do at the moment was to move the bodies. With Christmas having just passed I happened to have a few boxes that worked. These were no small birds mind you, weighing in at about 10-12 lbs. each and being roughly twice the overall size of the average house cat.<br /><br /> I called Dave once I hit the freeway to let him know the contents of the two boxes so as to keep the dog away from them and for him to dispose of them while I was away because I simply couldn't do it. I replayed the visions of the wounds over and over again in my head on the way to my appointment becoming more and more upset. I tried to push my thoughts elsewhere, but could not succeed. I am not the person who feels bad for the gazelle when the leopard finally makes that swipe that takes it down. I have compassion for the fact that the predator/prey relationship involves pain and suffering. This was not a predator seeking a meal. It was a slaughter. As awful as the scene was and this may sound, I would have felt much better to have cleaned up my good friends if they had even been partially devoured. It just feels like senseless destruction, almost malicious.<br /><br /> At any rate, Dave and I built a door for the coop to lock my lonesome gal up at night for the immediate future and managed to find a chain link dog run for sale on craigslist that has a roof structure and 6' walls. Who says functionality can't be cute?<br /><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiidpTazlAD46IVUZ5bd4auBcgV7y7hnIDZip-f7fW4hhZhCJWQxv3uHbDfdwCTjXkZyOA_jlKJpaDADsPOaAU4q6GtiZcuNHAtioZTzFDydJfK3XcO0eEAMgnvucsUXFw4ob7DWb9rvre6/s320/coop_1_12.30.08.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286094853191620402" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5DDtur201pl7j_H56tEKUcC865SQQGKg954_BbzKrGRZVhWwquNkl6Wy_vtXIrZH5LyWawW1dlnxs9AugtITNoGQ5l2Q4483CqvXzdVIyvrifhhvblt8Gf588rkLHMLMkcnzWk3i6VZOE/s320/coop_2_12.30.08.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286094859719032450" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEira_jtLQVjvtMcDJ5eJAHtWz-zzi4VTF8Sqjh3a_7XDwg33duA8mWM4salioLxLGHPvXjRxTb0bLQravm09Buzxl-NGqhqHIqXG40G1AKpKTV4GvUIMN3kNavprGjbnQXMkD0z8iIYMyhV/s1600-h/coop_3_12.30.08.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEira_jtLQVjvtMcDJ5eJAHtWz-zzi4VTF8Sqjh3a_7XDwg33duA8mWM4salioLxLGHPvXjRxTb0bLQravm09Buzxl-NGqhqHIqXG40G1AKpKTV4GvUIMN3kNavprGjbnQXMkD0z8iIYMyhV/s320/coop_3_12.30.08.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286094858352486594" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br />Much as I would like vengeance on the sneaky bastard, I will instead seek my peace of mind by doing everything I can to outsmart the instincts of such critters. The Perkins residence will soon be home to a venerable duck Fort Knox. <br /><br />In memory of Dr. Drake Remore and his Little Nurse (lighter). Big Nurse (darker) already misses them both. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKX9MttT67dCdPxrnmUusQyFpiVStVBzvE_UHApX3gvQZ7PHrcEKoSD9IqHXa8kMPi81zE0lixu4Q_jPlPzIobnRynnGUGV5QWk_Fiei7v3suWN-fxBUCm_Q7rQnjazDxf0nfZZMCNVG6C/s1600-h/ducks_1_10.08.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKX9MttT67dCdPxrnmUusQyFpiVStVBzvE_UHApX3gvQZ7PHrcEKoSD9IqHXa8kMPi81zE0lixu4Q_jPlPzIobnRynnGUGV5QWk_Fiei7v3suWN-fxBUCm_Q7rQnjazDxf0nfZZMCNVG6C/s320/ducks_1_10.08.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286103421727583858" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9KRwVlDPKphAxIvx-6VBEsPFvG2LtI930JobMr0sxN1b5ST25QJN_1EfmQTxHn8uUHLVOPr8jev5rU-4GffFboS6QkjnleyzaZP7Gcaquxe74jkkQlQlhN5LiAP62xaEIHuXGMThINiF/s1600-h/ducks_2_10.08.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9KRwVlDPKphAxIvx-6VBEsPFvG2LtI930JobMr0sxN1b5ST25QJN_1EfmQTxHn8uUHLVOPr8jev5rU-4GffFboS6QkjnleyzaZP7Gcaquxe74jkkQlQlhN5LiAP62xaEIHuXGMThINiF/s320/ducks_2_10.08.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286103625593553058" /></a>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-42438667910513329262008-12-11T09:38:00.003-07:002008-12-11T15:18:30.365-07:00So, maybe I'll be a writer when I gets all growed up.I've been writing away quite a bit lately, which has been making my 100+wpm little fingers very happy. All this writing is also starting to give those fingers a good reason to begin drawing again, which also makes them very happy.<br /><br />Here's the skinny: I woke up around 2 in the morning two nights ago with the hamster wheel spinning away in my brain. I woke up thinking about all of the rambling writing I've been doing as of late and how I should direct my focus into a new project. But where to dip my cup into the pools of inspiration? Well, I used to draw nearly every day. Whether for school or simply because I felt like it, I've built up quite an extensive portfolio over the years. While lying in bed trying to figure out why I had woken so abruptly in the first place and then working to reconcile the flashes of streaming thought, an image entered my mind. A drawing I had done about ten years ago after seeing the movie, "The Fifth Element". The opera diva led me to create a series of drawings:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbnBWLS030q7fDHOOTQLYnKzcZhUeva13gEIkhOjFBbzh6FrCIzxyx72cKHJhWdBG5R4H67naV0cQX7uooH9e378njeWYPoAbUaFtt4MfNAIMm882Ph5kmaVjbaHdJyKvGhCEdN8KF4Mw-/s1600-h/crimson_4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbnBWLS030q7fDHOOTQLYnKzcZhUeva13gEIkhOjFBbzh6FrCIzxyx72cKHJhWdBG5R4H67naV0cQX7uooH9e378njeWYPoAbUaFtt4MfNAIMm882Ph5kmaVjbaHdJyKvGhCEdN8KF4Mw-/s320/crimson_4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278657641989940514" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZdcR8KayfwkMkJO5kLJs_oB822TPil9mrBhzMKkTF3syViq4WF4IimOmp-f_oG47FKl_GhhAt-DpF5hydmn1SSJZ8wTrSolU1iDsWJjk_uTRHVW_oIH23GoFTgnpsxqUfUsolQqc6tiQ-/s1600-h/crimson_3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZdcR8KayfwkMkJO5kLJs_oB822TPil9mrBhzMKkTF3syViq4WF4IimOmp-f_oG47FKl_GhhAt-DpF5hydmn1SSJZ8wTrSolU1iDsWJjk_uTRHVW_oIH23GoFTgnpsxqUfUsolQqc6tiQ-/s320/crimson_3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278657632399050642" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg11EzfRcyOFq_0EXq6hqpfJLC7GDQto0NZhSntVHZPdZm6bmRA1Q04cs9iGl9i-8hH96HChCJPP6tSUQXdVt0BNF1xu2QJt7EI7Q5AJ3Y5oC_xdDI28vT5r_H3uGiIkuJZyrOSPHaBJKUN/s1600-h/crimson_2.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg11EzfRcyOFq_0EXq6hqpfJLC7GDQto0NZhSntVHZPdZm6bmRA1Q04cs9iGl9i-8hH96HChCJPP6tSUQXdVt0BNF1xu2QJt7EI7Q5AJ3Y5oC_xdDI28vT5r_H3uGiIkuJZyrOSPHaBJKUN/s320/crimson_2.bmp" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278657631102198178" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSwrneN-IvfXrBpYgkQJoeWAG3reQN5qrjGrxQ3a2foch1Avj5cE6KTipgYiOuM4kQv-QOFtvgMD25f67S3dD7n38dlPFb78gybtg__Vsm9iuTCGvYppFl-x8xhapY6YuArc6HIiKioFR/s1600-h/crimson_1.