tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85007136874750346952024-03-05T20:13:55.786-08:00Equidistantly Happy GirlEquidistantly Happy Girl- Photographic trains (& train-wrecks) of thought, and silly random-ness from a Pacific Northwest girl(transplantd to Cherokee country in Oklahoma), and Mama of two gorgeous girls.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-31980653883549731012013-02-25T17:34:00.001-08:002013-02-25T17:38:30.708-08:00Sickness, More sickness, and tumultuous fever of varying, emotional kinds. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">Where to begin. This entry is a fucking abominable flurry and ache and whirlwind of so much... crap. Maybe not crap... morality. Morality crap. Emotional crap. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />First off, day four of being sick. The flu. Which, when you are not sick, means nothing to you. One doesn't really ever remember how bad being sick feels, until you have that sickness yourself, and are cursing your God (Gods) or personal belief structures, for letting your immune system be maimed in such a way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Let's go back, about... two weeks. I am dating Wichita. Wichita seems to be... half annoyed, and half enamored with me. Not a good start for me, but I find him irresistible, and want so badly to have him see me as.. I don't know what... potential long-term fuck buddy with tones of romantic indulgence and acceptance. .</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I do like the boy, probably too much. So, I am trying to just, pull myself into myself, and pretend I have a cocoon made of silk, sickness, brine, and seashells. It's hard when you kinda know that... you're just what's up until something better comes along. He doesn't do anything that makes me feel like crap. But come on, I'm an emotional wreck, a roller coaster, and what would I expect for him to do... stick around? Yeah. Right. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wichita is in... Wichita right now. On vacation. And all I can think is, no amount of anything I ever give him, will ever be enough for how cool he is. Makes me feel like a Sonic Youth song lol. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe I am just totally miserable today. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Two years ago almost to the day, I quit heroin. I was dopesick then, and now today just regular sick. And no shot at the end of this brown rainbow. Meh, just as well. I don't want that crap anymore, anyhow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Let's see, what else. Been on a blur of novel-reading lately. Which, is a good thing, and a bad thing. As SOON as I am done with one, I hurriedly put on another one. It's like I can't have a breath in between them, or it lets me think, and my mind will reel. I would add my list of what I have read, but maybe later. I can't decide if that would just make me seem like I'm trying to fucking.. show off or some such shite. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well my fever is only 101 now. Going to curl up in the bottom of a steaming hot shower and shove everything back down. Screw the cork back in. Tighter this time. Shovel everything in heaps back down. And put the cheery smile back on my face. Back to work tomorrow. Back to swallowing words upon words and chapter upon chapter, and plan for Wichita's birthday. I want it to be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Perfect. Maybe it distracts from who is throwing the party. And maybe I feel that that will help. But it also is sincere. Cause I met a boy who deserves the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'll just take everything... less serious. Realize the implications and how this isn't a forever-thing, and roll with it. As hard as it is for us Cancers. </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-47455043608013190962012-11-28T19:56:00.000-08:002012-11-28T20:04:23.252-08:00Subdued a long way from the Excitement<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Horse that stands on the site of the Buffalo, Holly Street, Bellingham WA</td></tr>
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These days, I overdo it by going out approx. once a month, by my lonesome, to some dive karaoke bar. All it takes is having precisely three drinks and a sip or two from someone else's, and I am done for, regretting the trip out and cursing myself and I find myself wondering why I didn't just stay home and sing in the shower.<br />
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Some part of myself tries to convince me that I can be 17 still at times. I wrestle with my current age on Saturday nights. Apart from that I am completely fine with it.<br />
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I wonder at what point, does longing for and missing your home become insanity, or just a sign of unbalance. I talk to a couple people- implants to Tulsa you might say, like myself, that ... like it here. It mustn't be normal for one to so apply themselves mentally to a city/place. No one really knows the depth upon which I sit and force myself to envision Bellingham so that I almost become... "there". Faux-astral-projection, if you will.<br />
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At work,-in my "sensory dep chamber" as I like to call it (I wear headphones, safety glasses, thick gloves, and have loud noises around me and don't talk, so the dull and low hum of the machinery around me becomes lulling and drowns out everything, becoming white noise, eventually leading to almost complete "silence", within myself. There, I move up up and out. Mentally cross the 2316 miles between here and there. Envisioning the blessed North Cascades, jutting peaking and then sloping around Whatcom County- it's winter coat. I can see Lost Lake, Fragrance Lake Trail, Alger Mountain, the Oyster dome and it's singular beauty. Float closer, through Fairhaven, (no stops, they never liked a pink-haired girl much anyhow), down the hill, down to those streets I walked so many times, in so many different moods.<br />
Happy, jubilant, strung out, miserable, beaten, wistful, nostalgic, hopeful, desperate. The cracks in the pavement of North Forest, State Street, they know the soles of my shoes. They know the arch of my feet. They know it's the only place I'll get off my lazy ass and take a walk "just because". It's almost like I <i>won't </i>walk here in Tulsa out of some strange undecided silent protest.<br />
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I love winding myself walking up the hills, dreaming of cooking huge meals for all of my friends, their friends, their children in the big old-time kitchens of yore, that peek out of beautiful heavy curtains and drapes as I walk by them. Art seems to hug every wall and every corner in the streets and homes of the people in Bellingham. I remember a painting that hung in a friend's house of mine, I can't remember whose exactly. It was a whimsical mermaid, with turquoise hair that hung over the fireplace, if I recall correctly. My friend's grandmother was the one that painted it.<br />
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I mentally explore all of the alleys I ever tumbled down, skipped down, even shot up in, on the darker days. Every little piece of graffiti, every little rock and stray flower. Even dumpsters- I was fond of sitting on or in dumpsters in my youth, I have no reason to know why, but I did.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting drinking a local beer in the store that was once BLUE MOON VINTAGE CLOTHING </td></tr>
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Every lettered-street, every driveway from the Fountain district up to Sehome and York district, over to Whatcom Falls, even slummin' it in the Alabama Hill and Roosevelt district at times. And catch me in a sunny enough mood, well hell, maybe I would make the venture to be out and about in Happy Valley and Fairhaven.<br />
<br />
I have never found time to whine about anything in Bellingham. Only to be away from it. Far be it a curse to "have to return" to that wonderful wonderful city. Jewel of the Pacific Northwest. My Don Juan-de-Fuca.<br />
Any place is magical that's indigenous trees are the same that once a year people dress up and worship for a holiday.<br />
<br />
Red House. Yellow House. Green House. Blue House= Up where Holly and Ellis meet at the beginning of Lakeway. Where you can always find VHS pornos in the ditch= either behind the Aloha Motel on Samish, or, well, I guess down behind the Cornwall Corner store, too. BIGGEST bag of groceries you ever did see= BGO. Plus there, you can see anti-abortion picketers (clearly Lyndenites) across the road from spanging junkies, otherwise known as my good friends.<br />
<br />
I always seemed to float above opinion or curve around it when alas, and I was, the heroin queen-bee whore of the Ham. Somehow, I was watching. Yes oh yes, I <i>was </i>watching and I didn't miss a single beautiful beat that that city threw me. I found endless glory and awe even strung out. Down and out. Not that I ever would wanna go back, of course not. I'm just saying- I didn't stop loving people, the people there especially, they could call me all sortsa names- I just wanted to hug them and tell them we shared the same mystical Bellingham sky and it's ocean air, and if we were buried up in Bayview Cemetery, well who knows one day we could be crumbling back into the beautiful dirt that once was the beginning of Woburn street?<br />
Every stranger I met there didn't stay one for long. And I dug them all.<br />
<br />
I get to go back for 11 days, in 138 days. And I can't wait.<br />
<br />
I love you, Bellingham. I will not stop writing about you. Or visiting you, mentally or otherwise.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Horse standing on what used to be the Guide Meridian (now Old Guide)<br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-59921435914848372702012-10-06T21:54:00.001-07:002012-10-06T21:58:44.967-07:00Desire so strong it fuels folklore<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I got to talk to him. Yeah, HIM. <i>Hiiiiiim. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
The one. The only. Told me he is, still, always has been, always will be a "Jenna fan". Oh those fucking dark days, man. He held my hair back, he held my hands down, he held my chin up.<br />
<br />
It maybe somewhat horrible of me, but I will say it anyways. A mere month ago, my boy left me. Hightailed it back home. Seven fast and furious intense months, talk of marriage, child-rearin and the whole bit.<br />
<br />
And just four weeks shy of total abandonment, my thoughts at work when I am in my "sensory-deprivation chamber" as I like to call it- I wear a mask, headphones, work alone and with gloves so I really am off in my own world, four weeks and I am immersed in thoughts of those beautiful fucking cold, sharp Pacific NW days, and my love that I have never experience til then, nor after. I often think that the tattoo on my chest of a "sagrado corazon" represents more than a holy reference- my heart forever burns for a legend. A Chupacabra. A bloodsucker only by rumor.<br />
<br />
And I heard it through the wire tonight. I heard that all familiar voice. Twice he said "I love you" and it hit me like I was in a ring and was hit with a combination of nausea (in a good way) and pubescent admiration. How will I ever love anyone as much? I don't think I will. He told me to "try lovin' a Chupa" come springtime.<br />
<br />
No thought will reoccur in my head now, other than being his girl, even for a week, in that "humble" abode of his, listening to the familiar sounds of his snore, the hum of the fishtank at night, the random and seldom car rumble by on a cemetery-laden road off in that tiny Washington State town that just barely rubs elbows with Bellingham. To be in his presence is to know truest love. To be in his presence makes it known that if astrology ever mattered, Cancers reign supreme and he is king of Crab.<br />
<br />
Oh baby, how every mile between us feels like a fucking million. How your voice rockets me back home. Back to painted headboards, Absinthe and ecstasy (pill form and not), flying across state for shows (thanks babe, I woulda never seen TOOL if it weren't for you) and many beers, sticks of gum, and hot showers.<br />
<br />
You are the best. You are the one that makes everyone else obsolete no matter how much time or distance passes between us. Tonight felt like it had been two days since we last spoke, and not a year.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-61183107111271968012012-09-17T19:51:00.000-07:002012-09-17T19:51:48.265-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
I awoke this morning. 5:27 AM. Let the alarm go back to sleep this morning. Don't worry about it little buddy. I'm up .<br />
<br />
The last time that I was up that early, to start a first day of work so early, (with my legs goose-bumped and a wonderful chill coming in through the window whispering the first promises of autumn) was at least three, no four years ago. And try as I might sometimes, I cannot remember things. I will try. Good or bad, I just can't remember things. But others, it's like nothing could hold off the memories and scents and flashbacks if I tried.<br />
<br />
This morning was the latter. I awake and it was... four years back.......<br />
<br />
My ringtone was Yellow Ledbetter, my children were in diapers, Chupa was mine and mine alone to love, I worked in drafty wet and cold docks and warehouse temp jobs, ate off foodstamps, lived on a street named after only a letter in the alphabet, I sought shelter in the beautiful abode of my wonderful friends in Custer, and treated my Rhi Rhi and Ghi Ghi (my live-in friends/babysitters like shit without knowing I was doing it). I was a black pit. I gave a bit, I did. But I took far more. I did love them. All of them. The lot of them... true love.<br />
<br />
I could smell formula this morning. I could smell evergreens. I could smell unwashed clothing. Salty hair. I could smell the logs burning in the Stabbin' Cabin down in Birch Bay and the Pacific Ocean even with the snow falling in December.<br />
<br />
This morning, remembering these things, I felt ashamed and proud. I didn't want to be there, I don't want to go back, but I miss it. How that is possible I have no idea. But there it is.<br />
<br />
Working early, monotonous labor, with that chill in the air, makes me feel alive. Reborn. Worth, something. Makes me feel complete when I return home.<br />
<br />
What a long ways I have come, how small it seems some days. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-34888967654565706022012-09-15T19:18:00.001-07:002012-09-15T19:18:29.101-07:00And my tears run dry..... <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It started with a comment about how I could probably throw a really mean punch.<br />
<br />
Then one day I gave 'im one. And he didn't seem to think it was pretty anymore. My knuckles and hands and... well, general existence.<br />
<br />
He left me. Those three words have played in my head in every form possible over and over again. He. Him. Boy. Beloved. Gone. Left. Away. Disappeared. Me. I. Broken-hearted. Moi. Alone. Stranded.<br />
<br />
Set aside. Tossed aside. Wondering what happened .<br />
<br />
My mother told me that prior to his unexpected leaving, he told her of his plans. And she even told him; you can't just, leave somebody, when they are not doing well, and then come back. That will destroy her and she will hate you for it. He was okay with that.<br />
<br />
I <i>am </i>horrible in a relationship capacity I guess. I really truly am. I am a slutbag, I am a drug addict, granted- over a year clean now, but yes, I am not Suzie Homemaker that's for sure. But man, did I try. And I loved him truly and so deeply.<br />
<br />
Now this morning I wake up and am just livid. If you love someone, you stay. If you care, you stay. You don't leave, you don't tell them it's the amicable way to desert them, when they promise to strive to do better. And I really would have. I would have given it my fucking all.<br />
<br />
<br />
I guess, I am better off without someone in my life that was so quick to leave me anyhow. Right? Right?<br />
<br />
I at the moment, cannot listen to Chris Cornell, Pearl Jam leaves me misty eyed, I hate that Little Caesars commercial- the one we both laughed at so hard, I hate that the Food Network featured so many damn things to do about Dickson Street in frickin' Fayetteville AR today, I can't put on anything sexy, I don't want to smell Blue Moon beer.<br />
<br />
It's taken me thirteen times to try and write this meaningless dribble.<br />
<br />
What I can't even fathom, is that he kept screaming and crying that he loved me, as he walked out the door, and wouldn't reply to my emails begging for communication.<br />
<br />
Now who feels stupid. Yep. You can point, I'll forgive it this time. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-74887627327040492922012-05-29T21:47:00.000-07:002012-05-29T21:55:56.698-07:00Silence is golden, and confusing as hell but reveries from the 90s will make it all go away<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I guess being such an extrovert, and such a very very loud, passionate one at that, is that it takes every fiber in my being to understand introverted, quiet people. I can be ranting and raving and screaming about something- in a good or bad way, and expect the same reaction. From everyone. <br />
<br />
Highly unrealistic, a little arrogant, and extremely hard to control. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5YAzNCX1MJRK8WxiMbfM9JQPrwBL3YuuCfwtbruWgT0eWv8xPweMpB1BsL6ytCUCj75fv_HSa-wnIGemiRZgTGS1Mw5UEzkbvIkK0uX2VCqwCCGJjfdfla1l-5xe7uJlpakoS-Cf6fjA0/s1600/interrupting+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5YAzNCX1MJRK8WxiMbfM9JQPrwBL3YuuCfwtbruWgT0eWv8xPweMpB1BsL6ytCUCj75fv_HSa-wnIGemiRZgTGS1Mw5UEzkbvIkK0uX2VCqwCCGJjfdfla1l-5xe7uJlpakoS-Cf6fjA0/s400/interrupting+2.jpg" width="400" /></a>I just finally at almost 27 started really trying to <em>listen </em>and not just wait for my turn to speak. And not out of a selfish, I-care-not-what-you-have-to-say, but my excitement outdoes my patience, my mouth is ruled by the first mentioned, and I am so glad I am finally slowing down, and really absorbing and listening with patience and full attention. <br />
<br />
But I still find it very hard to not see a huge explosive reaction from others regarding things I feel warrant one. Silly girl, I am. This shall be my next goal. <br />
<br />
Or when I get very excited, and then the person I am telling this to, isn't very reactionary, but then later goes off with much enthusiasm about something else, well I just did that to them, so I guess it should even out. Instead I feel cheated. I shall work on this. Maybe if I just read these wise words a few times... <a href="http://heatherchristenaschmidt.com/2011/10/26/the-five-types-of-interruptors/">http://heatherchristenaschmidt.com/2011/10/26/the-five-types-of-interruptors/</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgor9eFVGpFKVM-vD0blEjUqO3Q6oNLQVCChj4VaLSOtZWHRfrlXp7ogcSYt82ZcZH6dW-UqS2i_y1E-Lz-MpzLa03S1U8VIEolvcpn0P83gHSH-VR9EY2rTlrp0myKFVjtVS_fYzvsBzF7/s1600/tool1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgor9eFVGpFKVM-vD0blEjUqO3Q6oNLQVCChj4VaLSOtZWHRfrlXp7ogcSYt82ZcZH6dW-UqS2i_y1E-Lz-MpzLa03S1U8VIEolvcpn0P83gHSH-VR9EY2rTlrp0myKFVjtVS_fYzvsBzF7/s320/tool1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I cannot believe how pubescent and angsty I feel while delving back deep down into my music "past" and finally throw on some TOOL. Yes, yes, love them or hate them, it matters not to moi, as I am a hardcore fan, alas, and henceforth, I spell their band name, in all capitals. Every time. Even when no one is looking. Or I write a message in a bottle containing a note reading something along the lines of "Help! Stranded on desert island! If you cannot make it, but can somehow reach food or TOOLs to me, I would be much appreciative!" <br />
<br />
It just transports me. I see it as a soft, dark, brooding waltz of memories swallowed and/or tossed and jostled upon waves of memories. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkgGPUMH6yGp-ST7dEHgtD4DQ_VRLXBYfGmztmjB2LyyxfMchakopGkji1hYdrHlKElyT2a6biQhbVQKBx-Rmcxi8jg8mdHWJxtpJ-05rOrG6olyOLZrcGZSWVNdHhhWGx403RhqublWoY/s1600/TOOL3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkgGPUMH6yGp-ST7dEHgtD4DQ_VRLXBYfGmztmjB2LyyxfMchakopGkji1hYdrHlKElyT2a6biQhbVQKBx-Rmcxi8jg8mdHWJxtpJ-05rOrG6olyOLZrcGZSWVNdHhhWGx403RhqublWoY/s400/TOOL3.jpg" width="306" /></a>I remember the first time I was ever given any TOOL to listen to. I was approx. 16, and behind a dumpster at a Burger King, walking home. And when I first heard "The Grudge" kick on, I slumped against it, planted my feet firmly against the rain-battered pavement and slouched til my knees were a rest for my forehead. I pulled up my hood and didn't move until the last note of the album was done. Yes, I <em>am </em>aging myself, it <em>was </em>a <u>Discman </u>I was listening to this life-changing music on. *giggles* Oh those were the times, I must say. And now, I must say, all those years- these years (?) later, I indulge in my most favourite music and find the tears coming, oh yes, you fucking drama queen, and wallow in all of my mystic emotional soup. Some music doesn't just stimulate your sense of hearing, it can't help but overstimulate all of you. Why always always always am I transported via "Spirit-Expressway" to the Pacific Northwest. Why not.. Spain? Why not India? Why not New Zealand? No no, when I close my eyes and surf on the tidal wave that is 5/7 timing signatures, and the Fibonacci sequence of numbers, it is to that vast Evergreen-blanketed land. The smells come back to me in full strength. I am reminded of what the Bagelry smells like at 6am on a Monday morning in the month of March, even turning the sharp winds of winter to breathe in and take a break, read the paper, enjoy a cup of coffee and an assiago cheese bagel from the place emitting all this amazing aroma. I remember "Number 9s", which consisted of driving in DB's Tiburon with of course CC/MA down the Lost-Highway-esque nighttime, dark roads, telephone poles "dotting immensities" (which reminds me, to below show off my talent for memorizing Kerouac, "Mad Road Driving" which I memorized at the not-so-tender age of 17, maybe 16. Those years are blurred) doing at least a buck-ten, dazed and confused, young and abused, in the company of a wise old alley cat disguised as an aging neo-hippie- extraordinaire, (he often would wink his third eye at me, leaving me all a fluster) and blaring whichever "Number 9" was on that moment's cd. Ce De, en Francais. They were mostly, ah, you guessed it, you trickster you, you clairvoyant, TOOL. </div>
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I remember the soundtrack to life in the subdued/exciting "oyster dome" of free-spirited youth. Had undertones of extreme personal danger, as The Dr. of Gonzo Journalism himself once wrote. </div>
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Ah yes, Mad Road Driving. With no further adieu; </div>
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<em>Mad road driving, men ahead</em></div>
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<em>The Mad Road, lonely, leading around the bend into the openings of space towards the horizon Wasatch snows promised us in the vision of the West...<br /><br />Spine heights at the world's end, coast of blue Pacific starry night - no bone half-banana moons sloping in it's angled night sky, the torments of great formations in mist, the huddled invisible insect in the car racing onwards... Illuminate.<br /><br />The raw cut, the drag, the butte, the star, the draw, the sunflower in the grass...<br /><br />Orange-butted waste lands of Arcadia, forlorn sands of the isolate earth, dewy exposures to infinity in wide space, home of the rattlesnake and the gopher - the level of the world, low and flat...<br /><br />The charging restless mute unvoiced road keening in a seizure of tarpaulin power into the route, fabulous plots of landowners in green unexpecteds, ditches by the side of the road... as I look from here to Elko along the level of this pin parallel to telephone poles I can see a bug playing in the hot sun...<br /><br />Hitch yourself a ride beyond the fastest freight train:<br />Beat the Smoke...<br />Find the Thigh...<br />Spend the Shiny...<br />Throw the Shroud...<br />Kiss the morning star in the morning glass...<br /><br />Mad Road Driving Men Ahead.<br /><br />Pencil traceries of our faintest wish in the travel of the horizon merged, nosey cloud obelisks in a dribble of speechless distance, the black sheep clouds cling a parallel above the streams of C B Q - serried Little Missouri rocks haunt the badlands, harsh dry brown fields roll in the moonlight - with a shiny cow's ass. Telephone poles. Toothpick time. Dotting immensities. <br />The crazed voyageur of the lone automobile presses forth his eager insignificance in noseplates and licenses into the vast promise of life - the choice of tragic wives.<br /><br />Drain your basins in old Ohio and the Indian and the lllini plains...<br /><br />Bring your big muddy rivers through Kansas and the mudlands, Yellowstone in the frozen North...<br /><br />Punch lake holes in Florida and L A...<br /><br />Raise your cities in the white plain...<br /><br />Cast your mountains up... bedawze the west... bedight the west with brave hedgerow cliffs rising to Promethean heights and fame...<br /><br />Plant your prisons in the basin of the Utah moon...<br /><br />Nudge Canadian groping lands that end in arctic bays...<br /><br />Curl your Mexican ribneck, America...<br /><br />...I'm going home. ...going home.</em></div>
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<em>- Jack Kerouac</em></div>