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSwrneN-IvfXrBpYgkQJoeWAG3reQN5qrjGrxQ3a2foch1Avj5cE6KTipgYiOuM4kQv-QOFtvgMD25f67S3dD7n38dlPFb78gybtg__Vsm9iuTCGvYppFl-x8xhapY6YuArc6HIiKioFR/s320/crimson_1.bmp" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278657627047122882" /></a><br /><br />But one drawing is missing. THE drawing. My organizational skills, while seemingly quite obsessive are actually borderline chaotic. I tend to keep things in piles in various locations around the house. My parents observed this of me and my bedroom while growing up, particularly in my teenage years. It's a habit I still have. Whenever I don't have the time or the will to really organize something, be it the laundry, the mail, shoes, anything, I will make piles to revisit at a later time. Organized chaos. So, the same is true of my personal effects. I have drawings on printer paper, lined school paper, graph paper, napkins, post-it notes, whatever was available when an image simply had to escape my mind and become part of the world. There are about four or five places that these have ended up being tucked away in various corners of the house. Not one of those places I scoured turned up the drawing. All of the others I drew within that approximate time frame were found. <br /><br />The significance of this drawing is that it sparked a train of thought that began to develop into something exciting. Something that kept building and building up strength and energy just like a locomotive. By 2:30 I couldn't stand it anymore and accepted the truth that if I didn't record any of this right NOW that I would certainly lose nearly all of it by sunrise. I slid out of bed as quietly as I could because both Dave and I were already sleeping restlessly because he had final exams the following day. I turned on the computer and began to write a short story about the man in my drawing. About three or four lines into it, it began to rhyme. Two hours later, "Crimson the Collector" had a life and a voice of his own.<br /><br />I am now feverishly trying to recreate my vision of the missing Crimson. I know what he looks like and now I'm trying to convince my fingers that they still know what they're doing after a long hiatus from daily drawing. Stay tuned for more on bringing Crimson the Collector to life.<br /><br /><br>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-47096791281952068602008-11-20T08:04:00.005-07:002008-11-20T08:39:11.397-07:00And now for something completely different<div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">I call this piece: Infanity</div><p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFpGUQw4-R3kJ0YVjPJod16rn9mRiuYI7igpilVDBeabe7fjZuVaR7FlfUHzQdkTe_AAmETUZ3YezrBmSWig62yJf7T2N2ap84M1AQxe26Uulw0nhmiEjyg83nb_Mmz-EgsaJHw_JbI0Z/s1600-h/Twilight+insanity_11.20.08.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270757059399018978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFpGUQw4-R3kJ0YVjPJod16rn9mRiuYI7igpilVDBeabe7fjZuVaR7FlfUHzQdkTe_AAmETUZ3YezrBmSWig62yJf7T2N2ap84M1AQxe26Uulw0nhmiEjyg83nb_Mmz-EgsaJHw_JbI0Z/s400/Twilight+insanity_11.20.08.bmp" border="0" /></a><br />I really was starting to get better; recovering from my temporary and involuntary obsession. Over the last two and a half months since I discovered the Twilight universe I read all four books four times. I did slide two other completely NON-fiction books in there during that time too, so don't get too worried about my mental well-being. I'll check off my fifth reading of Twilight later today as I wait in line for the movie.<br /><br />I came incredibly close to seeing a midnight showing last night in Syracuse, but since I already have my two tickets pictured above for tonight and tomorrow afternoon plus one more scheduled show on Saturday I figured that I could be patient for one more day. </p><p><br /></p>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-35033117955353518732008-11-09T13:06:00.014-07:002008-11-13T11:25:41.842-07:00I never do this...but what the heck, I have everything to lose.<span style="font-size:85%;">Whether you ever wanted my opinions or not, you’re going to get a few very strong ones right now because for one reason or another you like and maybe even love me so you keep up on what I’m doing every now and again. How’s that for a run-on sentence? So, what am I up to right now? I am currently fighting the queasiness I have near-constantly had since this year’s election season began. If I didn’t know better, my stomach would still swear that I was standing in the doorway of a plane at 13,000 feet spoon-style tandem strapped to this stranger I am trusting as an expert. Will our chute open? Am I prepared enough to know what to do if it doesn’t? I’m much more inclined to be an optimist, but with this election I simply can’t shake the instinct that things are about to go horribly, horribly wrong. I am educated as to what our President elect has planned for this nation. Let me just say that for those for whom ignorance is bliss, I envy you at this moment.<br /><br /><?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p>A rather heated family feud ensued about two weeks before elections this year among my immediate and extended family. It all began after my ultra-conservative aunt sent the following email to the whole family:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><o:p></o:p><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:85%;" >Here is a creative approach to redistribution of wealth as offered in a local newspaper...<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:85%;" >Today on my way to lunch I passed a homeless guy with a sign that read "Vote Obama, I need the money." I laughed.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:85%;" >Once in the restaurant my server had on a "Obama 08" tie, again I laughed as he had given away his political preference--just imagine the coincidence.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:85%;" >When the bill came I decided not to tip the server and explained to him that I was exploring the Obama redistribution of wealth concept. He stood there in disbelief while I told him that I was going to redistribute his tip to someone who I deemed more in need--the homeless guy outside. The server angrily stormed from my sight.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:85%;" >I went outside, gave the homeless guy $10 and told him to thank the server inside as I've decided he could use the money more. The homeless guy was grateful.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:85%;" >At the end of my rather unscientific redistribution experiment I realized the homeless guy was grateful for the money he did not earn, but the waiter was pretty angry that I gave away the money he did earn even though the actual recipient needed money more.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:85%;" >I guess redistribution of wealth is an easier thing to swallow in concept than in practical application.</span><o:p><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Political satire as delivered through the medium of comic strips has long-been one of my favorite means of this type of expression. I found this one today, though it is not at all new, and think it fits the above story well.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFsTDIJHDtdM4LObuh5Z-O2hCaPbhXisZiRTVH4XLiendzdUyilNXGKdWmf5MY1_oeL657UWhtgbc8ibKHI1ua0mhAwzo94QBO_t_lQEEOYTHfIIOG0ZYei7I7yBzAwNFbLBhcpL12vjV/s1600-h/redistribute.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266752650797045714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 257px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFsTDIJHDtdM4LObuh5Z-O2hCaPbhXisZiRTVH4XLiendzdUyilNXGKdWmf5MY1_oeL657UWhtgbc8ibKHI1ua0mhAwzo94QBO_t_lQEEOYTHfIIOG0ZYei7I7yBzAwNFbLBhcpL12vjV/s400/redistribute.