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ps, your random pics of the day. Be forewarned, I have unleashed an undesignated huge quantities tonight for that is what kind of mood I am in. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kerouac in his calm-on-the-surface, neon glory</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18qdUdjWlC_xkB5VlVWA4bKZb7ik0YYd_ZZX0GHMVjfgkOL34rmtan7903jipkDAa13k0uv6AnLcE_cDWAe3szQu9beYXDycppv_fpT96QRKbbOd8DKw2a_ncl2RJQpz5M2DBLOsT77vx/s1600/Vancouver+in+Fog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj18qdUdjWlC_xkB5VlVWA4bKZb7ik0YYd_ZZX0GHMVjfgkOL34rmtan7903jipkDAa13k0uv6AnLcE_cDWAe3szQu9beYXDycppv_fpT96QRKbbOd8DKw2a_ncl2RJQpz5M2DBLOsT77vx/s640/Vancouver+in+Fog.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vancouver in Fog</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2MyQnEbN01gg3YczKnLGk_aeRWhma67YLxTdlMJM11LN2JzkdoxrlcbH6RxsjQ2ABeLZm41pFy3ts3M8dFt89viwmhrs-vRvjr8U7Fs43TZAGwmcI-4u7M4R8ThzmdcC5owBokxPdq9eC/s1600/il_570xN_197665149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2MyQnEbN01gg3YczKnLGk_aeRWhma67YLxTdlMJM11LN2JzkdoxrlcbH6RxsjQ2ABeLZm41pFy3ts3M8dFt89viwmhrs-vRvjr8U7Fs43TZAGwmcI-4u7M4R8ThzmdcC5owBokxPdq9eC/s640/il_570xN_197665149.jpg" width="510" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beirut Gig Poster</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlsc1DwQxkCA-hBzRNgT83ugyB1LT70Ldx20fxQKSFtpPks-_IhFqquTEMbbj9YigHRgKk3nMSPi5I2kMP9-kskxTggYv9kDMIuatDRXZuWSwwtVBtLtRy44r__LNaNy7esrouZDBbmyqq/s1600/skulll+crown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlsc1DwQxkCA-hBzRNgT83ugyB1LT70Ldx20fxQKSFtpPks-_IhFqquTEMbbj9YigHRgKk3nMSPi5I2kMP9-kskxTggYv9kDMIuatDRXZuWSwwtVBtLtRy44r__LNaNy7esrouZDBbmyqq/s640/skulll+crown.jpg" width="472" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deceased Royal of the Kingdom of Allthingspretty</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjstXDJDnnxEkHSgBZSevUA1hdnO-Ddt4-4kEslsm2D96kaPEHbvnH1tTWxzq9i7hjjfgtcFCIy3IxCHvAtTKL1TZxxVJ1N-gAqU1GXfz7hKcZXp2BDqxbPjByI_2lIznLj6s8SA4K6s32l/s1600/Nogales.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjstXDJDnnxEkHSgBZSevUA1hdnO-Ddt4-4kEslsm2D96kaPEHbvnH1tTWxzq9i7hjjfgtcFCIy3IxCHvAtTKL1TZxxVJ1N-gAqU1GXfz7hKcZXp2BDqxbPjByI_2lIznLj6s8SA4K6s32l/s640/Nogales.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nogales, MX. A place I inhabited for a brief, drug induced time</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzByeg11JT3rBA3F7eV72JTbTnmm3QqFqaeMEhbqW0LBN29IQg8UJcfLYmY3RJzk9MqRUVtH11L4aojXBrh4uMuuhZJtfjYw6VFv30gMUG2MRxzmGShqnGRu3scQRYQ6KAJX4s9Zxddb3/s1600/Chuckanut+Drive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzByeg11JT3rBA3F7eV72JTbTnmm3QqFqaeMEhbqW0LBN29IQg8UJcfLYmY3RJzk9MqRUVtH11L4aojXBrh4uMuuhZJtfjYw6VFv30gMUG2MRxzmGShqnGRu3scQRYQ6KAJX4s9Zxddb3/s640/Chuckanut+Drive.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuckanut Drive, Bellingham WA, Circa. 1914</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_2FCvVxLcT3E7fHNb8J9gPoPiJfQw112f0Ki-YxvLOm9nR3zMX7CEXIcWTZzsRkGd-eKEwT9mELG8r0UwFOJbCvDEx7Hj7gOr6w-ZmUyGXfzCqyfRYdbRsnmqCQ6pWVIvYwAH0lH9raw/s1600/lumberjacks+Bellingham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="411" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_2FCvVxLcT3E7fHNb8J9gPoPiJfQw112f0Ki-YxvLOm9nR3zMX7CEXIcWTZzsRkGd-eKEwT9mELG8r0UwFOJbCvDEx7Hj7gOr6w-ZmUyGXfzCqyfRYdbRsnmqCQ6pWVIvYwAH0lH9raw/s640/lumberjacks+Bellingham.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Strapping young lumberjacks. Bellingham WA, circa. 1913</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvB8PVv-SzAr_N_AqbPvGWvEpyEvPFo_6OrZfdAfas5AZioQH4fS58nGuJoyYOteglWd3RveBG3zQTf5P2s-MPwH0EjVLA1nnGusVfXuC0ObZdZnJ2Y7PSitWaBzwJoxft8wXfgEuWfrxg/s1600/Devi.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvB8PVv-SzAr_N_AqbPvGWvEpyEvPFo_6OrZfdAfas5AZioQH4fS58nGuJoyYOteglWd3RveBG3zQTf5P2s-MPwH0EjVLA1nnGusVfXuC0ObZdZnJ2Y7PSitWaBzwJoxft8wXfgEuWfrxg/s640/Devi.png" width="483" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hindu Goddess Devi</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAwo50uKFpJjISf2O6vOfN5_gmnAELoYMvKALApRiqctq78WoQGQu6DGJCRiZI-K-ftjJOugI3K5fzaryi7wOJuTFyEk2FIGjW2T57Xx7tP0dUoScF7MWo5vyflJZUHfCWktKyqZFTHQ4/s1600/imagesCAC5O45V.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAwo50uKFpJjISf2O6vOfN5_gmnAELoYMvKALApRiqctq78WoQGQu6DGJCRiZI-K-ftjJOugI3K5fzaryi7wOJuTFyEk2FIGjW2T57Xx7tP0dUoScF7MWo5vyflJZUHfCWktKyqZFTHQ4/s400/imagesCAC5O45V.jpg" width="311" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Julie Verhoeven, artist</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3XWIuCf5EIMBd2aMktoOvcFMSy1m_rmxWFdyLcYM8pAH3oPH53QmDQszqUdxXw15HRMWmeh4Xewjrc92rLs9DkGy-c_TCNb9ijLkRpXdgc7l_laahAewPGTqpBUdrx5QOn_1HZAYGqgHE/s1600/imagesCASYILO4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3XWIuCf5EIMBd2aMktoOvcFMSy1m_rmxWFdyLcYM8pAH3oPH53QmDQszqUdxXw15HRMWmeh4Xewjrc92rLs9DkGy-c_TCNb9ijLkRpXdgc7l_laahAewPGTqpBUdrx5QOn_1HZAYGqgHE/s640/imagesCASYILO4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Layla and Billy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljhZ4KwuPsq5NMEoyQC1UGdQe_yWlFLOin218BlOLE7tGL6xny7Vlv2WI8BeK1Lgazw3f1TugZyqCnM2a12m8hhxfQp0zZ4aczmArW-d1bgfADExljI0QCnWAJEHWMSmYP1JH37QRyWLj/s1600/imagesCAJ3V7RG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljhZ4KwuPsq5NMEoyQC1UGdQe_yWlFLOin218BlOLE7tGL6xny7Vlv2WI8BeK1Lgazw3f1TugZyqCnM2a12m8hhxfQp0zZ4aczmArW-d1bgfADExljI0QCnWAJEHWMSmYP1JH37QRyWLj/s640/imagesCAJ3V7RG.jpg" width="429" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Van.Graffiti Artist</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaX2PkAs3gvhC6EaPYRSmQ2XCWT1o53tIbsU1qRM8kJRxmZqs-0w-kNd0gZF2VYBxuxllq5xoApVM8MzdLOSpMdDbmEOTVTLn4Yp8yOV0sdpQmcg9zf81LSfvDLRJZm3Rf9aFlpNMLtp_o/s1600/imagesCASUV0VH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaX2PkAs3gvhC6EaPYRSmQ2XCWT1o53tIbsU1qRM8kJRxmZqs-0w-kNd0gZF2VYBxuxllq5xoApVM8MzdLOSpMdDbmEOTVTLn4Yp8yOV0sdpQmcg9zf81LSfvDLRJZm3Rf9aFlpNMLtp_o/s400/imagesCASUV0VH.jpg" width="396" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morphine Album Cover</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaoRXgB7cX4c0dARyRcP_ddXWP_ojgOT90hhEUqgsP8RtBoFqHC4acJCRUAfS_i1ukf2r_ODbkN7YgHaYy73Jcn39Wq7yIYVrZs7QIqXHxjV5SPUfGoMKlqYhlq5Su5kU1KxJhPdrhegEB/s1600/anatomy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaoRXgB7cX4c0dARyRcP_ddXWP_ojgOT90hhEUqgsP8RtBoFqHC4acJCRUAfS_i1ukf2r_ODbkN7YgHaYy73Jcn39Wq7yIYVrZs7QIqXHxjV5SPUfGoMKlqYhlq5Su5kU1KxJhPdrhegEB/s400/anatomy.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sigh. moving .gifs. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwtv6ktucOYE5DOhoRAHfmpYX2Mz5rDj1uJ8eu6VVa3TmGrqbfqunLFpAbccuhFWqfuJNvJiCcvJeYaTB3qz6Pdx6nIuOng6-AJ0C2NwxPhh5koCpPQH3swu0YomFiD0op5N77VQxIFIwQ/s1600/gettin+older.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwtv6ktucOYE5DOhoRAHfmpYX2Mz5rDj1uJ8eu6VVa3TmGrqbfqunLFpAbccuhFWqfuJNvJiCcvJeYaTB3qz6Pdx6nIuOng6-AJ0C2NwxPhh5koCpPQH3swu0YomFiD0op5N77VQxIFIwQ/s640/gettin+older.gif" width="512" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aging with grace and and a dash of creepiness. </td></tr>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-13012408889754921732012-05-25T19:07:00.002-07:002012-05-25T19:11:36.444-07:00Tangerine-tinted-haired-spirit guide, and her dapper old chap; Tom<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmSb-xOqZ6fL30E2z0rhp3x0bC3t_yGLI0im-y4DGiPjKBSAv-iOvGNGnebKpcvsbzT7klt8ihxmxouHBSvP5iIsZhVqBF_lurALZWsCrjpx6uavFBarTtIOxoFCpiyNrzdxN67XkOLK2/s320/spirit+guide+2.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or Joe. Maybe his name was Joe. And it started with a "B". Oh so should I start farther back... okay indeedy I will. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Guided meditation. Take it or leave it, if you will, it might <em>actually not </em>be for you. But for me, yes it is. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was walking past the typical fuckin hippie-esque meadow out to this huge beautiful tree. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I sat beneath it, planting myself and all my energy as deep as it's roots. I called for my Spirit Guide. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmSb-xOqZ6fL30E2z0rhp3x0bC3t_yGLI0im-y4DGiPjKBSAv-iOvGNGnebKpcvsbzT7klt8ihxmxouHBSvP5iIsZhVqBF_lurALZWsCrjpx6uavFBarTtIOxoFCpiyNrzdxN67XkOLK2/s1600/spirit+guide+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She came, as she does, silent and whimsical. Darkly tanned and dirt-streaked. Her lips are always a bit chapped. Puffy. Desirable. I'm not gonna mince words- my spirit guide..... is really hot lol. This time, she had a young man, a Victorian-moustachio'd man, in his fine apparel, his skin even looked Daggeurotype. In some ways. She had him by the hand. She either glances down or burns into you with piercing emerald eyes. Well the iris's blend from the colour of depression-era jadeite to the rolling hills of Darjeeling. </span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKn03cZG4cJVoao6OT3LBLvABjv3imsgWDbGIEY9hpQBoNIr5Sx6CfGcCDrhkMeDjq0a2x7QyvK4fjylsqsQCe2AytGUzymxoL_8gM8mZ4eULhlK9XkdaIRUOlrTA73KmygSOO0kHEprEt/s1600/spirit+guide4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKn03cZG4cJVoao6OT3LBLvABjv3imsgWDbGIEY9hpQBoNIr5Sx6CfGcCDrhkMeDjq0a2x7QyvK4fjylsqsQCe2AytGUzymxoL_8gM8mZ4eULhlK9XkdaIRUOlrTA73KmygSOO0kHEprEt/s400/spirit+guide4.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I fancy Victorian Spirit Guides with fine moustaches</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They told me without speaking that they had a gift for me. I couldn't understand all what was going on. I have it reduced to this: In a past life, I was either him, her, or both, at different times. I don't know why she is dressed like an Apache, and yet has the hair of Milla Jovovich from The Fifth Element. Not very congruent time periods, or so I am led to believe. In the spirit world, they are lovers. They gave me a sapling of a tree, told me the one I was sitting against was to show me that I had planted one in years past. It was now big and providing shelter and shade. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwidtq1c8KySscFFb78jknsTF-7dYiVH1ewCwTO1ufMlUgTs8HIOUm5TmKkOGi7oMMD2tvfYwzyZPgrLDGNQFGhJ8_wswNi01bStfOR9OQVsMMsdta_jYp2Bwl65HEB8VcaxR_isj1wfz/s1600/spirit+guide3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We planted it, he told me through his mind what his name was. Tom Brendan. Brandon. Brachton. Something. And I heard Joseph. So maybe a middle name. They were really cute together in some sideshow-at-Coney-Island-circa-1912 kinda way. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwidtq1c8KySscFFb78jknsTF-7dYiVH1ewCwTO1ufMlUgTs8HIOUm5TmKkOGi7oMMD2tvfYwzyZPgrLDGNQFGhJ8_wswNi01bStfOR9OQVsMMsdta_jYp2Bwl65HEB8VcaxR_isj1wfz/s1600/spirit+guide3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwidtq1c8KySscFFb78jknsTF-7dYiVH1ewCwTO1ufMlUgTs8HIOUm5TmKkOGi7oMMD2tvfYwzyZPgrLDGNQFGhJ8_wswNi01bStfOR9OQVsMMsdta_jYp2Bwl65HEB8VcaxR_isj1wfz/s1600/spirit+guide3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlotte Free=My spirit guide's face</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I planted the sapling, I was told that love needs much work and tending to, to grow. You can't sit back and expect it to do everything for you. And that I will need to consider it near-sacred, trust in Him, but also sow love and relationships like a garden, never feeling cheated or let down if I didn't tend to it and it died on me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I will take this knowledge with me. Thanks uber sexy spirit Guides. You rock my jar of molasses with a big ol' soup spoon.</span><br />
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In other news: I have a boy that would make creme brulee cry out of pure jealousy of his sweetness, and a face any boy would want to resemble. And a heart that not just a mere Tin-Man would covet. Just, FYI. <br />
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<strong>Here are my random pics of the day</strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMN8J86nMIjLZKLDByGm-sUx_i3GINv3x-P7qrz-Nq-iE-BY9mpvBwlZ2X0x2ZcMu5ApDQfJhgKZuvF-caqkViOEME07dO2TY88oWD3mtgaTACvy95nKmw6R4tH7ahInHrpGcEYiNZV0Y/s1600/trashy3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMN8J86nMIjLZKLDByGm-sUx_i3GINv3x-P7qrz-Nq-iE-BY9mpvBwlZ2X0x2ZcMu5ApDQfJhgKZuvF-caqkViOEME07dO2TY88oWD3mtgaTACvy95nKmw6R4tH7ahInHrpGcEYiNZV0Y/s640/trashy3.png" width="432" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">trashy mctrasherson. I love trashy lookin girls. I do. I do. Especially in 90s floral print body suits. Meow. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-nl2Ns8mFIe0-rnc0hTaD3kqlxdiOtipcCUvv-30orOEbn98hBv80JzTYC1R_MBVZmkSWkNxjhiAp3Oj-TEdcWjrafDRV2gbaj2xlNsbQsgEbg_QWludLMEUw54hdfBoYtR2s5kZfVxr/s1600/224405993902688469_hwllQE45_f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-nl2Ns8mFIe0-rnc0hTaD3kqlxdiOtipcCUvv-30orOEbn98hBv80JzTYC1R_MBVZmkSWkNxjhiAp3Oj-TEdcWjrafDRV2gbaj2xlNsbQsgEbg_QWludLMEUw54hdfBoYtR2s5kZfVxr/s640/224405993902688469_hwllQE45_f.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, do curtsy in your amazing, heightened ensemble</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLywPSiKZ-LVOMySxDvU4TWYf-NXylvNbfMCCv1Wz5w6wR10imUbIPmatPy7WzJH9MbXzH2n_m3dAfqovZkKI9piIdm9QM8jboWIkLd_LeU8gfWFmnl1CUZ-81kQNa15qMaTCGooWpQHd/s1600/grungehair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLywPSiKZ-LVOMySxDvU4TWYf-NXylvNbfMCCv1Wz5w6wR10imUbIPmatPy7WzJH9MbXzH2n_m3dAfqovZkKI9piIdm9QM8jboWIkLd_LeU8gfWFmnl1CUZ-81kQNa15qMaTCGooWpQHd/s640/grungehair.jpg" width="535" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the prettiest faces I have ever come across. I am amazed at this face. I marvel. *Marvels*</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPZIPlqWStsvfFH3XWojLb3Dsb-xX7NWGd58U43qeFoUzO4xWFDrSz1I4FAsoo6OZwzvZmg88u05D4XQPTkLMZb7CYjVApsh3n7UR0IBVimhPYc_QW5-dNfRwXRiPv0Smnr7odXFiEySft/s1600/0722111246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPZIPlqWStsvfFH3XWojLb3Dsb-xX7NWGd58U43qeFoUzO4xWFDrSz1I4FAsoo6OZwzvZmg88u05D4XQPTkLMZb7CYjVApsh3n7UR0IBVimhPYc_QW5-dNfRwXRiPv0Smnr7odXFiEySft/s640/0722111246.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture I took at Catholic Church downtown Tulsa. Beautiful. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVjJRZG8gsqlCtbqC0Z5TYuMFO4wby72OvT6hMGMTtSTMUpv9Gvlm5Fd2dmiQ9-fPrPyXVLSy4MIQCpKKj1M9DDqzTg1XxSKYsmLRegKRDq8_kecuALVzSEdSrLQCbMbHbe-o3bOVJxD4I/s1600/best.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVjJRZG8gsqlCtbqC0Z5TYuMFO4wby72OvT6hMGMTtSTMUpv9Gvlm5Fd2dmiQ9-fPrPyXVLSy4MIQCpKKj1M9DDqzTg1XxSKYsmLRegKRDq8_kecuALVzSEdSrLQCbMbHbe-o3bOVJxD4I/s640/best.jpg" width="554" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pop Quiz; What is wrong with this picture? A: If you said nothing, you are correct!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoT9VaYTG1A2cdp27k1L_lg3VF33frkY_u6h5x4H2W90ltJci60ItiZ1IZl9T1w0rFUuaZYRH-elBLqz2jGQU5y1xPqsidJE34FviIqOIgeLWtVCq_ED7nFw367D2y53z6NTxg8Svqm1BT/s1600/reedrader_13.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoT9VaYTG1A2cdp27k1L_lg3VF33frkY_u6h5x4H2W90ltJci60ItiZ1IZl9T1w0rFUuaZYRH-elBLqz2jGQU5y1xPqsidJE34FviIqOIgeLWtVCq_ED7nFw367D2y53z6NTxg8Svqm1BT/s640/reedrader_13.gif" width="502" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moving .Gifs. I collect 'em. I will never run out. I assure you. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgTKTSt4bs5ZBUbka2J8SowvyOWhwj4YAN7_8GlMLpv9Y_fj6B7BJQsINbeJo__TlzLG_kku-1h9wLLIVFMKen5umL1XNA2cX4_WK-Bx8FcxsVeST0y7bl4rGueK9t7HsZTQWsodk3ZWmW/s1600/tumblr_l6fswq4FiJ1qz6fxjo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgTKTSt4bs5ZBUbka2J8SowvyOWhwj4YAN7_8GlMLpv9Y_fj6B7BJQsINbeJo__TlzLG_kku-1h9wLLIVFMKen5umL1XNA2cX4_WK-Bx8FcxsVeST0y7bl4rGueK9t7HsZTQWsodk3ZWmW/s640/tumblr_l6fswq4FiJ1qz6fxjo1_500.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I need this framed on my wall. I really do.<br />