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">At any rate, the email started a written war of epic proportions from all of the liberals in the family who felt that they had had enough. They were each abusive in their own way – more, I think, from previous and similar emails they had received from this particular aunt. They each also hid behind a façade of peace that was anything but peaceful. I’ve always held strong that just because you offer up a disclaimer of, “I don’t mean to offend” or even, “You know that I love you, but…” these statements don’t pave the way to unleash whatever horrible things you might have to say simply because you’re going to say them “nicely”. It reminded me of the absolute joke that is the positive discipline process. <i>Here, please allow me to butter you up so that you’ll brown nicely when I throw you in the sweltering oven in just a moment.</i></span> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">I too, had had enough and made no pretense of any niceties in MY email. I know that there were some who responded in their own way by only contacting this aunt individually – as was both appropriate and respectful. I purposefully chose the platform of including the entire group in my own email so that we could all be assured to be embarrassed by this kind of behavior. I ran each one of them through my own little ringer – including the aunt. There were different reasons that I was upset with each and every one of them. I am no peacemaker, and this was not a group of people having a debate. It was textual mud-slinging with no intent past mere soap-box moments. Arguments for arguments sake. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">This election season literally turned brother against brother in this country and it makes me sick. These states are not “United” as Barak would like us all to believe. He would like us to believe all of the things he says. He is a politician, after all. He is undoubtedly a man of hope, I won’t deny that. But he is no more so, however, than any other candidate we’ve ever seen in this nation’s history. He is just better with rhetoric and as such, was able to persuade the majority vote. I don’t begrudge him his victory, but I do look with mournful eyes at those loved ones of mine who helped enable this. That is part of the pain this brings me now; knowing that I have lost something very important to me in some people I have held respect and admiration for. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><o:p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span class="body" style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><o:p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Worse yet, there is an air of humor and mockery coming from supporters of Obama’s policies and I don’t know whether I am more afraid that they don’t understand what they’re supporting or possibly worse, that they do understand and still support such potentially destructive ideas. Pathways to hell are frequently paved with good intentions. You might not guess it from what I have just said, but it is still true that I am every bit as much an idealist as I am a realist. Idealism, however, can be every bit as dangerous as a loaded gun being pointed in your direction. It can have the same ultimate effect. History is a wonderful teacher of what ideals like Obama's lead to.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><o:p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">We have all heard and seen the interview with “Joe, the Plumber”, but what I can’t understand is how anyone can really <i>listen</i> to this interview and not believe that they are supporting Socialism by supporting Obama. Marx, Stalin, Obama. Don’t even think for one moment that I’m kidding. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:0;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; FONT-STYLE: italic"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="font-size:85%;">Joe: Your new tax plan is going to tax me more, isn’t it?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="font-size:85%;">Barak: It’s not that I want to punish your success. I just want to make sure that everybody who is behind you, that they’ve got the chance at success too. I think that when you spread the wealth around, it’s good for everybody.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">You either understand what this means, or you’re kidding yourself because you like the guy, but this is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Socialism">Socialism</a>, pure and simple.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Read up, my friends and family, on what exactly has been voted for. Karl Marx once spoke regarding America where he said something along the lines of them not being able force Communism on us all at once, but if they started us down the path of Socialism that little by little we would succumb without even knowing what or how it had happened. Socialism is the bridge between Capitalism and Communism. Again, not kidding even a little bit.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Socalized medicine is no different. I hope you have enjoyed seeing whatever doctor you liked, pretty much whenever you liked. Get ready to pay the same as you are now, possibly more, and three hour lines to see a PA.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Churchill said it best, as usual, </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="body">"Socialism is a philosophy of failure, the creed of ignorance, and the gospel of envy, its inherent virtue is the equal sharing of misery." There's your equality. You can't simply "hand-out" better situations, people actually have to make some decisions in their lives. Well, actually, now they won't be required to. We have elected President Robin Hood to steal from all the evil rich people (didn't you know that having money makes you a bad person and an even worse person if you don't give it away?) and give to all of the good poor people of this country (conversely, didn't you know that being poor makes you a humble, decent, hard-working person?). Money reveals character and we've already seen exactly what handouts more often than not reveal: complete dependence and reliance upon that handout. I am a Christian and I will only teach a man to fish, not steal them from my neighbor because he got up off his ass and went out at 3 o'clock in the morning and what? how? he has the most fish? Well, that can't be fair that he has the most. I should go take some to give to my other neighbor who rolled out of bed hungry at the crack of noon. May I never be too grown-up for sarcasm.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">I had no pony in this race, folks. Just because I am opposed to Obama does not mean that I was a McCain supporter. I don’t think we’ve had a Presidential race that wasn’t up to “the lesser of two evils”, so to speak, in a few decades. Yes, I was unquestioningly more supportive of John McCain, but there was a long string of mistakes and policies that made me disappointed that he was the Republican nominee. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">So, why am I now choosing to bring all of this up? Because many of the people I have been closest to throughout my entire life I am learning are so fundamentally and philosophically divergent from America’s foundation that I am, as earlier stated, sick over it. I think a lot of these controversies come from what everyone eventually ultimately asks themselves, “What is this country all about?” I’ll make it as simple as I can and from my own experience: If you’re a Mormon and you want to know what is true of your church, read the Book of Mormon. If you’re an American and you want to know what is true of your country, read the Constitution. Neither was written with any “blinders” on and I cannot throw my support behind anyone who believes so or wants you to believe so. There are very few things that I am absolutely certain of in this life, but of this I am: God’s divine inspiration was behind both documents and God wears no blinders. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /> </p></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><span style="font-size:85%;">I will continue to live my life as I have always done and pray for personal peace for myself and others and as always, we'll see what happens. If you know me well at all, you know that I don’t write notes when I’m angry and frustrated, I write novels. And since this is my blog and I like to keep it a predominantly harmonious place, this is likely to be my only rant of this scale. Thanks to anyone who persevered through to the end (whether you agree with me or not).<br /></p></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal"><br /></p>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-49170896870264432632008-11-02T22:58:00.003-07:002008-11-02T23:20:45.077-07:00And now, to suffer the malaise onset by the passing of another HalloweenIt's that sad aftermath now where there is the longest amount of time before the next Halloween. Tim Burton, however, can always deliver the mood if you are hit with a spell of despair and longing for the morose.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fxQcBKUPm8o&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fxQcBKUPm8o&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-52453313451993218272008-10-31T23:02:00.007-06:002008-11-01T00:20:57.557-06:00A Highly Hallowed EveningWe had our biggest turnout yet by striking fear into the accelerated beating hearts of no less than 60 young souls. Take a little tour of their journey up the driveway:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgskRqYQAY8IK2p85CGku-eq7CnZzbSNOqja5s70G87ktSzh-AieE47XqVLu-CmEJl8m210WRFzqdBGRxUOE8dX6s4DtkZV45NSzmDaswB6BUWa4AhGAUjVwZ4Vt5RsUANU0ceQy0y2p5WC/s1600-h/hallow_1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgskRqYQAY8IK2p85CGku-eq7CnZzbSNOqja5s70G87ktSzh-AieE47XqVLu-CmEJl8m210WRFzqdBGRxUOE8dX6s4DtkZV45NSzmDaswB6BUWa4AhGAUjVwZ4Vt5RsUANU0ceQy0y2p5WC/s320/hallow_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263568528005167106" border="0" /></a>The graveyard:<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbAjySNxHoKuXrg251bO0cporAspvsnylLLEWXXxnvNiLdVmgP0liXcg4xrGuWwyX6b40w849DM818cFElmnCHaBj07VumgkTmZMkpcICFQJtk4jJ64foFMGJRJ9jD5OdWiEYM-Vs2hQs4/s1600-h/hallow_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbAjySNxHoKuXrg251bO0cporAspvsnylLLEWXXxnvNiLdVmgP0liXcg4xrGuWwyX6b40w849DM818cFElmnCHaBj07VumgkTmZMkpcICFQJtk4jJ64foFMGJRJ9jD5OdWiEYM-Vs2hQs4/s320/hallow_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263556392113139490" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPSgxoLgphGSCt8zvedaxOreFJaxAKxZvHYyikBI5Vdu0Gw747l5aKh7_wzbtAkSp48EGGQ5EHVVKyETKta91NyUNvSdD28715JmFUcJY2sB43tJkOjnvaYY6OJlJnnwz4NUIN6M8tSK1/s1600-h/hallow_3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPSgxoLgphGSCt8zvedaxOreFJaxAKxZvHYyikBI5Vdu0Gw747l5aKh7_wzbtAkSp48EGGQ5EHVVKyETKta91NyUNvSdD28715JmFUcJY2sB43tJkOjnvaYY6OJlJnnwz4NUIN6M8tSK1/s320/hallow_3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263568747706210882" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">When lacking in coffins, simply improvise:<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpaJVQlMmZWe8yPWx7A3oZ3T65Ge27-UUdydK7Nzv-0lUHrTxqAO8Fya8doX0tflnitTATggl75mq9_o-cJuBOLkjEwfcLlDl2rm2VJzDLIBfhgmj8UaJe4AnbfSzaowGrmHlhqAUfEZx3/s1600-h/hallow_4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpaJVQlMmZWe8yPWx7A3oZ3T65Ge27-UUdydK7Nzv-0lUHrTxqAO8Fya8doX0tflnitTATggl75mq9_o-cJuBOLkjEwfcLlDl2rm2VJzDLIBfhgmj8UaJe4AnbfSzaowGrmHlhqAUfEZx3/s320/hallow_4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263556408792659810" border="0" /></a>Seriously, this guy still scares the hell out of me and this year we added to his creepy factor by putting a strobe on him:<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7xHBFCFDZWqcXkXdhiTeoFEw7nc1vN04UiS-Rohs5tVnL-wxysSlRhtnGbVuspkxpnJtSik2qj_RcDMZmEl0jy2th7tW6XvHRC2T6PCjgwYAFaVciyr2KWXo0chVKa5IB1nZ67S1_MFlh/s1600-h/hallow_5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7xHBFCFDZWqcXkXdhiTeoFEw7nc1vN04UiS-Rohs5tVnL-wxysSlRhtnGbVuspkxpnJtSik2qj_RcDMZmEl0jy2th7tW6XvHRC2T6PCjgwYAFaVciyr2KWXo0chVKa5IB1nZ67S1_MFlh/s320/hallow_5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263556411963994402" border="0" /></a>The bubble-fogger had its trial run this year and was a unanimous success. Blowing the fog into bubbles only to let loose once the bubbles pop.....whoever came up with this idea is a freakin' genius:<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4mnTrTmXpvXbuLVuR_YqMywhbXPbbhs_nsZDi3yCBTbFalp6CwG080S8mQR1TYlRo4cbNAhe6jVOvBP-Bo3v9rRx6tPQ1xlGBmqkGfN5zYXi1xTHQOuhOw_mOeN14fK0dmctrNPeekRJT/s1600-h/hallow_9.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4mnTrTmXpvXbuLVuR_YqMywhbXPbbhs_nsZDi3yCBTbFalp6CwG080S8mQR1TYlRo4cbNAhe6jVOvBP-Bo3v9rRx6tPQ1xlGBmqkGfN5zYXi1xTHQOuhOw_mOeN14fK0dmctrNPeekRJT/s320/hallow_9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263558921578177426" border="0" /></a>We can't have anyone getting lost, now can we:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz948d5cVLuvO6XVdcF9SxbztPsEufDj8tOV0rBQz1TZzq_RHHn7N3RyKNr4vYQ3F5-_6ZOuJIZ4J09E13k-QfRCZ9XkyT9FaI9H3fkYCzZxOU8mf3OnXtSlAzDXnvcP3t3ot_QH7FLw1N/s1600-h/hallow_11+earlier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz948d5cVLuvO6XVdcF9SxbztPsEufDj8tOV0rBQz1TZzq_RHHn7N3RyKNr4vYQ3F5-_6ZOuJIZ4J09E13k-QfRCZ9XkyT9FaI9H3fkYCzZxOU8mf3OnXtSlAzDXnvcP3t3ot_QH7FLw1N/s320/hallow_11+earlier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263569004708760866" border="0" /></a>The final approach:<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJlRGX6Ux3fA-4B7_-7xpeuFY75JGDkfY2ZHe3RGoF4tXtuhVjXpsKBw4VSIJaH053zljPbjpuwaAXAAD7SynD11unhW00W0eiPFUkyltApLRadBVmbDKOe72DIRFgDUbIU5kaQnkMB0_B/s1600-h/hallow_8.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJlRGX6Ux3fA-4B7_-7xpeuFY75JGDkfY2ZHe3RGoF4tXtuhVjXpsKBw4VSIJaH053zljPbjpuwaAXAAD7SynD11unhW00W0eiPFUkyltApLRadBVmbDKOe72DIRFgDUbIU5kaQnkMB0_B/s320/hallow_8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263558911780728754" border="0" /></a>This lovely fellow kindly lights the way (you should see the giant wolf spider that has set up shop in this guy's sleeve *shutter*):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrVFe9A29qiOj2w0BChuVxLXCE7KaLTq67-1e_4X_XmRDIPW2llz6doTcuFzqMmJ7pK-thxtuUf4tjHHftaxFTD6HRK_AmkQMuRlvFqn5VT3yRWkJ0bAI3TszBXd1rlyyLXXmINlh7hm3-/s1600-h/hallow_7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrVFe9A29qiOj2w0BChuVxLXCE7KaLTq67-1e_4X_XmRDIPW2llz6doTcuFzqMmJ7pK-thxtuUf4tjHHftaxFTD6HRK_AmkQMuRlvFqn5VT3yRWkJ0bAI3TszBXd1rlyyLXXmINlh7hm3-/s320/hallow_7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263569212883179810" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJHVLGPc_9hBvqBIJX8tQmpDqtowg06UhQvj3LB_S_vPpsiTWhyphenhyphenTXrjWHkubjveqEPIibKQ1UsVODeUNdkSy1-MjyCXyKIAjS2GogSODbunAUtVo2XU3cSe0jSk2lC3vmXpV2osIZJvbLy/s1600-h/hallow_6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJHVLGPc_9hBvqBIJX8tQmpDqtowg06UhQvj3LB_S_vPpsiTWhyphenhyphenTXrjWHkubjveqEPIibKQ1UsVODeUNdkSy1-MjyCXyKIAjS2GogSODbunAUtVo2XU3cSe0jSk2lC3vmXpV2osIZJvbLy/s320/hallow_6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263558903885486770" border="0" /></a>Another new addition this year, more giant spiders, but this one's animatronic:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzc0pW2_2o0SCkp7VUCGxdZE6jU404KssqSqhxCOZCwsevPIlS6pTLkI8gS9OHyrqm2KYwjRldIbzic6kKvzOszroX76XUa-MUpRrRe6MzYEUCJsB_yTF2BRZUg_mTmdthF46UdKdBJ7AZ/s1600-h/hallow_10.