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-46856419157842556622012-05-24T16:37:00.000-07:002012-05-24T16:41:29.598-07:00Bless your heart<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A southern-ism I used to not be able to stand, which has really come to grow on me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Bless your heart, child" a middle-aged or elderly woman will tell me, when I am sunburnt and checking out at the grocery store. "I was outside all day at my kid's end-of-school celebration. I got too much sun". "Well just bless your heart" she will say. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I used to not be able to stand anything here in Oklahoma. But I am trying to find new ways to see it in new light. And what could be nicer than to actually bless someone's very important aortic chambers. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My current list of things I love and hate about Oklahoma:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Love: People here really care about family, and their kids. And are super involved in school and such. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hate: The allergy season</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Love: Downtown Tulsa. Has a lot of neat things</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hate: The conservative, old-school outlook on Gay Marriage, abortion, politics, etc. Try moving from the LIBERAL Pacific Northwest, to the Bible Belt. It'll throw you for a loop</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Love: The amount of restaurants they have here</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hate: The utter lack in relation to restaurants of grocery stores, or rather, health-food stores. Or anywhere with good produce and a good Thai or Greek section. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Love: The lakes. People are all about their lakes here. And Lake Tenkiller is really something amazing</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hate: The lack of interest in art and/or music. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Well, I have decided in other news, to start posting some of the vast library of pictures I have in my little laptop, no theme or rhyme or reason to them, just because I have so many and they are pretty and no one ever gets to see them. </span><br />
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<u><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My random pictures for the day:</span></u><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYiT_F9-a2TjAEWdQ8yWVCm3SY7sJQy1rVH_SpbPZItGLBP9FxDC_PglocIdPgQaQGeqIcWobDbU1Y4XunalXuq7iynkCziXNWDSBz98mrXu0lsYaHSP8RhtxkE7kKakG5gJEjsVxKFWqL/s1600/Irma-Weij8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYiT_F9-a2TjAEWdQ8yWVCm3SY7sJQy1rVH_SpbPZItGLBP9FxDC_PglocIdPgQaQGeqIcWobDbU1Y4XunalXuq7iynkCziXNWDSBz98mrXu0lsYaHSP8RhtxkE7kKakG5gJEjsVxKFWqL/s640/Irma-Weij8.jpg" width="426" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">So many pattern, such little time. I am sure I found this on Jacci Stallone's </span><a href="http://beingperfectishard.com/"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">beingperfectishard.com,</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;"> a great blog if you have never check it out</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjviXBSjsPOgGRAPsOaRbuI_3vdplEleHyiFzhUHXrqYrKn7XsBasP4LKPdnRqHuQpHU2Nmh8YTd9yXFbFXBAG3CbZZ74DvSh_6LpKOBL45Sr-xZdQ_QzrFyHv3IsnAfa4Beo5rVPOgFLts/s1600/zach+fuck+yeah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjviXBSjsPOgGRAPsOaRbuI_3vdplEleHyiFzhUHXrqYrKn7XsBasP4LKPdnRqHuQpHU2Nmh8YTd9yXFbFXBAG3CbZZ74DvSh_6LpKOBL45Sr-xZdQ_QzrFyHv3IsnAfa4Beo5rVPOgFLts/s640/zach+fuck+yeah.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Oh silly Zach Condon. Everything about this picture is correct. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOaK9ci9txWJxQbrpSnjrqEnX3GMfd7sO59fHJDfVVsjaRwvVZjQE89AuaPYZcf8MEFt5ynaVW3pFbuMId6I8EwiqqTQKLvNfyUJKkNS0lKglkU7m5VysFdmy5-XQNyxRSYZkPYJy2AnSI/s1600/287527388_4b3047d4e4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOaK9ci9txWJxQbrpSnjrqEnX3GMfd7sO59fHJDfVVsjaRwvVZjQE89AuaPYZcf8MEFt5ynaVW3pFbuMId6I8EwiqqTQKLvNfyUJKkNS0lKglkU7m5VysFdmy5-XQNyxRSYZkPYJy2AnSI/s640/287527388_4b3047d4e4.jpg" width="476" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Mod-style paperdolls. I don't know where I found these. But they are adorable. Everything looks cuter with dilated, LSD-pupils</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiunYegE-x984ioccBi8ICHE2QvC8vmPZslTljttKBT5Cc5ZWwsFrQ2w465d9oHtMePrf-l6uiDRZomakJiwFBFB9menAig14jgok-zWw9mjw6UWdH1KZ73oHwO6VxpAX-AnemTSg4G_029/s1600/India.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="479" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiunYegE-x984ioccBi8ICHE2QvC8vmPZslTljttKBT5Cc5ZWwsFrQ2w465d9oHtMePrf-l6uiDRZomakJiwFBFB9menAig14jgok-zWw9mjw6UWdH1KZ73oHwO6VxpAX-AnemTSg4G_029/s640/India.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Hindu Imagery. One of my many obsessions. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclYwER9EnboxWGU2fyNZTiNAQ-ZPq-vMy9GA0S5yVh8Iu3KLWwcRaX9xMLYOSIU42KHICQ0VfrMBYuUCKV9Jdg4cccGpo1RYc9TcVIAN2WtC80A6-QQSj-7Er6e96YtVYOTjIfBZKRp8Z/s1600/bones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclYwER9EnboxWGU2fyNZTiNAQ-ZPq-vMy9GA0S5yVh8Iu3KLWwcRaX9xMLYOSIU42KHICQ0VfrMBYuUCKV9Jdg4cccGpo1RYc9TcVIAN2WtC80A6-QQSj-7Er6e96YtVYOTjIfBZKRp8Z/s640/bones.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Please feel free to make me one of these...anytime lol. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXk-az-_yHPu_FTl0KfXLA_juNU-hddQ3qQzB8ndom3mxM6JdIKXhxp3hFA-DqpGzAL7PnP883iKycK00lZLSwUI0B5qYXbaMz6bW6LXAW3lpgT76_LgYHUHb3r1rL0InKyO-xmxph61TE/s1600/janes_addiction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXk-az-_yHPu_FTl0KfXLA_juNU-hddQ3qQzB8ndom3mxM6JdIKXhxp3hFA-DqpGzAL7PnP883iKycK00lZLSwUI0B5qYXbaMz6bW6LXAW3lpgT76_LgYHUHb3r1rL0InKyO-xmxph61TE/s640/janes_addiction.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Look at my baby Perry, lol. What a youngin'. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5lOGb0iRApKhJuVknY0op7hJtabieL-VkgHVYdIgc21ryTQpT6HrKpyqD-Lp2XsA0yEznTr3weBNk1s-wDgRhhARHU0M2Jx0KCI1yt2UKJAxHWhFEwFLOd_m5s79MmrU2DJkcWLOdR6n/s1600/walter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5lOGb0iRApKhJuVknY0op7hJtabieL-VkgHVYdIgc21ryTQpT6HrKpyqD-Lp2XsA0yEznTr3weBNk1s-wDgRhhARHU0M2Jx0KCI1yt2UKJAxHWhFEwFLOd_m5s79MmrU2DJkcWLOdR6n/s400/walter.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">You are entering a world of pain. A WORLD. Of Pain. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExqHKUrRZCLX8Bxk-uZI1nxtgo_4Rmv2mj4Bu5Z6LCZBU9KJfYSA5GES1rMzkpt0TZJL86W5nc3RL98wAht0YtNEjBPjTBDFhbpo15qHMkGTFp2yO1CDLhqGvyBNhyZlAIDyJNNruo9Xd/s1600/vincentgallo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExqHKUrRZCLX8Bxk-uZI1nxtgo_4Rmv2mj4Bu5Z6LCZBU9KJfYSA5GES1rMzkpt0TZJL86W5nc3RL98wAht0YtNEjBPjTBDFhbpo15qHMkGTFp2yO1CDLhqGvyBNhyZlAIDyJNNruo9Xd/s640/vincentgallo.jpg" width="464" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Vincent Gallo, or unknown slender perfect-bummed lady? I'll take both, thank you! Yeah, I am a creeper. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4q_zhoN0xRFClVZcp8PBYI8o5HQWA-S5-6gbW-G_kLAl6pyabZtP7I9IbVvCfN92HPtAguPo8fcyTXJa7z2Ka2zR0pyXGYYLPCZ9l55_7G_lMZSmmMMXpvAEp8M1p9SMwI8CHnq_r6kS7/s1600/mermaid1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4q_zhoN0xRFClVZcp8PBYI8o5HQWA-S5-6gbW-G_kLAl6pyabZtP7I9IbVvCfN92HPtAguPo8fcyTXJa7z2Ka2zR0pyXGYYLPCZ9l55_7G_lMZSmmMMXpvAEp8M1p9SMwI8CHnq_r6kS7/s640/mermaid1.jpg" width="394" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Vintage Mermaid Postcard</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHVI7FWGmHHF_XVxetsyRJyhHUE9tL8pOoaiDhR1-QY9Jk7Bzzuc__5Mpmp901izvXXJtStmxi7A2G9AGAp4KOMZWKB0fXbIMoFG94l5ODxbn6lKUlRBnXjEpSAStk0jgp7EhfCY8stBW/s1600/dior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHVI7FWGmHHF_XVxetsyRJyhHUE9tL8pOoaiDhR1-QY9Jk7Bzzuc__5Mpmp901izvXXJtStmxi7A2G9AGAp4KOMZWKB0fXbIMoFG94l5ODxbn6lKUlRBnXjEpSAStk0jgp7EhfCY8stBW/s640/dior.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Past Dior Collection. Swoon. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFqPIheSUxpadrxPwwrqB8j9JtkS9H0yhsvt1ztbu88nH0M6ChVD9Wtm354F76BH_xBtuaW2dSZp92DkycMJkQtbtTis8uuo-kns_Tyj4vrH48y35597xoJwHNzWwLPopxtGmlWA0DMva/s1600/being+perfect+is+hard.jpg+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFqPIheSUxpadrxPwwrqB8j9JtkS9H0yhsvt1ztbu88nH0M6ChVD9Wtm354F76BH_xBtuaW2dSZp92DkycMJkQtbtTis8uuo-kns_Tyj4vrH48y35597xoJwHNzWwLPopxtGmlWA0DMva/s640/being+perfect+is+hard.jpg+3.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">I can't decide if I would want to get married in this, or just let people think I am crazy-yet-stylish and wear it every day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">More to come later. The kids are out of school now for summer. Not having to get up at the ass-crack of dawn is great, but now they look to me to constantly keep them entertained. And since I dont' really subscribe to the notion that the TV is an alterna-parent, I need to really flex my brain muscle and think of some good ideas this summer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">I am anxious to get to Arkansas or have my boy come here, soon. He started a new job (he is a CNA, which is a job title i have UTMOST respect for) that he starts tonight. Night shift. CNA. Yeah, my boyfriend really is an unsung hero. So I guess I will have to see him in a few days. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">I will write more later tonight. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">I have way more words in me today tryin to escape. </span><br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-15975043318497724292012-04-23T21:36:00.001-07:002012-04-23T21:38:27.478-07:00El Chupacabra<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Chupafest 2012. Le sigh. <br />
<br />
Not fair. Distance has never seemed so far away. In a way, I'm very glad to be far away from it, so that I can preserve the how well I am doing, I can maintain my clean bill of health. My sobriety. Which is numero uno, man. Seriously. After that, I am thankful for the distance so that nothing could interrupt my new embarkment on a new boy that fills the very bowels of my heart. And that ain't shitty :)<br />
<br />
God only knows what would happen if I was placed again prematurely not only into the swelling, in-your-face-yet-underground petri dish of fuckin opiates and beautifully seedy and intriguing things that swim in those dark waters, but also in the presense of the one-and-only Chupacabra, himself. <br />
<br />
As anyone who knows me, my heart will forever swell and shake at the mere mention of Mr. Chupa. My head recites his address, his birthdate, his middle name, my bottom lip shakes, and I feel an intant and intense sense of A) euphoria B) shame C) heartache and D) nostalgia. <br />
<br />
Don't think for a second that somehow it obscures the ability to love as deeply as I did him. It doesn't. I feel everything. Too much. Just, it's the fucking chupa/girly-girl dynamic that smelled like campfire smoke, post-grunge and punk rock in garages, burnt cd's, I love you's and I hate you's, tolerance, patience, fury, passion, and holes in the brain. <br />
<br />
Can you hear it right now? Ssshhh listen. Yes, there is Hedwig. And his angry inch. Slowly as the lights go down, across the trailer park. And there's that eye contact. <br />
<br />
Damnit. If i could fucking astral project for one moment's time, and just let you feel what I do with nostalgia this potent. You would be on fire as well. <br />
<br />
Thanks for a lifetime of wonderful memories jam packed into a few years. Most people don't get to experience what we did in three lifetimes. <br />
<br />
Someone go for me. And tell me in glorious detail about it. It's almost too much for me to even think about right now. <br />
<br />
Muah, Chupa. I know you'll never read this. <br />