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzc0pW2_2o0SCkp7VUCGxdZE6jU404KssqSqhxCOZCwsevPIlS6pTLkI8gS9OHyrqm2KYwjRldIbzic6kKvzOszroX76XUa-MUpRrRe6MzYEUCJsB_yTF2BRZUg_mTmdthF46UdKdBJ7AZ/s320/hallow_10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263561756323600258" border="0" /></a>Every Halloween calls for at least one witch brooding over her brew:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCniUQSCWk_ZXMUxCbaMl1AaV82q87EwEY_Xy-NJfKc0Nl71KOn7pZvY0saxTuXrgV3rkCmUXBRB-NMFRw6hx1dlOgulotTivFB1ZUo-SOWmc8paRKBqvCiGWxnCFeyiKOikL8_hZx4T7z/s1600-h/hallow_12.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCniUQSCWk_ZXMUxCbaMl1AaV82q87EwEY_Xy-NJfKc0Nl71KOn7pZvY0saxTuXrgV3rkCmUXBRB-NMFRw6hx1dlOgulotTivFB1ZUo-SOWmc8paRKBqvCiGWxnCFeyiKOikL8_hZx4T7z/s320/hallow_12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263561761582130978" border="0" /></a>A brief flash into my future:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Ue4rvWLuVscAswQ581uPa2xzzDt01gNsQ1F2_H4-skKwpKROIj5cn3BKA-OKSiNxpXl055s9ol8sgflGa3EXOqpC6jbdnbrJLuLTWykW6OwoZneu3dRyf6etnmfW8H1f-GmpYvAVG1-U/s1600-h/hallow_13.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Ue4rvWLuVscAswQ581uPa2xzzDt01gNsQ1F2_H4-skKwpKROIj5cn3BKA-OKSiNxpXl055s9ol8sgflGa3EXOqpC6jbdnbrJLuLTWykW6OwoZneu3dRyf6etnmfW8H1f-GmpYvAVG1-U/s320/hallow_13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263569397728920994" border="0" /></a>Some of the best stuff was inside this year. Who knew a balloon and cheese cloth could be so creepy?:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8J0zBvPe535pi6pl2X48mGE9IEkFkP0cCF3iviNJik2BChbr-v_EaPgxHv_Kxxd57z4lATur2j6leRILaVp56dbU5_c2j5vrAwN7cNKf7bag2yBiR3V19A_XydrrD3tQXggflBm-F2SeJ/s1600-h/hall+in_1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8J0zBvPe535pi6pl2X48mGE9IEkFkP0cCF3iviNJik2BChbr-v_EaPgxHv_Kxxd57z4lATur2j6leRILaVp56dbU5_c2j5vrAwN7cNKf7bag2yBiR3V19A_XydrrD3tQXggflBm-F2SeJ/s320/hall+in_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263569701033484594" border="0" /></a>This reaper is actually a smoker, but he took a dive a few days ago and the top of his head crumbled into pieces. I have some rebuilding still to do, but when you put cone incense inside him the smoke comes out of the hollow face, it's super cool:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqR1j2ujZIohJgm6YUSAliCb0C7pkXYkBZxQJIY4EuVmQm4v8l4edFBMt328CfvSLBilLJyAyE87jxZawLcRimONiHbE3FjfBFIu1vgbWFgj956idGGAaSfc1UIIucwxwxNfxYPIaLFJR/s1600-h/hall+in_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqR1j2ujZIohJgm6YUSAliCb0C7pkXYkBZxQJIY4EuVmQm4v8l4edFBMt328CfvSLBilLJyAyE87jxZawLcRimONiHbE3FjfBFIu1vgbWFgj956idGGAaSfc1UIIucwxwxNfxYPIaLFJR/s320/hall+in_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263569711717120802" border="0" /></a>I came up with a great way to use those permanent pumpkins - lampshade!:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEuplcK85_ujQgd4ZXtK4foSUHAaQy3rIpik8Bb_7ysPBeplknXPA7BR7SMUQ_J8jejabnwnZ_QF_x1HckG2v5xI620zAAZZbXFgpfdOcv9DdmFQg2qpA92I7NNYQBuFTouxWEuPX1HWvL/s1600-h/hall+in_3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEuplcK85_ujQgd4ZXtK4foSUHAaQy3rIpik8Bb_7ysPBeplknXPA7BR7SMUQ_J8jejabnwnZ_QF_x1HckG2v5xI620zAAZZbXFgpfdOcv9DdmFQg2qpA92I7NNYQBuFTouxWEuPX1HWvL/s320/hall+in_3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263569717971644338" border="0" /></a><br />HAPPY HALLOWEEN!<br /><br />Good night sweet Doppelganger, until next year.....<br /><br /><br /></div>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-39314940150912808042008-10-21T10:48:00.011-06:002008-11-01T01:00:10.524-06:00Catching up on a thing or twoI've recently decided to try my hand at face-painting and my very willing nephew never shies away from being my guinea pig. He was headed to a BYU game and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity for a little practice.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQGTJQRp3d3o5z11pQcexavgTnWIiYDSkVotP2xgxdW82lUUULf_sKpl7uHwnn5GnpFfFB0506Y_l_yrPEadJ_44jqsl8YuRw8ova2p9sXINYREzM8isKt5GPG0cOi4JrlPhelt7I5ZNb3/s1600-h/IMG_6698.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQGTJQRp3d3o5z11pQcexavgTnWIiYDSkVotP2xgxdW82lUUULf_sKpl7uHwnn5GnpFfFB0506Y_l_yrPEadJ_44jqsl8YuRw8ova2p9sXINYREzM8isKt5GPG0cOi4JrlPhelt7I5ZNb3/s320/IMG_6698.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259651629460431074" border="0" /></a><br />He was thrilled that the teeth stretched into long fangs whenever he was going to scream at the game. It's the little things in life, isn't it?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_XpKzBBCWvV0SOoQNZWyG-MJSEU6QxyhM5DvKcusCNfPg3sC0xJlpnbrY15TFEQQjifsXvmHOIA6vXWlBLE96DCC7BHKhI9Ix_1zV1jKxdlUpdPnSiM6n5bTGf4MZtmr1SwrhcmdcGwV/s1600-h/IMG_6697.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_XpKzBBCWvV0SOoQNZWyG-MJSEU6QxyhM5DvKcusCNfPg3sC0xJlpnbrY15TFEQQjifsXvmHOIA6vXWlBLE96DCC7BHKhI9Ix_1zV1jKxdlUpdPnSiM6n5bTGf4MZtmr1SwrhcmdcGwV/s320/IMG_6697.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259652294836025778" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Next on the catch-up itinerary is just a few of my choice favorites from shooting my cousin's vow renewal ceremony two weekends ago.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">The quintessential image of mother fastening daughter into wedding dress:<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdVBgY-vvu3KsSwbIalPtvi5PSDJZgNKXYixxhZ930F7tnUHanBU-hFY-rJEixIPag2HvsHw5Te9rjIBYyScXXKIapu_60JOkxHcW4f63_vWKCB8Ol_4o9P2_v60riChI5n_-D10Vt6qZE/s1600-h/wed_1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdVBgY-vvu3KsSwbIalPtvi5PSDJZgNKXYixxhZ930F7tnUHanBU-hFY-rJEixIPag2HvsHw5Te9rjIBYyScXXKIapu_60JOkxHcW4f63_vWKCB8Ol_4o9P2_v60riChI5n_-D10Vt6qZE/s200/wed_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263577239763126050" border="0" /></a>The lovely bride:<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQcqGlrO7YZjCfDxOEMa-dvn1NsJ_aQWX3qa2lxC1oHpT-o0NNM9BD-FhLu7XvBtm01t6PrzBEOa7FDwTlrYJfYNg-SVvSYon_NvQ1fLbqL0iLub-XoCJLSNcwToMDnPNY92UV0d5pIej6/s1600-h/wed_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQcqGlrO7YZjCfDxOEMa-dvn1NsJ_aQWX3qa2lxC1oHpT-o0NNM9BD-FhLu7XvBtm01t6PrzBEOa7FDwTlrYJfYNg-SVvSYon_NvQ1fLbqL0iLub-XoCJLSNcwToMDnPNY92UV0d5pIej6/s200/wed_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263577238920629474" border="0" /></a>Four generations apart:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xiNpcdYYl9NweJRz4StJze-kA5ZtKeXTedheetJaALj5mTZvImEqLOI-xSyGs-eVgmoXMmMisVyms980vwKqiE_rbpRLF4Q5owYYzQ20gWmFGnd6C77NP2yzIHbrRKn2DDu45-eFd-Eh/s1600-h/wed_3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xiNpcdYYl9NweJRz4StJze-kA5ZtKeXTedheetJaALj5mTZvImEqLOI-xSyGs-eVgmoXMmMisVyms980vwKqiE_rbpRLF4Q5owYYzQ20gWmFGnd6C77NP2yzIHbrRKn2DDu45-eFd-Eh/s200/wed_3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263577245998001666" border="0" /></a>I'm quite sure that none of the ladies pictured here would like this image at all, but I love it because I know these women so well. Three generations of fiery red-heads. This photograph tells MANY stories:<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2auErrbIl5d6aXNscaalQ9HYgtsGO82xtwICcihx3G7VGbsXN0LVO_a_nlR2yjtRHMycIxjpkZmv69izfbrbWGWgtlYQlmfDLY_-be6qYtqpGrlIAIiNPMRaAp9MRHWRHmH4e97980Hl/s1600-h/wed_4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2auErrbIl5d6aXNscaalQ9HYgtsGO82xtwICcihx3G7VGbsXN0LVO_a_nlR2yjtRHMycIxjpkZmv69izfbrbWGWgtlYQlmfDLY_-be6qYtqpGrlIAIiNPMRaAp9MRHWRHmH4e97980Hl/s200/wed_4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263577252852260290" border="0" /></a>The lovely couple:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyeXLgCDSkFoPB8D8pXKG6QwO1iSWmz3QPN48X6nHUSAzIYVBR7wrK24cBKxoBVdZoGU_WhDPwwpH_uPJn2v1oEOCS4HjJ8aWmPdjHxmstxyIY9sQc3gFBbWe37572V8Qz7KM_D-zNIs0j/s1600-h/wed_5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyeXLgCDSkFoPB8D8pXKG6QwO1iSWmz3QPN48X6nHUSAzIYVBR7wrK24cBKxoBVdZoGU_WhDPwwpH_uPJn2v1oEOCS4HjJ8aWmPdjHxmstxyIY9sQc3gFBbWe37572V8Qz7KM_D-zNIs0j/s200/wed_5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263577250795301858" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I simply could NOT get a good shot in this corner and gave up, but had to include the best of the lot anyway for the sake of showing off the kilts (a staple at any of our family weddings):<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwEw0GSbwuqe7Nk9n_pJ1UVKNL9sAEucyn5dK1wTNUcnstcS-ula0yKGQ7U3IFaoby2uoNGOi8t3g4xTHc4v2Kvb0B9opWiq4Jb-17rmvfIjUGuSsDDK8E2SAtfLqHkVjzgFN0T-K_1bUk/s1600-h/wed_6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwEw0GSbwuqe7Nk9n_pJ1UVKNL9sAEucyn5dK1wTNUcnstcS-ula0yKGQ7U3IFaoby2uoNGOi8t3g4xTHc4v2Kvb0B9opWiq4Jb-17rmvfIjUGuSsDDK8E2SAtfLqHkVjzgFN0T-K_1bUk/s200/wed_6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263578023329885042" border="0" /></a>A nice moment:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHis9vJW01nB8KXzTIRcdmzPB2C3FE4EvdctKdn_UGobWySbFhZD0L6C3npzIjkvJnVRshGYfTeEU6TauPozQTwxn4Dvxb7sxU4XE7NdiJUcwq2zQjQEwGKe6JHu5G_WU0PV0rHHiuBnap/s1600-h/wed_7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHis9vJW01nB8KXzTIRcdmzPB2C3FE4EvdctKdn_UGobWySbFhZD0L6C3npzIjkvJnVRshGYfTeEU6TauPozQTwxn4Dvxb7sxU4XE7NdiJUcwq2zQjQEwGKe6JHu5G_WU0PV0rHHiuBnap/s200/wed_7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263578030949846098" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMmoUWTj1XCectcLaGkJ-5JZH92cxzWCF1XVJTYRTXEU21O9eGb3KKHVwfnTwTmU4tkC3juTr1MMgcK-wpIkd9yJIPw9SI_z5iQyjlSnNrH6HaJMqVm-oKy-ml6I_YD5u86jG5eSmOBVfr/s1600-h/wed_8.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMmoUWTj1XCectcLaGkJ-5JZH92cxzWCF1XVJTYRTXEU21O9eGb3KKHVwfnTwTmU4tkC3juTr1MMgcK-wpIkd9yJIPw9SI_z5iQyjlSnNrH6HaJMqVm-oKy-ml6I_YD5u86jG5eSmOBVfr/s200/wed_8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263578032828495346" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMkdxihb-R8azJYmod8OYrMWwutmqblZ5Ea_klYsSjVZe884dvBL9xyl88tJN6uJBBzzVR1aHAqCZDZjib29c9XugoZKoaHgRGfhbM_rFB2x8btED5ciH_zTKvidB7FLgsHjiB5h307m77/s1600-h/wed_9.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMkdxihb-R8azJYmod8OYrMWwutmqblZ5Ea_klYsSjVZe884dvBL9xyl88tJN6uJBBzzVR1aHAqCZDZjib29c9XugoZKoaHgRGfhbM_rFB2x8btED5ciH_zTKvidB7FLgsHjiB5h307m77/s200/wed_9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263578037129222290" border="0" /></a>A coy moment when a pregnant woman (my sister-in-law) would love to snatch that glass of champagne that her husband (my brother) just poured:<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIr0EOcBVbhiHC8AjowSEq9dk-P-oxYi1A6lEG30RC6CWPsQqtyZuWrmLu-Zp3u9Xv0ba6psfe_4l0uxsk_Um0SYyt_J7VfxqyVATBoI0LO2YQ4bdzs_DoROBgBki8j6018x6HQqK88B8/s1600-h/wed_10.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIr0EOcBVbhiHC8AjowSEq9dk-P-oxYi1A6lEG30RC6CWPsQqtyZuWrmLu-Zp3u9Xv0ba6psfe_4l0uxsk_Um0SYyt_J7VfxqyVATBoI0LO2YQ4bdzs_DoROBgBki8j6018x6HQqK88B8/s200/wed_10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263578042575194946" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">This shot reminded me of a paparazzi frenzy over a budding new Hollywood couple:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2R6xJdBkmL0xAdgiZtwTl8nCs92VqoS-Ag5A4Vqq6IeH9LnpTPKhIwnZUNBl80TyvO1l4zc0T4zuvCglcD0EdhGnt_pXk7l5NDLHVLqp9Th2uffXzSu8CnGM_dR1tRQbXAiLm8fflY0Bm/s1600-h/wed_11.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2R6xJdBkmL0xAdgiZtwTl8nCs92VqoS-Ag5A4Vqq6IeH9LnpTPKhIwnZUNBl80TyvO1l4zc0T4zuvCglcD0EdhGnt_pXk7l5NDLHVLqp9Th2uffXzSu8CnGM_dR1tRQbXAiLm8fflY0Bm/s200/wed_11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263578766872510482" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I love my brother so much.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh4nR1w_LS8ymjgubGsMYsZXWC2aL72gZpS0uzUEWOdABdQDUX7AiKznFAsKLnyKjjDp1NL1Dyb3LgJwwm2tJXh24IMPkmXnbjVk198d6sVeTXMR4Eb9_CbO2eVFVdrz_NI3BwIyd4nYns/s1600-h/wed_12.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh4nR1w_LS8ymjgubGsMYsZXWC2aL72gZpS0uzUEWOdABdQDUX7AiKznFAsKLnyKjjDp1NL1Dyb3LgJwwm2tJXh24IMPkmXnbjVk198d6sVeTXMR4Eb9_CbO2eVFVdrz_NI3BwIyd4nYns/s200/wed_12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263578770395605154" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">There is so much about this picture that I love; every element of it:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOHf8P1lpYTvjysqtYuF3QpQhPOEnQjn7ZlTkVaLSk1gubcVr7n11LFBQ99iDfpkvM5WSxZ7JinCcNiLT0gd_KLXJlH07d9X218GyQZqoHAW_4e1DM_QrPSM7yO8Pu0yzjM5wCDiuN3LI/s1600-h/wed_13.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOHf8P1lpYTvjysqtYuF3QpQhPOEnQjn7ZlTkVaLSk1gubcVr7n11LFBQ99iDfpkvM5WSxZ7JinCcNiLT0gd_KLXJlH07d9X218GyQZqoHAW_4e1DM_QrPSM7yO8Pu0yzjM5wCDiuN3LI/s200/wed_13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263578779359112002" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">If you know my grandparents AT ALL, this photograph will make you laugh out loud:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYiDMIX2oec0jHklFbsAevlvcBmzkT30VPMJ_fxGlFk6_B2r1zFPm2AvdKc5PaPJsSNNdfOLu04IcaIUiiaf_uGvMGYEeMhCla7TU4jKHm87tbrCaWKoWJ2ALnuB5Jkv_XQnV3t9_zmcs/s1600-h/wed_14.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYiDMIX2oec0jHklFbsAevlvcBmzkT30VPMJ_fxGlFk6_B2r1zFPm2AvdKc5PaPJsSNNdfOLu04IcaIUiiaf_uGvMGYEeMhCla7TU4jKHm87tbrCaWKoWJ2ALnuB5Jkv_XQnV3t9_zmcs/s200/wed_14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263578786666475026" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Cute as buttons, but hell on wheels:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ3TP6S23byf1GVBl7cz0YMvc7Eq2r988uFDEyYEdXlz1XAnXIlM0mg7S64nG0fMnXhAbcD6Hzz7DO_nNFY4Y0eUn7wQjFVT_n_BtVnQg7p1pAjSk4-U4Zhs3wLadUrtKK6tThdkG_ClhV/s1600-h/wed_15.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ3TP6S23byf1GVBl7cz0YMvc7Eq2r988uFDEyYEdXlz1XAnXIlM0mg7S64nG0fMnXhAbcD6Hzz7DO_nNFY4Y0eUn7wQjFVT_n_BtVnQg7p1pAjSk4-U4Zhs3wLadUrtKK6tThdkG_ClhV/s200/wed_15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263578786238914514" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Just something about this one, I really like it. There's something so "them" about it:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1HDm67uOGpIW4tp9kWRIo3svfyBShscAJZ2H-BGD2rTs3iNV_zEEyaVUmrREmubgrH-kbQlz4PUqzEXccLvvZHlsGABf_N_nLhNi2qXJCBtFH0RUV48wJro_tpKSOamIZXgGwZJyblSdm/s1600-h/wed_16.