<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-44925262482512600252012-04-14T17:45:00.001-07:002012-04-14T17:45:51.341-07:00Patron Saint of Pretty<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><div style='width:600px;margin:0 auto'><div style='position:relative;'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/patron_saint_pretty/set?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=47211260'><img force='1' border='0' height='600' title='Patron Saint of Pretty' src='http://embed.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-set/cid/47211260/id/lB9E50HETEeQnmDWo9XRgg/size/y.jpg' alt='Patron Saint of Pretty' width='600'/></a></div></div><br/><div style='text-align:center'><small><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/patron_saint_pretty/set?.embedder=3379792&amp;.svc=blogger&amp;id=47211260'>Patron Saint of Pretty</a> by <a href='http://desimadeline.polyvore.com/?.embedder=3379792&amp;.svc=blogger'>desimadeline</a> featuring <a href='http://www.polyvore.com/leopard_shorts/shop?query=leopard+shorts'>leopard shorts</a></small></div><div style='width:600px;margin:0 auto'><br/><div style='text-align:left;'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=53451544' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' title='Leopard shorts' src='http://ak2.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/53451544.jpg' hspace='4' width='50' vspace='4'/></a><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=53883870' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' title='Socks' src='http://ak1.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/53883870.jpg' hspace='4' width='50' vspace='4'/></a><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=54483065' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' title='Clear jewelry' src='http://ak2.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/54483065.jpg' hspace='4' width='50' vspace='4'/></a><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52901008' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' title='The Lattice Circle' src='http://ak2.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/52901008.jpg' hspace='4' width='50' vspace='4'/></a><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=33170408' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' title='Kim Seybert Capiz Placemat' src='http://ak1.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/33170408.jpg' hspace='4' width='50' vspace='4'/></a><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=34140270' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' title='CALYPSO PERFUME PROD INC. Kerala Candle' src='http://ak2.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/34140270.jpg' hspace='4' width='50' vspace='4'/></a><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=50461687' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' title='River Island Rose Garland Headband' src='http://ak2.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/50461687.jpg' hspace='4' width='50' vspace='4'/></a><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=49833753' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' title='Karl Sequined poplin collar' src='http://ak1.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/49833753.jpg' hspace='4' width='50' vspace='4'/></a><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=50461682' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' title='River Island Rose Garland Headband' src='http://ak1.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/50461682.jpg' hspace='4' width='50' vspace='4'/></a></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-12509566445219588982012-04-14T13:25:00.000-07:002012-04-14T13:25:53.523-07:0090s Barbies!!! Erin, pictures just for you, as per request!!! :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So today, after a <em>horrible </em>breakfast, I swear my mother is cursed and always ends up with the worst service and/or food you could ever have, the girls and I walked across the road to this store that said "Elm Street Garage Sale" in Broken Arrow. OMG. We found an entire box of barbie clothing that I had when I was growing up! We bought the whole box for $15!!!! We have been dressing them all morning, what a nice Satruday. And watching Beauty and the Beast. Again. Lol. Here are some pics we took, I think their new barbies and pretty stylin. I swear I saw all of these clothes at Rue 21 in Plano, Texas! Hahaha<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oh I wish I had all these clothes! Oh and a 19" waist, right hahahaha</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Love you Erin!</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-49839622475658049842012-04-13T12:31:00.000-07:002012-04-13T12:31:53.129-07:00Devotionals, shades of graditude and leaving loser ville.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I am always so overwhelmed by the small, wonderful things we have in life. I am reminded of the saying today <br />
<br />
"<span style="font-family: Arial;">Gratitude consists of being more aware of what you have, than what you don’t. –Unknown"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Days like today, I want to whisk my children and lover off to maybe Nepal, or maybe some quiet part of Thailand. or maybe...a ranch in rural Montana. Or my mind wanders to being in the bustled streets in India. Or just simply, here, in Oklahoma, being more grateful for the things I need not want, already. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Maybe it is due to watching "One day in the Life" (documenting one day, July 24th, 2010 with edited footage from an original, astounding 4000+ minutes, submitted from all over the world)that I am so grateful for the wonderful life i have. I really am blessed. It is astounding how much we so take for granted. I know, it sounds so cliche, but really, life is beautiful. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Recently, I have been blessed with finding a tremendous addition to my life. A best friend. And lover. And amazing one he is at both. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Yes, yes, this is the next chapter, that has closed the files and books on the Chupa saga. Which I have <em>never </em>said before.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was reminded this morning of how proud you should be, and never ashamed to love, LOVE. To never ever cut love off, or prevent yourself from giving it or receiving it. You know us hedonistic humans, and how if we have been pained before, we do anything we can often, to prevent it from happening again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">But what happens, if you have loved an absent love. And in that absense, the memory has evolved into nothing but fondness, respect, nostalgia, and the wish to replace it someday. What happens, if you remove the bandage that has since healed that small wound underneath, displaying a shiny new cartoonish, bright fuck-me -lipstick red anatomical metaphorical heart, ready to be used again.....and somebody actually picks it, up, spits and polishes it, and asks you if they can hold it for you for a little while. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And an amazing thing happens- you go to tell them no? yes? And the light catches them, and you realize, they <em>respect </em>you. They look at you with adornment and the same look in their eye that your idol and rolemodel in all things romantic, once looked at you many years ago next to a Pacific Northwest campfire, heavy with the smell of pine trees and fresh dirt around you and asked if you would be their girl. And it meant everything to you. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And now, it catches you off guard, for this moment meant more to you than even that one. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And your mind is limber, and sober now, it is free to not be a caged animal. To succumb to mental slavery is to prevent yourself from having all the strength my Lord gave me to be so free and able to go anywhere in my head, and do anything. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I close my eyes now, while my children are at school. the house is quiet, the world is bustling, and although it seems slow as molasses here, in Oklahoma, in the sleepy midwest, and like I have momentarily been left behind, i know it will only be greater and louder and more wonderful because I am loved, I am loved by my children. I am loved by Him. I am loved by my JamJam. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Music seems more distinct today. Food taste sweeter today. Coffee taste bolder today. Pain wasn't as strong today. Emotions ran at an all-time high. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Please, today anyone out there reading this, know there is more good in our small insecure world than bad. Know that if you feel like you have it right now, you do, or will. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As quickly as negative comes, it will go away.It will be replaced by good, the trick is, to notice it, and sieze it. </span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-49405220544769436132012-04-09T07:26:00.000-07:002012-04-09T07:26:11.462-07:00And thus begins the dawning of clipping for Polyvore<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVS9WCmtfxNE6RzGJDhTkX4szwWbz2zNo32fEI8ubERWnhW7CL_tU6Z9Q6FQWr39Y5ua4ETXw5At_ooSz6rqDt5djRtHsaifQo5PlJnMcRyZF5goshO9fTf6tUkIIR39ar4Kbplprjau5-/s1600/19479_107329632616535_100000184952598_198404_1796720_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVS9WCmtfxNE6RzGJDhTkX4szwWbz2zNo32fEI8ubERWnhW7CL_tU6Z9Q6FQWr39Y5ua4ETXw5At_ooSz6rqDt5djRtHsaifQo5PlJnMcRyZF5goshO9fTf6tUkIIR39ar4Kbplprjau5-/s640/19479_107329632616535_100000184952598_198404_1796720_n.jpg" width="492" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRiXIZPHUsSfU1dgLhIedEgfGH-76pnfTdXr0tGua7AbvZWmsiJnad3UMsjbkZ4KGoo9IMgePXSB__DfI8W9ci5Vkekt-oMg-ujQR5XDcQDpDgKwglwMZX9IKZ6-Jn33-zHnp3OsxOjUTQ/s1600/b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRiXIZPHUsSfU1dgLhIedEgfGH-76pnfTdXr0tGua7AbvZWmsiJnad3UMsjbkZ4KGoo9IMgePXSB__DfI8W9ci5Vkekt-oMg-ujQR5XDcQDpDgKwglwMZX9IKZ6-Jn33-zHnp3OsxOjUTQ/s640/b.jpg" width="444" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLW5BRpss_vzp3jIaNGDxGhC3h8hJPSm_288aJyZkkMs0WZGNzdBl3sRXTGtUDM2E2VS5Ped8vcV0NWERbpWrqSv-kPmIrDMjCuG_cOlWx37f1IfAm_0txI0YcKYAqGgpNqNXLvQ7bGDc/s1600/e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLW5BRpss_vzp3jIaNGDxGhC3h8hJPSm_288aJyZkkMs0WZGNzdBl3sRXTGtUDM2E2VS5Ped8vcV0NWERbpWrqSv-kPmIrDMjCuG_cOlWx37f1IfAm_0txI0YcKYAqGgpNqNXLvQ7bGDc/s640/e.jpg" width="594" /></a></div>I apologize, I am proud of my art, but I am adding things to clip to polyvore. Well, at least it's pretty to look at lol</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-56853274185527872642012-04-02T11:06:00.000-07:002012-04-02T11:06:27.186-07:00Regrets, Heroin, and New Leaves<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Oh sigh sigh sigh. <br />
<br />
As well as I am doing in my life now, I find it hard to believe that in a time less far away than I would like to admit, I was a junkie slut heroin addict. <br />
<br />
How life got to be like that, I have no idea. I mean, I remember the day it went from mmm shooting up feels glorious, to omg I'm going to be sick if I don't get some, it was in the 5ft x 9ft travel trailer that Brian and I lived in, in the parking lot of his dad's automotive shop (Sorry Chuck). <br />
<br />
How seductive and powerful that horrible heroin is. I can't to this day smell vinegar without feeling dope sick. I can't get a shot or see a syringe without longing, and then feeling sick. Almost like a Clockwork Orange effect. I don't ever want to touch it ever again. <br />
Well, of course, every addict always wants to <em>feel it again,</em> but never wants to become the addict we were at our worst and royally, emotionally ass-fuck every person we came into contact with and did that to before. <br />
I just today wrote somebody that I know really deserved an apology. I used him like any piece of shit junkie uses somebody to not be sick, to get rides to meet shady people, for shady things. <br />
Then I would high as a kite, and he really would be my hero, and my friend. Oh man, if he got me what I could throw in a spoon and cook, well as soon as it hit my system there's no one that was sweeter to him than me. <br />
<br />
Yeah yeah, I should just focus on the really great part, which is, I am totally sober now and plan on being that for a long, long long time. <br />
<br />
Some days it is just... there is such a duality in what I crave. If I think about some of the things I did, I get sick. Sometimes I think of wanting it so bad, I get sick. <br />
<br />
I am sorry to you, Justin D. That was all me and it's really depressing me today.<br />
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Karma. <br />
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It's a bitch</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-78796086428475815522012-03-30T19:28:00.000-07:002012-03-30T19:28:14.091-07:00Anybody want a peanut butter and .gif sandwhich?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Ooh I collect these little animated gifs, and never know what to do with them! It's not like you can print them out and frame them. <br />
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These are mostly Pamela I can't remember her last name, and Matthew Reed</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-50177110880124097312012-03-30T13:43:00.000-07:002012-03-30T13:43:46.500-07:00Dallas, Anticipation, and a ghetto thrift store I dream about<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So, it's a little late to be talking about it now, but I went to Dallas, Texas during my kids' spring break from school. My mum, myself, and the girls took the four hour drive, so that we could get away from this dustbowl we now (against our will) call home. We went mainly for two things; 1. A hotel with an indoor swimming pool for my little mermaids and 2. IKEA/ and or the Outlet mall. I guess that's three things. <br />
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The drive up there was four hours. And what a nice drive it was. When we drove there, the sky was tinted the color of a bruise, giving way to periodical showers. My favourite type of weather. We passed through Eufalla, and for fleeting seconds at a time, I could squint out to the horizon, where mini-mountains and rolling hills could magically appear to be driving on Guide Meridian, in Lynden/Bellingham, Washington. I want so badly to be in that landscape again, it makes my bones ache. <br />
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Note below, the first picture is Eufala, Oklahoma. The second is Chuckanut Drive, Bellingham WA<br />