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1HDm67uOGpIW4tp9kWRIo3svfyBShscAJZ2H-BGD2rTs3iNV_zEEyaVUmrREmubgrH-kbQlz4PUqzEXccLvvZHlsGABf_N_nLhNi2qXJCBtFH0RUV48wJro_tpKSOamIZXgGwZJyblSdm/s200/wed_16.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263579384543948642" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I have the most beautiful sisters, here is one of them:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGhVUPcLjKvlMjs27-RKLzfsCvOGRpnOgi2Ztt6SyZyvSnBfil3x0nmgWCsMveqTAWaE-Q-P51UrIBI8ue73IgzmiyTAFeur26IfGzbDqEuuszlB-bRFk6wl4w5Inb6-XQ0MVfZm_3C2P/s1600-h/wed_17.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGhVUPcLjKvlMjs27-RKLzfsCvOGRpnOgi2Ztt6SyZyvSnBfil3x0nmgWCsMveqTAWaE-Q-P51UrIBI8ue73IgzmiyTAFeur26IfGzbDqEuuszlB-bRFk6wl4w5Inb6-XQ0MVfZm_3C2P/s200/wed_17.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263579390787532882" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Ok, if you're going to pose, which is hammy anyway, go all out:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDVvrksFLervYzlBPtNDQCS-l4L2St30-QnChGBRDQTu5oX9YPqn3LCb8zCeO2hupUYAZbQYXeM8OznhhrHVnz41XL-7WGH2RIFTgh6mlRv2GuwHumot4ClDXl2WDR4Fi9Wde4C7XkIOv/s1600-h/wed_18.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDVvrksFLervYzlBPtNDQCS-l4L2St30-QnChGBRDQTu5oX9YPqn3LCb8zCeO2hupUYAZbQYXeM8OznhhrHVnz41XL-7WGH2RIFTgh6mlRv2GuwHumot4ClDXl2WDR4Fi9Wde4C7XkIOv/s200/wed_18.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263579401242864210" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I took a TON of casual conversation shots. These are just three of my favorites from the night:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgSwvIzTMmvoEXTcy4vMAHDkH0bd8vxcnF8hZm8-yDUaZZu4Q2gGzyfWgEi0KrilFdYh5h_QoL1c53jKzfSgbTgNij3NDiv63uZrt32WN1xHDALy_j1K8cMUCGDoqcacPbyW4VcoVWyJm/s1600-h/wed_19.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgSwvIzTMmvoEXTcy4vMAHDkH0bd8vxcnF8hZm8-yDUaZZu4Q2gGzyfWgEi0KrilFdYh5h_QoL1c53jKzfSgbTgNij3NDiv63uZrt32WN1xHDALy_j1K8cMUCGDoqcacPbyW4VcoVWyJm/s200/wed_19.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263579404944841922" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrxXsflgU7VskHOwLvGZh2z1cLzCoIw49CaY3jl4wevoRTA3333S1g0akHNRTFXqHJ-lU0M-aMM8YcZerlg3Of6a66tkS17DvCYWvGsLXC-YdphNqlkXvfWbLHNu7F1Zx9IbniDVuN_8pE/s1600-h/wed_20.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrxXsflgU7VskHOwLvGZh2z1cLzCoIw49CaY3jl4wevoRTA3333S1g0akHNRTFXqHJ-lU0M-aMM8YcZerlg3Of6a66tkS17DvCYWvGsLXC-YdphNqlkXvfWbLHNu7F1Zx9IbniDVuN_8pE/s200/wed_20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263579407684197458" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZJcGdrXreTq5qU7VYYGgExg9L7-STW1VqItKxaBP_GjQ3ZUHvibqDHD-OuWt3qghVlpZkWq4MyhsuLhf0xHjT9IZLZJtSz0YzI8dYSLpwZheRZobfFaepPRRwcOgTc0Hc_kvE2-cKBTHr/s1600-h/wed_21.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZJcGdrXreTq5qU7VYYGgExg9L7-STW1VqItKxaBP_GjQ3ZUHvibqDHD-OuWt3qghVlpZkWq4MyhsuLhf0xHjT9IZLZJtSz0YzI8dYSLpwZheRZobfFaepPRRwcOgTc0Hc_kvE2-cKBTHr/s200/wed_21.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263580057131415618" border="0" /></a>It's the cute ones you have to watch out for:<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfudCoj3tYHGLqMTgSqq9obwyvxNYdn03k1TtKmk6Fws3t9Ub11QBnDHIUB_nlul48VFE_XoehB_4JDd3_m-CQvDfDuX77_XJ-zK5jsg9W4ZjWFdMKzSPdMziZCiFlCwLP5iPLeP_4aLR/s1600-h/wed_22.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfudCoj3tYHGLqMTgSqq9obwyvxNYdn03k1TtKmk6Fws3t9Ub11QBnDHIUB_nlul48VFE_XoehB_4JDd3_m-CQvDfDuX77_XJ-zK5jsg9W4ZjWFdMKzSPdMziZCiFlCwLP5iPLeP_4aLR/s200/wed_22.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263580062330061602" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I swear, this girl was born a teenager:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaG7PYyBmatMGG8d9dz-6KtdwpR6Yyp6ODgPCiFfGivIPWGEVqsOBaIspURyusTwlKSAhyphenhyphentc6ZuYiNf99MXEQXLzh29bFWJDrIfVyEWzujDgBP8LK5ywyoj_5GEa0GDuBVSloR8UyxMXpk/s1600-h/wed_23.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaG7PYyBmatMGG8d9dz-6KtdwpR6Yyp6ODgPCiFfGivIPWGEVqsOBaIspURyusTwlKSAhyphenhyphentc6ZuYiNf99MXEQXLzh29bFWJDrIfVyEWzujDgBP8LK5ywyoj_5GEa0GDuBVSloR8UyxMXpk/s200/wed_23.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263580066585092530" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes, the best father/son images are the ones you don't expect at all:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxg-gWQ2QyP_ffj6uf4LQqsCtm98UVUqD_yz6El88jM8W1Eufm4AW81VNPsRqM2Zj0gzockLJKUJGsTGiMzC027Rbmo-y7tpzk7M_6uhyphenhyphenq4mi2yuD0S27Q2t6nEvoQ8g0qX-Et2bvTabg/s1600-h/wed_24.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxg-gWQ2QyP_ffj6uf4LQqsCtm98UVUqD_yz6El88jM8W1Eufm4AW81VNPsRqM2Zj0gzockLJKUJGsTGiMzC027Rbmo-y7tpzk7M_6uhyphenhyphenq4mi2yuD0S27Q2t6nEvoQ8g0qX-Et2bvTabg/s200/wed_24.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263580075046999554" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">No wedding would be complete without family regaling one another with hidden talents:<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9OCYa-QzhDG29RczBKCVsp2CIct_hV0QCHI2kDFLUAqG8bPfUiF6y2YfVLtUJ8Bt7w2F2ENOqnJGHfMydmDI-SVZ7xZI5Zk81qT7BlsFRtLUxdm4wx5b-otHswc0qNF2aTFrf6WMAQqB/s1600-h/wed_25.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9OCYa-QzhDG29RczBKCVsp2CIct_hV0QCHI2kDFLUAqG8bPfUiF6y2YfVLtUJ8Bt7w2F2ENOqnJGHfMydmDI-SVZ7xZI5Zk81qT7BlsFRtLUxdm4wx5b-otHswc0qNF2aTFrf6WMAQqB/s200/wed_25.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263580076093219810" border="0" /></a>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-51429465075291928472008-10-10T11:01:00.004-06:002008-10-10T11:31:18.924-06:00Oh, Sweet Holy Maria!!!<a href="http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=44287812">Twilight HD Exclusive Trailer</a><br/><object width="425px" height="360px" ><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"/><param name="movie" value="http://mediaservices.myspace.com/services/media/embed.aspx/m=44287812,t=1,mt=video"/><embed src="http://mediaservices.myspace.com/services/media/embed.aspx/m=44287812,t=1,mt=video" width="425" height="360" allowFullScreen="true" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><br /><br />Catherine Hardwicke is the newest addition to my goddess list!<br /><br />Ok, this is a deranged observation, but then again, I do have a one-track mind. At the 1:15 mark when they're in the tree together it TOTALLY looks like Bella is grabbing Edward's um, you know...<br /><br>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-58780741805394520312008-10-07T19:38:00.011-06:002008-10-08T21:47:50.013-06:00All Hallows' Eve<br>There are few things I have found in this wonderful life that give me such great joy as the shrieks of terror uttered from the mouths of very small children. The only thing that makes that sound even sweeter is when the fright is delivered by my own hand (*insert vaudevillian-villain laugh here).<br /><br />A large portion of my infatuation with Autumn stems from the fact that it heralds the coming of my favorite of all holidays, Halloween. I can't recall exactly when I realized that it was indeed my favorite, but the six (count 'em, six!) 31-gallon-a-piece Rubbermaid tubs it takes to store my collection of horror-inducing props and contraband have made it a clear staple of my adult life that I annually look forward to with emphatic zeal.<br /><br />My serene delight with Fall as described in my last entry is quickly and undeniably overshadowed for several weeks by the sudden reappearance of my own personal and maniacal little doppelganger. No really, this is what it actually looks like:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhIRGR5HZA1GGwXfLyKK1NGj6qlqfEG_iQWkKsoHsCY66LIgPZLiUUuvOXo41SWrRnAoQ8ZJWK7MjGNs8bWaaDafANjU4nwF8bz8QyZOY_xcO49vTG_GG2yIHcq8llj1FwJgU7hsElklL_/s1600-h/laughing+demon.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhIRGR5HZA1GGwXfLyKK1NGj6qlqfEG_iQWkKsoHsCY66LIgPZLiUUuvOXo41SWrRnAoQ8ZJWK7MjGNs8bWaaDafANjU4nwF8bz8QyZOY_xcO49vTG_GG2yIHcq8llj1FwJgU7hsElklL_/s320/laughing+demon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254597251441773954" /></a><br /><br />I know! What's the deal, right?! Just trailin' behind me like it owns the place for the whole month, giddy as a schoolgirl! It faithfully retreats though come the first of every November to wait patiently for its next opportunity for brilliant re-emergence. Stay tuned to see what trouble it gets up to this year...<br /><br>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-58604367987132720122008-09-15T19:06:00.012-06:002008-09-15T20:40:30.641-06:00Sweater Weather!<br><br />This is me:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Py0Uk27ZhQo5Ol51Ss91qUuuhBUUGrqKbh0O6ZNMX-VhvWeoheMG0tUBuUkE7cFzVZ_aHiCqUUOX7C3ULZpt6uSZpOWwyE79WbMsEuG4SxhFwx4z3tBfm9J-iB6bsz8CqXFtaOuf2vZa/s1600-h/Sweater+Weather+-+SCRAP+RED+GRAINIER+72PX.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Py0Uk27ZhQo5Ol51Ss91qUuuhBUUGrqKbh0O6ZNMX-VhvWeoheMG0tUBuUkE7cFzVZ_aHiCqUUOX7C3ULZpt6uSZpOWwyE79WbMsEuG4SxhFwx4z3tBfm9J-iB6bsz8CqXFtaOuf2vZa/s320/Sweater+Weather+-+SCRAP+RED+GRAINIER+72PX.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246420195841800242" /></a><br />Or rather, it will be me as the Summer continues to wane, the equinoctial point pushes temperatures lower and the moist green drains out of the leaves. I really hate Summer to be quite frank. Spring, tolerable. Winter, slightly more tolerable. Summer, abysmal. But Autumn......Aaaaahhhtumn.<br /><br />It's one of two times a year when the Sun crosses the equator, and the day and night are of equal length. This perfect symmetry makes for one very happy Gemini. At the autumnal equinox, the Sun appears to cross the <span style="font-weight:bold;">celestial</span> equator, which I also find contributory to my giddy frame of mind.<br /><br />Give me cloud cover, pumpkin harvests, migrating birds, knitted things and boots to wear, overly hot and long baths with good books, orange and brown and black.....mmmm, If you'll excuse me I have to go draw a bath and whip up some cinnamon spice cocoa. My copy of <span style="font-style:italic;">Twilight</span> might not survive the Winter - the spine is holding up and at least I haven't dropped it in the tub (yet). The OCD Gemini twin got her way and the third run-through is well under way. Self control be damned; this is <span style="font-weight:bold;">MY</span> time of year.<br /><br>anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-49019633307496498292008-09-10T12:32:00.006-06:002008-09-10T15:39:49.996-06:00Fanatic (noun) 1. Liz Perkins<br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Eki0xN_yGiY1PcL1YKSHSytSspiXIPAvC87a5sVaVh2xBP-5T88GhN_cOESXW7KIIR30kVmPV_aaj_h7c3LCL3Pn-ykR40feZpZKTPeKuiY90lfikxfAyMcDy0JYnIbbrDu_RNxcB9OP/s1600-h/to+read+or+not+to+read.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Eki0xN_yGiY1PcL1YKSHSytSspiXIPAvC87a5sVaVh2xBP-5T88GhN_cOESXW7KIIR30kVmPV_aaj_h7c3LCL3Pn-ykR40feZpZKTPeKuiY90lfikxfAyMcDy0JYnIbbrDu_RNxcB9OP/s320/to+read+or+not+to+read.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244467160390247202" /></a><br /><br />So, um, I just finished reading the complete <span style="font-style:italic;">Twilight</span> series...again. I actually took a full week this time to get through all four books. I'm fighting within my brain very hard right now to keep from starting again...again. Being a Gemini I get into fights with myself all the time. We'll see which side wins this one. It could get ugly.anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9084002778910235706.post-68374598489497446312008-09-01T17:23:00.009-06:002008-09-01T19:14:14.457-06:00Pure Fiction Ecstasy<br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3STJ4VCDkRMVRxCH_F8kQmvLG6lzLH_aIT8cotLpkSL1QYZVHRM_paSHa58ooCjdA9AI6RL61_1pZo7jRwc18pBXo69S8yDybZXcVRdy5S0RkGjvotzo68OCrl2r36yaEAkMzxUIaolck/s1600-h/twilight.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3STJ4VCDkRMVRxCH_F8kQmvLG6lzLH_aIT8cotLpkSL1QYZVHRM_paSHa58ooCjdA9AI6RL61_1pZo7jRwc18pBXo69S8yDybZXcVRdy5S0RkGjvotzo68OCrl2r36yaEAkMzxUIaolck/s320/twilight.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241199815185680434" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqNvifsdcgInlS2uS2_vMvtYyCpBJGzYsAKiyislCqWelo05h-fYkcPPjhJtXReY7-iZ5sKY1UuE2m_RDcHU1y5keaUQHiLBHvs9qKRQVayxtC-h-AxmV9epMCW-o8N_pjtZL59IoyGCOy/s1600-h/new+moon.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqNvifsdcgInlS2uS2_vMvtYyCpBJGzYsAKiyislCqWelo05h-fYkcPPjhJtXReY7-iZ5sKY1UuE2m_RDcHU1y5keaUQHiLBHvs9qKRQVayxtC-h-AxmV9epMCW-o8N_pjtZL59IoyGCOy/s320/new+moon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241199820263867698" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1P_b8-BCpRkx4ciXL39hetzj69wxxz5QrOitym68PkwS7yEMC4r7ERUQf7LTBsfk8mBkBTXD_kvtGCReTrZukflC04oWa6i479hcDIeOZj1XdkWnXIdQgbC-zi-0G8ITumIhSlhX5Q-V2/s1600-h/eclipse.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1P_b8-BCpRkx4ciXL39hetzj69wxxz5QrOitym68PkwS7yEMC4r7ERUQf7LTBsfk8mBkBTXD_kvtGCReTrZukflC04oWa6i479hcDIeOZj1XdkWnXIdQgbC-zi-0G8ITumIhSlhX5Q-V2/s320/eclipse.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241199823474416770" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6ki_Gb_jIPPkC8JpT_D_EVoVs5f1wGrw75Y5WlP9ofok02LBFID6TkcXM-GT6xojWKYpaEO0RTdlnm8G21bLNeltYMx4xcnRFXjXCjZPAO_LRNk_ZvJajQ-oS7jRaDTcBnIDlnqqBtyp/s1600-h/breaking+dawn.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6ki_Gb_jIPPkC8JpT_D_EVoVs5f1wGrw75Y5WlP9ofok02LBFID6TkcXM-GT6xojWKYpaEO0RTdlnm8G21bLNeltYMx4xcnRFXjXCjZPAO_LRNk_ZvJajQ-oS7jRaDTcBnIDlnqqBtyp/s320/breaking+dawn.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241199827260987634" /></a><br /><br />4 books in 4.5 days = 1 immensely satisfied me and 1 lonely husband (sorry Dave)<br /><br />Part of my occasionally falling out of mainstream craziness means that I sometimes am slow to catch up on such gems as the Twilight saga. 1:45 a.m. last night brought me blissfully to its conclusion. Once I had started, I simply couldn't stop. It was like watching a movie in my mind that I was so engrossed with that I could hardly stand to draw my attention away long enough to satisfy such frivolous needs as eating or sleeping. Even the call of nature never stopped my voracious and near maniacal propulsion forward. Sorry about that TMI moment. I devoured each page; consumed them one after the other. I never would have believed that I could breeze through 2,444 of them in just over a hundred hours and afterwards feel as though it only lasted the duration of a single beat of my heart. Even if <span style="font-style:italic;">Midnight Sun</span> never sees the light of day in its entirety, I'll still be forever grateful. Stephenie Meyer, you are a goddess.anselizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03911108106807488358noreply@blogger.com2