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It is hard for my Mum and I to even taste reality and confront the idea that we live in a place without so much as a semi-spacious body of water. There are no mountains, hills, evergreens, or misty valleys to admire in Tulsa. You get flat, beige-with-sticks to look at. I remember the first night I ever arrived in Tulsa, it was 3am, and in the morning I went outside and in the sunlight I remember thinking "where did the earthy mountains go?"<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqyykkLavV2su7VeZ5LV_rdaxHdi_35tNjHAU23HDsTGOE3Fot48ocdeQ8tSJLO2hfBdTqR6ZOR2-3Z2ji9sZurTPh7B2qydjms_PcMQEwdIGojd9Ola3DtmLAwDPuagivp8gc-pErrAF/s1600/eufala1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqyykkLavV2su7VeZ5LV_rdaxHdi_35tNjHAU23HDsTGOE3Fot48ocdeQ8tSJLO2hfBdTqR6ZOR2-3Z2ji9sZurTPh7B2qydjms_PcMQEwdIGojd9Ola3DtmLAwDPuagivp8gc-pErrAF/s640/eufala1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Eufala, Oklahoma</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYvJxPd3pdKsy4snR5wSB57vvDMnS_8JzCCVgD7fKj2e82nuQNYgjJxs3ItxPCDpxz6nFrVQJcyTydk_ryWr9HHpiXfdtgRoMMqncrkggFCTTQKw13wOJoTVolvir7AK5erbJNx7fuihF/s1600/chuckanut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYvJxPd3pdKsy4snR5wSB57vvDMnS_8JzCCVgD7fKj2e82nuQNYgjJxs3ItxPCDpxz6nFrVQJcyTydk_ryWr9HHpiXfdtgRoMMqncrkggFCTTQKw13wOJoTVolvir7AK5erbJNx7fuihF/s640/chuckanut.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chuckanut Bay/Drive, Washington</span></td></tr>
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When we got to Dallas, we had a pretty good time. We cleaned house at Rue 21, and The Children's Place. As well as IKEA. I took some pretty neat pictures at that ode-to-Sweden-home-decor-store. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXSIP0oukupXQW_OxWT5UJJoj-NXt3pHFQlyuybJAQ8P2Hh4rw3gmbHGozFHB2XGXFjWJbs6qH3Q_VR5H2B_ES8UQGEHlNm7HIuY9UPlw4CvdSRh8cQM8cFQQrc2c11oThB5XYWsgcW2I/s1600/Ikea+fabric.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXSIP0oukupXQW_OxWT5UJJoj-NXt3pHFQlyuybJAQ8P2Hh4rw3gmbHGozFHB2XGXFjWJbs6qH3Q_VR5H2B_ES8UQGEHlNm7HIuY9UPlw4CvdSRh8cQM8cFQQrc2c11oThB5XYWsgcW2I/s640/Ikea+fabric.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">fabric banner at IKEA</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWOF7RxtkyCcoYJx9bapAow0WkD8ar2RffT1vtv0qJBDpzrTKYPcvUsQkCscAoJRLddad3lJ0FCRTEc3S8CU0xrfjKya4OnpEAS7RQerrTJ2TwjpkrjI7JEpGpSRxFxHghAyKWacxv9ip/s1600/Ikea+parking+lot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWOF7RxtkyCcoYJx9bapAow0WkD8ar2RffT1vtv0qJBDpzrTKYPcvUsQkCscAoJRLddad3lJ0FCRTEc3S8CU0xrfjKya4OnpEAS7RQerrTJ2TwjpkrjI7JEpGpSRxFxHghAyKWacxv9ip/s640/Ikea+parking+lot.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Family Parking space, at IKEA</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsPyq5pJt80zeWGUhm8kLhsQRK5jmH_E5qhquosMKDzVLeP5EJtolxX2xFlGNsafEE4p7gVnv-48Ae2NWKLBoE177WMgshCQsqEYd0j6CRA_nZTsnyNqZVt6Q-wiC9xOnqqwBzHDKrFBlH/s1600/Image03222012171845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsPyq5pJt80zeWGUhm8kLhsQRK5jmH_E5qhquosMKDzVLeP5EJtolxX2xFlGNsafEE4p7gVnv-48Ae2NWKLBoE177WMgshCQsqEYd0j6CRA_nZTsnyNqZVt6Q-wiC9xOnqqwBzHDKrFBlH/s640/Image03222012171845.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Two-Story tall IKEA sign..no seriously, it is</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdb3v2roe9ID2jTHW58f6jkrdqFZ7Jy6r85r5AJ0OBtyjvtGqBeM62Bb4mE1W_POdpuAfcq_0kFLnNx3mbSEX5ppEhusr2cNZcB5QHZgh7aCvUVR0x42K2bFWtpab8Q6W9xkJPV_rpwiH2/s1600/Desi+at+Ikea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdb3v2roe9ID2jTHW58f6jkrdqFZ7Jy6r85r5AJ0OBtyjvtGqBeM62Bb4mE1W_POdpuAfcq_0kFLnNx3mbSEX5ppEhusr2cNZcB5QHZgh7aCvUVR0x42K2bFWtpab8Q6W9xkJPV_rpwiH2/s640/Desi+at+Ikea.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tired after three hours of lighting fixtures, picture frames and couch cushions, Desi stops to take a well-deserved rest</span><br />
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</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: small;">The ride there and back were actually my favourite parts. We stopped in an old, run down part of Oklahoma, or was it Texas (?) It all kind of blended together after a while, and I was screaming up and down for my poor Mum (she is the kind of person that does not like going anywhere where people's junk and cars in the yard take up more space on their property than the house) to stop at this thrift store, that I only saw the sign for. She is so sweet, she obliged, but alas, the store was closed. Located on the corner of Decrepit Street, and Ghetto Blvd, it was literally a single wide trailer PACKED to the ceiling of what little treasures I could never even begin to surmise. </span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: small;">So now I dream of it, lol. I would literally be willing to make the three hour drive for nothing but to spend all day going through every basket and bin in that place. Someday, thrift store, someday, I'll be back for you. </span></div><div align="left"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKA1Xxe8Tg66jWd81z0OK7N46wYtqF5Kl3xAoc4uWvXlwdzEKwxE9e3Obb7fYeSqECThJib4Ax-1zinStDoux3KLAjsvkh1cVPTslTRDzi8xXd0_kJ3wb0DhUNiOu30c4XNk8WrPUIWKZ3/s1600/thrift+store.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKA1Xxe8Tg66jWd81z0OK7N46wYtqF5Kl3xAoc4uWvXlwdzEKwxE9e3Obb7fYeSqECThJib4Ax-1zinStDoux3KLAjsvkh1cVPTslTRDzi8xXd0_kJ3wb0DhUNiOu30c4XNk8WrPUIWKZ3/s640/thrift+store.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVExncBmxw874JEmjoFElVjpGM8PwoRyCN190BgnPM_6wcRRpWuQiEjZsOxvYSR_sV1aZNG9tgNABD2cURG-LGb0I3ya1RFHnWqnQAMdArYx7gh0M_spRwBeV6DUJpHf2vgND3l5FQ5w_/s1600/outside+atoka+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVExncBmxw874JEmjoFElVjpGM8PwoRyCN190BgnPM_6wcRRpWuQiEjZsOxvYSR_sV1aZNG9tgNABD2cURG-LGb0I3ya1RFHnWqnQAMdArYx7gh0M_spRwBeV6DUJpHf2vgND3l5FQ5w_/s640/outside+atoka+2.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div></td></tr>
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Above, the Thrift store sign and the buildings they called neighbors. <br />
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So that was our trip to Dallas. <br />
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In other news, I get to go see EDDIE VEDDER on April 23!!! At the Brady Theatre, in Tulsa. <br />
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The theatre was constructed in 1914, and renovated in 1930 and 1952. Used as a detention center during the infamous Tulsa Race Riots (oh yeah gotta love the midwest) in 1921 and is on the national register of historic places. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="488" id="il_fi" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6GlvYHeMZIl6s14TZo2qgu0dMQuscTE6gsL1lfk0z2Vid5-BfRpYAa8IZ4Sm6pjmeDz1Gt_0s_YX0EOqywiHj6dYKlgJvQiaAgHnjruxjX8Jh0VkfkmoZSV4YhVisDd2dN5We2k0UICQ/s640/Convention+Hall.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Brady Theatre, formally known as the Tulsa Convention Center</span><br />
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<div align="left"><span style="font-size: small;">I really don't know what I am more excited about- seeing Eddie Vedder or getting to go with my dear, dear friend, James. Ooh him and I are going to have the most fabulous time ever. I'll be thinking long and hard about which outfit best screams "I-am-a-90s-grunge-child-who-loves-flowers/i-am-trying-to-impress-you". We'll wait and see. </span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: small;">I must say on a parting note- CONGRATS, again, to my amazing friend, Britt Hannowell. Who I have had the pleasure of knowing since I was 14-15 (?) Britt you'll have to give me conformation on that, for sure, for GRADUATING and becoming an RN!!!! You get it girl, you are a wonderful contribution to the human race and I hold my breath for the day we can reunite in my beloved Bellingham!</span></div><div align="left"><br />
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</div><div align="left"><span style="font-size: small;">xo</span></div><br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-10526508570924859442012-03-22T21:42:00.001-07:002012-03-22T21:42:16.540-07:00Mad for Mod<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><div style='width:600px;margin:0 auto'><div style='position:relative;'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/mad_for_mod/set?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=45881921'><img force='1' border='0' height='600' title='Mad for Mod' src='http://embed.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-set/cid/45881921/id/gVJBAqqsQAeBHuHwpDaamg/size/y.jpg' alt='Mad for Mod' width='600'/></a></div></div><br/><div style='text-align:center'><small><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/mad_for_mod/set?.embedder=3379792&amp;.svc=blogger&amp;id=45881921'>Mad for Mod</a> by <a href='http://desimadeline.polyvore.com/?.embedder=3379792&amp;.svc=blogger'>desimadeline</a> featuring a <a href='http://www.polyvore.com/beret_hat/shop?query=beret+hat'>beret hat</a></small></div><div style='width:600px;margin:0 auto'><small><div style='padding-top:16px'><p style='clear:both;margin:0em;padding:0px'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52569207' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' style='border:1px solid #cccccc;margin:0 8px 8px 0;padding:2px;background-color:#ffffff;' src='http://ak1.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/52569207.jpg' hspace='4' align='left' width='50'/></a><div style='margin-bottom:8px;text-align:left;'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52569207' rel='nofollow'>Emilio Pucci print dress</a><br/>€569 - jades24.com<br/><br style='display:none'/></div></p><p style='clear:both;margin:0em;padding:0px'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52475859' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' style='border:1px solid #cccccc;margin:0 8px 8px 0;padding:2px;background-color:#ffffff;' src='http://ak2.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/52475859.jpg' hspace='4' align='left' width='50'/></a><div style='margin-bottom:8px;text-align:left;'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52475859' rel='nofollow'>Camilla and Marc print dress</a><br/>$560 - net-a-porter.com<br/><br style='display:none'/></div></p><p style='clear:both;margin:0em;padding:0px'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52082541' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' style='border:1px solid #cccccc;margin:0 8px 8px 0;padding:2px;background-color:#ffffff;' src='http://ak2.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/52082541.jpg' hspace='4' align='left' width='50'/></a><div style='margin-bottom:8px;text-align:left;'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52082541' rel='nofollow'>Vintage day dress</a><br/>£79 - farfetch.com<br/><br style='display:none'/></div></p><p style='clear:both;margin:0em;padding:0px'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52271565' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' style='border:1px solid #cccccc;margin:0 8px 8px 0;padding:2px;background-color:#ffffff;' src='http://ak2.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/52271565.jpg' hspace='4' align='left' width='50'/></a><div style='margin-bottom:8px;text-align:left;'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52271565' rel='nofollow'>Emilio Pucci zip clutch wallet</a><br/>€205 - colette.fr<br/><br style='display:none'/></div></p><p style='clear:both;margin:0em;padding:0px'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52451411' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' style='border:1px solid #cccccc;margin:0 8px 8px 0;padding:2px;background-color:#ffffff;' src='http://ak2.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/52451411.jpg' hspace='4' align='left' width='50'/></a><div style='margin-bottom:8px;text-align:left;'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52451411' rel='nofollow'>Black brooch</a><br/>$20 - rustyzipper.com<br/><br style='display:none'/></div></p><p style='clear:both;margin:0em;padding:0px'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=53235384' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' style='border:1px solid #cccccc;margin:0 8px 8px 0;padding:2px;background-color:#ffffff;' src='http://ak2.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/53235384.jpg' hspace='4' align='left' width='50'/></a><div style='margin-bottom:8px;text-align:left;'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=53235384' rel='nofollow'>Emilio Pucci butterfly scarve</a><br/>$330 - bloomingdales.com<br/><br style='display:none'/></div></p><p style='clear:both;margin:0em;padding:0px'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52522440' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' style='border:1px solid #cccccc;margin:0 8px 8px 0;padding:2px;background-color:#ffffff;' src='http://ak1.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/52522440.jpg' hspace='4' align='left' width='50'/></a><div style='margin-bottom:8px;text-align:left;'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=52522440' rel='nofollow'>Beret hat</a><br/>$15 - amazon.com<br/><br style='display:none'/></div></p><p style='clear:both;margin:0em;padding:0px'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=53352529' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' style='border:1px solid #cccccc;margin:0 8px 8px 0;padding:2px;background-color:#ffffff;' src='http://ak1.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/53352529.jpg' hspace='4' align='left' width='50'/></a><div style='margin-bottom:8px;text-align:left;'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=53352529' rel='nofollow'>Study for Homage to Square, 1960 44x44 Framed Art Print by Albers,...</a><br/>$290 - marketplaceadvisor.channeladvisor.com<br/><br style='display:none'/></div></p><p style='clear:both;margin:0em;padding:0px'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=50464090' rel='nofollow'><img force='1' height='50' style='border:1px solid #cccccc;margin:0 8px 8px 0;padding:2px;background-color:#ffffff;' src='http://ak1.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/50464090.jpg' hspace='4' align='left' width='50'/></a><div style='margin-bottom:8px;text-align:left;'><a href='http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing.outbound?.embedder=3379792&.svc=blogger&id=50464090' rel='nofollow'>1STDIBS.COM - The White Warehouse - Rya - 1960s Rya Rug</a><br/>1stdibs.com<br/><br style='display:none'/></div></p></div></small></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-86057309575990964052012-03-21T20:14:00.000-07:002012-03-21T20:14:16.541-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">First off, <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/GYW5G2kbrKk?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
I want me some of those. Those are amazing. I love things like that. Just a random video I am in love with.<br />
<br />
I went and saw Jane's Addiction at the Hard Rock Casino in Catoosa, outside of Tulsa OK. It was AMAZING, let me say that again; AMAZING and I fell even farther in love with Perry- who held my hand a few times while I was leaning on the stage, blew me a kiss...... touched my face...he's a little bit of a flirt, as Chupa once warned me he was. Dave Navarro- sorry dude, but is kind of a douche nozzle. <br />
I mean, he gave me a few high fives and listened as I drunkenly-slurred at him that "Seattle loves him" but to other people, he wasn' the friendliest. <br />
<br />
Here are my fave pics that I took that night:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9J7fN0mXWyPRIJQiKU_5cHLfDwCokF-uGcyf9OnqNCQsc_SrDShjMGiq-jxaE1wNMr6WrrB2744sjA_F2PW5cQvgT48LHGC3MWmp-jkMc9xdnuN9VIXuo9G6wGf5ImAo9PmSiFVSANYFx/s1600/Image03152012222040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9J7fN0mXWyPRIJQiKU_5cHLfDwCokF-uGcyf9OnqNCQsc_SrDShjMGiq-jxaE1wNMr6WrrB2744sjA_F2PW5cQvgT48LHGC3MWmp-jkMc9xdnuN9VIXuo9G6wGf5ImAo9PmSiFVSANYFx/s640/Image03152012222040.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjukpWDiSg_4Zaie48lTQx-7Ggg2mCd6CVbue-acLIfmI011HdcxfTddeIt_GKBZBIZrMHeGCKMKJ7xVRo-O2Kla4aNe5j1ClGYiKssrW3mBIlBdcUV2STlJQkE4BjULZ9ePAKpeMf9tRyL/s1600/Image03152012214456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjukpWDiSg_4Zaie48lTQx-7Ggg2mCd6CVbue-acLIfmI011HdcxfTddeIt_GKBZBIZrMHeGCKMKJ7xVRo-O2Kla4aNe5j1ClGYiKssrW3mBIlBdcUV2STlJQkE4BjULZ9ePAKpeMf9tRyL/s640/Image03152012214456.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJfTgdgs9H6i7BYCTYdCAtGFD2Yagx5wkK2jb6TN1g9DwEB45XgSyE2YwBKcoGV2FbkF8FT2kwtbDPl5TqhsED5oTMM5SsW6V81ojPN47745ni_EymJgETe1P5vm5DLQKvG1ZpjyhSLoHH/s1600/Image03152012212958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJfTgdgs9H6i7BYCTYdCAtGFD2Yagx5wkK2jb6TN1g9DwEB45XgSyE2YwBKcoGV2FbkF8FT2kwtbDPl5TqhsED5oTMM5SsW6V81ojPN47745ni_EymJgETe1P5vm5DLQKvG1ZpjyhSLoHH/s640/Image03152012212958.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrqpRwwD4pOWBukY3sJAUhpwzuoiZlaISUHw8mXeZ3tl3qlqG9MhFZaixc575ONDfEetb6cAJlhpkMccelTFJFkn2_667aleMjhjAPDFLXpVXGTsT0-krBAf_we56zIiTBB3v4NT1tgTFT/s1600/Image03152012215721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrqpRwwD4pOWBukY3sJAUhpwzuoiZlaISUHw8mXeZ3tl3qlqG9MhFZaixc575ONDfEetb6cAJlhpkMccelTFJFkn2_667aleMjhjAPDFLXpVXGTsT0-krBAf_we56zIiTBB3v4NT1tgTFT/s640/Image03152012215721.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Great great time. I wouldn't mind goin to see them again in Dallas, TX. They opened with "Ocean Size" and that was my favorite. Perry has aged like fuckin wine (which he was drinkin onstage that night) and they sounded better than I could have even imagined.<br />
<br />
Speaking of Dallas....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My daughters are on spring break right now, we're headed to Dallas, TX tomorrow for some shopping. <br />
I am on the HUNT for these:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNHWWyNtFFX3BxeKjChU_iUacKL_Y0R1G43lgm_Bcp4v7Km_eR0QkW1HiZZQFfsEKBX42vWv9iDlMMAMxA8K1xlUTvwhA8-ESPpeJKV0Xa3AIqrtA4JV7h68SClgM0ZMmPradDiQrysk35/s1600/floral+docs+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNHWWyNtFFX3BxeKjChU_iUacKL_Y0R1G43lgm_Bcp4v7Km_eR0QkW1HiZZQFfsEKBX42vWv9iDlMMAMxA8K1xlUTvwhA8-ESPpeJKV0Xa3AIqrtA4JV7h68SClgM0ZMmPradDiQrysk35/s320/floral+docs+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFg30y_0wVHgLmYJQQVdc_3YEeIEV9fwZAHcFRmBFQGKJnGO9aI11w7vWUA1Uv_u_KRqZz5YiqtM7CI1CgLdmoLcwzr5pN8of4ltwIWSadERW75gcDo_bmn0NCDtDVlGaRonbSrUlOI5MW/s1600/floral+doc+martens2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFg30y_0wVHgLmYJQQVdc_3YEeIEV9fwZAHcFRmBFQGKJnGO9aI11w7vWUA1Uv_u_KRqZz5YiqtM7CI1CgLdmoLcwzr5pN8of4ltwIWSadERW75gcDo_bmn0NCDtDVlGaRonbSrUlOI5MW/s320/floral+doc+martens2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCV16O7cK9Bf5BImxwXZIn0vH0JqOKOFffL-eb-UZLt1j3npO3Bwko61_hYQwUzzy_lSJnCwanH1YRzF3-8JJQnImRh7TYXvLF2Vqm2po7gBcQhXAbXSBI-oNkLI9ELOD8Wc3bKz0ZMTqj/s1600/dr-martens-vintage-shoes-h-m-top_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCV16O7cK9Bf5BImxwXZIn0vH0JqOKOFffL-eb-UZLt1j3npO3Bwko61_hYQwUzzy_lSJnCwanH1YRzF3-8JJQnImRh7TYXvLF2Vqm2po7gBcQhXAbXSBI-oNkLI9ELOD8Wc3bKz0ZMTqj/s320/dr-martens-vintage-shoes-h-m-top_400.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhVgDx3JBlmNeYNOqT7Bxy2etjcO7WyeBKKT3-RLN8NwwzrIZLIQE0o_goZjHb0cjsugM0zf1ppCWDGki28udzHmZndc3jFfDZ39CNUWe74UDvIJFXNdjudb3vIh7yEkZjbG1i24154Bw/s1600/floral+docs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhVgDx3JBlmNeYNOqT7Bxy2etjcO7WyeBKKT3-RLN8NwwzrIZLIQE0o_goZjHb0cjsugM0zf1ppCWDGki28udzHmZndc3jFfDZ39CNUWe74UDvIJFXNdjudb3vIh7yEkZjbG1i24154Bw/s320/floral+docs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Om nom nom nom I wanna eat em all up. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Hopefully somewhere in the Dallas area I will be able to buy some and not from frickin' Journeys. I don't know why or what about it...but I can NOT stand that store. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Hmmm what else is new.... oh! I have a new friend! He is super super super awesome and him and I will send pages at a time conversations about music, movies, family, just...whatever. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We SPAN time. We're friends, SPANNING time. Buffalo '66? Anyone? No?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am just really glad to have met someone I can really talk to here in the stoopid mid-west. No offense meant, but if it did sorry. I am not gonna rephrase that. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Moving on...... I found some amazing pics of Charlotte Free, little love of my fashion life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She just gives off such a vibe of the whole fuckyou(th) tribe and is so effortlessly visually appealing. So I guess I better come out here and officially ask; Charlotte, if you ever come across this page.... wanna go out for some coffee? Dinner? I love you. What... I didn't say that aloud. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzkAXnnPtoIBCupMzGri_8omlo2EHbi-38S6rMtxnPu3w-oYbOU9257FVh9FmVgTFV22T3TjqnEgAXGL5wwhm0wJfXTQPte8XQeIJLdPcD9y6s5NA20jeelpFTk9WZQGYVteeP8YrZVF__/s1600/charlotte+free+nails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzkAXnnPtoIBCupMzGri_8omlo2EHbi-38S6rMtxnPu3w-oYbOU9257FVh9FmVgTFV22T3TjqnEgAXGL5wwhm0wJfXTQPte8XQeIJLdPcD9y6s5NA20jeelpFTk9WZQGYVteeP8YrZVF__/s400/charlotte+free+nails.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I just love her. I stare a little too-longingly at her when I am making Polyvore sets. Which I will post more of soon.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am off for now. Gotta pack for Dallas. </div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-5889860286898688682012-02-29T19:00:00.000-08:002012-02-29T19:00:30.029-08:00Look what the cat dragged (back) in.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Well well,<br />
<br />
it has been a while, hasn't it. But never fear, the brain that walks on two poles (polars) as if stilts will never fully leave. Just take too-long of breaks. Sometimes my mental hopscotches stray me far far away.<br />
<br />
The girls are 5 and 6. In pre-k and kindergarten now. Here are the days where we have homework and a strong structured schedule. Every other night is bath night. We read a lot (the girls are reading now) and play the wii, go for walks, draw, listen to music, etc.<br />
<br />
Madeline and Desi love Adele, the Rolling Stones, Journey, Beyonce, and Morphine. <br />
<br />
I, when alone, find myself obsessed with Polyvore... here are some of my collections below....<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="height: 600px; position: relative; width: 600px;"><a href="http://www.polyvore.com/no_more_poison/set?.embedder=3379792&.svc=copypaste&id=44039135"><img alt="no more poison" border="0" height="600" src="http://embed.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-set/cid/44039135/id/HaMahau9QqqXrAEa3jFHvQ/size/y.jpg" title="no more poison" width="600" /></a></div>Who can play "find the items that reek of heartache to ms. Equidistant?" Name 5 and name the location of the Mountain and B&W picture in the corner (hint: Whatcom County) and I will make you your very own collage to proudly (or full of shame) display (or hide) on your blog, fb, etc. <br />
<br />
I got a little worked up...because of ONE little documentary on Netflix, I was reeled into that nostalgia you get only through music. I mean, smells, colors, sights, movies, art, etc. They can all provoke it too. But to me there is no bigger culprit of this than Music. Fucking Bela Fleck man, lol. <br />
Anyhow, it conjured of deep feelings in me and the collage/whateveryouwannacallit above was the outcome. I called it "No more POison". I might print this out and interpret it into a painting or somethin....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH3PKeAmH1XSrmV4Hli82ZlJJ7lCDq0GSOt_HhjqMrEh3F5Oi2Sl4hEBrXW1RBrTc0aLijZrgf5JPPy0vE7S5clVURovVeVecnP981eO3VMfp0sITfmKDQRTwrlGWtajYSnyysdN7O6iJ1/s1600/throw_down.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" lda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH3PKeAmH1XSrmV4Hli82ZlJJ7lCDq0GSOt_HhjqMrEh3F5Oi2Sl4hEBrXW1RBrTc0aLijZrgf5JPPy0vE7S5clVURovVeVecnP981eO3VMfp0sITfmKDQRTwrlGWtajYSnyysdN7O6iJ1/s320/throw_down.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Anyhow, here are a few more sets I made.... Idk... these are the things I think of.....<br />
<div style="height: 600px; position: relative; width: 600px;"><a href="http://www.polyvore.com/heart_seattle/set?.embedder=3379792&.svc=copypaste&id=43930025"><img alt="I heart Seattle!" border="0" height="600" src="http://embed.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-set/cid/43930025/id/YbEwg-HRR5ePdSBA3mUEQQ/size/y.jpg" title="I heart Seattle!" width="600" /></a></div><small><a href="http://www.polyvore.com/heart_seattle/set?.embedder=3379792&.svc=copypaste&id=43930025">I heart Seattle!</a> by <a href="http://desimadeline.polyvore.com/?.embedder=3379792&.svc=copypaste">desimadeline</a> </small><br />
<br />
<div></div><div style="height: 600px; position: relative; width: 600px;"><a href="http://www.polyvore.com/prada_2012/set?.embedder=3379792&.svc=copypaste&id=43926439"><img alt="Prada 2012" border="0" height="600" src="http://embed.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-set/cid/43926439/id/nRXNxpzMR1i8Rpogyx2P-Q/size/y.jpg" title="Prada 2012" width="600" /></a></div><br />
<div><br />
<small>Well....</small><br />
<small>onto sad things for a second. I ended my 7 month-or-so relationship with someone very special to me. It was a hard decision, but my mind is evolving and changing, for a much healthier and positive glow, I bought a knitting kit and new sketch book today, maybe try to dial up the pubescent-version-of-me and get some tips on creativity, ya know.</small><br />
<br />
<small>This might sound crazy, but for as long as I can remember, I have been an onycophogist, (sp?) AKA a nail-biter. I am effin 26 years old, and finally have stopped biting them. Crazy. I think I'll have to try my hand at gradation-painted nails... oh all those hep-cats are doin' it these days, le sigh.</small><br />
<br />
<small>Okay okay, I am off to knit. Be forewarned; pics of gradation nails and too-much-knitting are to be posted soon, I am sure. </small><br />
<br />
<small>ta ta for now</small></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-25199424706716797842011-06-04T03:25:00.000-07:002011-06-04T03:25:21.561-07:00Current Obsessions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">1. Giving the girls a great summer. Lots of swimming and triple-digits weather. I am lobster-colored. The kds approve.<br />
<br />
2. Glee. Best show ever. No question mark implied or neccessary. It is like crack to me and often I fall asleep to Hulu slowly fading in the distance...and it's playing the cheerful end credits. I approve. <br />
I should note fantasizing about a certain Jewish-teen-aged-(-ish) coreographed-crooning-football-playing-mowhawk-andvarsity-jacket-clad cast member of Glee might be a bit frowned upon..but if liking Puckerman is wrong...well.. you know the rest of that saying. Plus, he was a great distraction for the two-week-long (yet seeming like infinity x eternity) absense of my beloved Canucks....<br />
<br />
3. Drawing. I have some grand series of doodles I am considering putting together in a project entitled "My long-distance relationship/affection for Bellingham, and/or local advertisements that ought to be". Stay tuned.<br />
<br />
4. Journey. Summer music. Those two things are each other, but Summer music alone is an entirely separate thing. So however many combinations of music, summer, and Journey there are.... I'll take one of each, por favor.<br />
<br />
5. Ansestry.com. <br />
The above has consumed me, really, at times. It started with a simple "proof", if you will, that the legend I have heard my entire 25 years that I am part Cherokee, is indeed true. Who knew how deep and twisted that rabbithole went. When everything is decipherable or at least generally easy-to-read without eons of studying it, I will add the link.<br />
<br />
More obsessions to come.<br />
<br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-58464306067882199132011-05-25T07:05:00.000-07:002011-05-25T07:05:17.757-07:00By beloved B'ham...2053 miles away<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygHKEyre2SsFXKZg_wX5xnm_1xJy8Zld24u403-OS_wnYCqQWJBTJz4rjl6FQtx0-NndONsLaeFAsFKj3-M2225BnTeV3CMVmcLqf6C-lwkR5IthklEU6AeQd6AjNYJzrcBGw5ML1u-8F/s1600/0119111056.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygHKEyre2SsFXKZg_wX5xnm_1xJy8Zld24u403-OS_wnYCqQWJBTJz4rjl6FQtx0-NndONsLaeFAsFKj3-M2225BnTeV3CMVmcLqf6C-lwkR5IthklEU6AeQd6AjNYJzrcBGw5ML1u-8F/s400/0119111056.jpg" /></a> </div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipRD2Ttq2rGlN0hqcPvT-4hCsC2ego51YVaMhuAzefgDky-aAhTc_NO9eD4CXSj-7n_Tac4vjw3AN2ERMGpAkz5IN6AXWlxmkEVH8_ZFKL4g2GJ4ylxq468F3s0RF1DdsjkRXy3J-hNeJH/s1600/0118111556.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipRD2Ttq2rGlN0hqcPvT-4hCsC2ego51YVaMhuAzefgDky-aAhTc_NO9eD4CXSj-7n_Tac4vjw3AN2ERMGpAkz5IN6AXWlxmkEVH8_ZFKL4g2GJ4ylxq468F3s0RF1DdsjkRXy3J-hNeJH/s400/0118111556.jpg" /></a> </div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdcGKUv9JFYf6dZp8f4fbVkTwCbY1QnwOlNO70SzGMatRMcxQzFPqaIhywcOmAEOjDeys6F2jaRHiD3-hEyUVud15C5ewXoU5wlIutw1otVbysmtiekI0LsT8UNKN4jLSEDxpVQhbQyAP/s1600/0118111419a.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdcGKUv9JFYf6dZp8f4fbVkTwCbY1QnwOlNO70SzGMatRMcxQzFPqaIhywcOmAEOjDeys6F2jaRHiD3-hEyUVud15C5ewXoU5wlIutw1otVbysmtiekI0LsT8UNKN4jLSEDxpVQhbQyAP/s400/0118111419a.jpg" /></a> </div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Dr83ziFGlRxsQxAl8Atf0LFKJiFLdetuMGxwSzQ8yvOFpb2J3_ojwZkPX8CoSUplG_8uoboCj3zuv5DhCHv2vsGTa098n7h69DQ8qO2dmrCwnNCvFufA4I7MlZAo-6OSVpebS86ezRhn/s1600/0112111253.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Dr83ziFGlRxsQxAl8Atf0LFKJiFLdetuMGxwSzQ8yvOFpb2J3_ojwZkPX8CoSUplG_8uoboCj3zuv5DhCHv2vsGTa098n7h69DQ8qO2dmrCwnNCvFufA4I7MlZAo-6OSVpebS86ezRhn/s400/0112111253.jpg" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img align="middle" alt="Posted by Picasa" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" style="-moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" /></a></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-39910919947263757342011-05-22T20:21:00.000-07:002011-05-22T20:21:37.833-07:00Classic Hollywood Romance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">I guess by now I could consider good ol' fashioned Hollywood romance to be the kind we haven't seen since the 90s.<br />
I mean, what happened to those quintessential quirky, head-over-heels in love, dangerous perhaps, erratic and insane definately, sometimes, actually often, they were outlandish outlaws, and always looked fucking amazing. Razor sharp tongues and something a bit un-settling about them, perhaps. I haven't seen a movie with these things since in it in a long, long while.<br />
<br />
<u>My</u> <u>favorites</u>:<br />
<br />
Wild at Heart<br />
<br />
Buffalo 66<br />
<br />
True Romance<br />
<br />
Arizona Dream<br />
<br />
Love and a .45<br />
<br />
Drugstore Cowboy<br />
<br />
Natural Born Killers<br />
<br />
Interview with a Vampire<br />
<br />
I know I am missin a ton.....<br />
<br />
maybe I'll think of em later. I'm already too busy and distracted thinking of the next Nux game which WHEN we win will send us to the Stanley Cup Finals. That'll be a next blog post I am sure, lol. </div><br />
<a href="http://localhost:54079/2ff706c560a43a688e3613cf15e2862d/image/14ba6930cc9ad27f.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="http://localhost:54079/2ff706c560a43a688e3613cf15e2862d/image/14ba6930cc9ad27f.jpg?size=400" width="640" /></a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-54876850332396389632011-05-16T12:21:00.000-07:002011-05-25T08:44:48.661-07:00Nightmares, dreams, and reality..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1udDNghl-ZyDgHMTpuYimerPta9iFgOpDol3MrzOXpZlc2hHlKstFlepXUBG3MT3rsV6RPFp27bQj7aFyPdCXVVadZXitjbeqtm9XLeR9BQ4dtSCMPX_vEjfhTOMXxTa2_m6N6bBUAUUi/s1600/VancouverSkyline.jpg"></a></div><br />
Let's start with nightmares....<br />
<br />
<strong>Nightmare</strong>-<br />
<br />
I was attacked by the Gorgona, AKA the Grecian mythological creature that boasted the likes of Medusa, i.e. Snakes for hair, sea-living creature, bloodshot eyes, scary as hell, etc......<br />
Couldn't get away from her. And it ruined an otherwise glorious dream about the Isle of Crete, dammit!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHZ2vMfty_MJ7Of8zJvPzHAFgNhgCFsR5W2ZPdM7Qnyh1icaGF-5nMq1ninPfuzr1WEUveJWJ6CMtQbxMcmSPImVgAA1aJndRV4NaIe2SCMCF7QdJRt29m-T-KTsp2PGksAPSYZCey8ik1/s1600/gorgona+medusa.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHZ2vMfty_MJ7Of8zJvPzHAFgNhgCFsR5W2ZPdM7Qnyh1icaGF-5nMq1ninPfuzr1WEUveJWJ6CMtQbxMcmSPImVgAA1aJndRV4NaIe2SCMCF7QdJRt29m-T-KTsp2PGksAPSYZCey8ik1/s640/gorgona+medusa.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medusa, Gorgona, scary bitch</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><br />
<br />
<strong>Reality-</strong><br />
<br />
Vancouver Canucks WILL win Lord Stanley of Preston's Cup this year. <em>My </em>Henrik perhaps set the tone for the twins in this Series 3 with San Jose with his goal last night, and note to Thornton; Kesler ain't scared of ya, 25lbs or not. lol. 'NUCK YEAH<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhGw_drDGu1IhHBepzfINP3sQNIN5m3lcv5ciJr2aygAl5wQdpZNxpyM_C7XfeG7IZbDZpeKjiVgdiTl70vcNsKhcPuiWmsXuC2uC11UWqB09Zg-zm2qEiOlPE4OftJ5liSyH2JKw_r3hS/s1600/VancouverSkyline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhGw_drDGu1IhHBepzfINP3sQNIN5m3lcv5ciJr2aygAl5wQdpZNxpyM_C7XfeG7IZbDZpeKjiVgdiTl70vcNsKhcPuiWmsXuC2uC11UWqB09Zg-zm2qEiOlPE4OftJ5liSyH2JKw_r3hS/s640/VancouverSkyline.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vancouver skyline at night *swoon*</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<strong>Dream-</strong><br />
<br />
I had a dream about having AMAZING sex last night. Like wow, adrenaline rush, turns-your-stomach, uninhibited, show-off, ride-'em-cowgirl crazy amazing sex. In a hotel room. In WA state. And my teeth were like perfect and white. And I was in better shape. And I had thigh-high totally-cliche stockings on....<br />
In this year. But.... with my uber-precocious, pseudo-hipster, fuck-face of an ex... for those who have known me that long the initials SP will mean something to you ha ha. Asshole extraordinaire. He did have huge...brown gorgeous eyes, however. Lol. I''ve just been abstinent a while now. That's all this means I reassure myself.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9i5voqSQt9AqsXvOfZ9mj4dkhwtATDqGugwVezF3nboVWAaldgeBiTWPfuo_GkPu9uTE1ItV4Ha90b0QmBZqVEgodMjtqoBYasAKiSDtgp42QwGje9Z88J3x5d_FCrrwQrMj33nhdqOFZ/s1600/romance.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9i5voqSQt9AqsXvOfZ9mj4dkhwtATDqGugwVezF3nboVWAaldgeBiTWPfuo_GkPu9uTE1ItV4Ha90b0QmBZqVEgodMjtqoBYasAKiSDtgp42QwGje9Z88J3x5d_FCrrwQrMj33nhdqOFZ/s640/romance.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh my my sexiness is in the eye of the beholder/masochist..</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img align="middle" alt="Posted by Picasa" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" style="-moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" /></a></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-90880353481055806502011-05-06T23:09:00.000-07:002011-05-06T23:14:21.421-07:00Silver Lake Fantasy... you gimme cabin-fever lol<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJHDkZmc8bzS7TQmVGfgmVPCI8-Kk3iPmTMm5LHUNiE7_IxNmQe93G9BMHFxVEGTlVhz7o2isxcTSMywC0VUtRR-5yVhwi3f3H3oaAi5q_Z7lpfOKV_H-UA2aKpal0KMNdvVeGK8jeyOp/s1600/apron+lake2.jpg"></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><br />
<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYgDsbhz4aHFauH1kNO_v3Y7L4Va0H1kW7F6b71KxukXUMcceRqq3ZvkqZ4JsqkrdKqjTgMaTA8DYJxVKTdpd9C6VHFhy8wzrkPDJAJqRiQK587YfhTN0rj18n_wR4nqSVOV7KXsUbICEu/s1600/apron+lake3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="479" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYgDsbhz4aHFauH1kNO_v3Y7L4Va0H1kW7F6b71KxukXUMcceRqq3ZvkqZ4JsqkrdKqjTgMaTA8DYJxVKTdpd9C6VHFhy8wzrkPDJAJqRiQK587YfhTN0rj18n_wR4nqSVOV7KXsUbICEu/s640/apron+lake3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Silver Lake, WA</td></tr>
</tbody></table> </div><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoBCLGI9OlviRcTfSc6RM-KbBzwk11oE0EvT4mxdZEZtmr8u3LGKqi-kaMVCbCNSNc6vRh9-AGiB9VKEpMS5qnhILCK9kKOmM5RIpbaD2VxfWzkh6YKZMh5XYHvE60GYuF31Re5pWh_VRs/s1600/apron+lake.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="479" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoBCLGI9OlviRcTfSc6RM-KbBzwk11oE0EvT4mxdZEZtmr8u3LGKqi-kaMVCbCNSNc6vRh9-AGiB9VKEpMS5qnhILCK9kKOmM5RIpbaD2VxfWzkh6YKZMh5XYHvE60GYuF31Re5pWh_VRs/s640/apron+lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crystal clear mornings perfect for kayaking...and Obsidian coffee-drinking next to</td></tr>
</tbody></table> </div><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjauy0OUREOwtwyx2gkq7ljbU_cA-KknN6OSqRL-oxhdHibtR1V-OUN2c3TEHSiBdcDJ574AaMmzvbfw3VaqkmnI8qebPnfApukBBJQvvFjzHY-JJhf69VMzqa4rZbJRxYA1xVLWrgw1TLu/s1600/apron+cabin+silver+lake.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="479" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjauy0OUREOwtwyx2gkq7ljbU_cA-KknN6OSqRL-oxhdHibtR1V-OUN2c3TEHSiBdcDJ574AaMmzvbfw3VaqkmnI8qebPnfApukBBJQvvFjzHY-JJhf69VMzqa4rZbJRxYA1xVLWrgw1TLu/s640/apron+cabin+silver+lake.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabin at Silver Lake. They are amazing and serve for great cooking, cuddling, and other great things that start with a "c" I guess</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPkt_2hjzqa_3FmRylnhIm-7u_ioh0rGVO0u_aNTuU4rPHyyiMZb4W272q0jgm0YyZgr07DTJkJ7Px9ew3N7G8PVRhnQtKotQTH2AX6sbHissu3fHB3oliSN0QPa5ACL483mxEMSEDTXZ8/s1600/aproncabinbed.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPkt_2hjzqa_3FmRylnhIm-7u_ioh0rGVO0u_aNTuU4rPHyyiMZb4W272q0jgm0YyZgr07DTJkJ7Px9ew3N7G8PVRhnQtKotQTH2AX6sbHissu3fHB3oliSN0QPa5ACL483mxEMSEDTXZ8/s640/aproncabinbed.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh the romance, even a thru and thru city girl, can enjoy this with the right person, and location</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKstf8rT9Hzi5-Eh4BEHm_lSM8MZotMuvf3XSuFpO7IhCqQl2Dna7vCogVsPlGgU8Ups98fZnEOI3EDjAz4OYYzT7sy5ZhokJIH6PQFwTNnIzeCq_R0Pb7Cm_rv63RH4ukBXcxoGVRoNPD/s1600/apron+wine.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKstf8rT9Hzi5-Eh4BEHm_lSM8MZotMuvf3XSuFpO7IhCqQl2Dna7vCogVsPlGgU8Ups98fZnEOI3EDjAz4OYYzT7sy5ZhokJIH6PQFwTNnIzeCq_R0Pb7Cm_rv63RH4ukBXcxoGVRoNPD/s640/apron+wine.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This hypothetical romantic trip of mine would include some great Washington Wine, but of course</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfSzohx1oO_jgJymXtZ3ucmcLsUxPRh78YnK3XSDX3PB5cNEnNP0rEG71PKfE-oPYN377WA12Tdbfi1iVxG580uURXWHJap-ykQYBkzng8QYDg-PFIjdJvHGT1tYwNGgB6FIcBzO5tIOUe/s1600/apron+wine+country.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfSzohx1oO_jgJymXtZ3ucmcLsUxPRh78YnK3XSDX3PB5cNEnNP0rEG71PKfE-oPYN377WA12Tdbfi1iVxG580uURXWHJap-ykQYBkzng8QYDg-PFIjdJvHGT1tYwNGgB6FIcBzO5tIOUe/s640/apron+wine+country.jpg" width="322" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poster from Washington's Wine Festival</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcXg8aYDMaBMwzX2o0D3dIzPxhFId1F2q1z35A-vbwuUZOR2BV6y9364F697MZdEtdz7zQxioaoZFGe0no7zfBfLu7Ptq0IfHUw8u8I-C1EhY6THvFD6kdxMIjnTRDIoTsmuLMt6RmX8Tv/s1600/apronsalmon.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcXg8aYDMaBMwzX2o0D3dIzPxhFId1F2q1z35A-vbwuUZOR2BV6y9364F697MZdEtdz7zQxioaoZFGe0no7zfBfLu7Ptq0IfHUw8u8I-C1EhY6THvFD6kdxMIjnTRDIoTsmuLMt6RmX8Tv/s640/apronsalmon.jpg" width="479" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How we would dine on local salmon, the only seafood I'll eat</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkwWDORPrRbBsJPPDcyUkv29ZohmE4-uhVBLxJZIB5qdArrUTR4QvMcf5xs9-s7bgG6RL08ZY3M-cS5130cmTYeSPD2g_pTT4JiOGM2FDh1aV8UKr1ExYgiL8AA3cpC_awqYn6Ze_OHwS/s1600/apronpotatoes.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkwWDORPrRbBsJPPDcyUkv29ZohmE4-uhVBLxJZIB5qdArrUTR4QvMcf5xs9-s7bgG6RL08ZY3M-cS5130cmTYeSPD2g_pTT4JiOGM2FDh1aV8UKr1ExYgiL8AA3cpC_awqYn6Ze_OHwS/s640/apronpotatoes.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And you can make your roasted potatoes, so good, if you do say so yourself, lol</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-KxpaWK7u3K5aIftoTByiHDiaMEZpPXbP4cO9M6YBU1iwVAEXU9Jl20pcp9Z4AGCO2YcKBISqyVedm9GmKUdFJxUkUbINoXij8qhu9muRo08SHpDYafzq6bChCDcov9YKx6DOI9KvxaC/s1600/apron+bowls2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-KxpaWK7u3K5aIftoTByiHDiaMEZpPXbP4cO9M6YBU1iwVAEXU9Jl20pcp9Z4AGCO2YcKBISqyVedm9GmKUdFJxUkUbINoXij8qhu9muRo08SHpDYafzq6bChCDcov9YKx6DOI9KvxaC/s400/apron+bowls2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Any fantasy of mine that involves such great surroundings and food, would have to include my undying love for whimsical vintage mixing bowls.....</td></tr>
</tbody></table> </div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjohteAwAjhkdRkLi2Z3d1DCjsojYqeaHY7DPaGuUhiPqp_ApAB6BBWbmTeaes1iEl242f4BzyOy8t1txrLAKdQu_jlVeH_0vgFm7e8y2Le8RejsjMrnEB6kV0IiDizUZAQ5MBLP8g-yeVE/s1600/apron+bowls3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjohteAwAjhkdRkLi2Z3d1DCjsojYqeaHY7DPaGuUhiPqp_ApAB6BBWbmTeaes1iEl242f4BzyOy8t1txrLAKdQu_jlVeH_0vgFm7e8y2Le8RejsjMrnEB6kV0IiDizUZAQ5MBLP8g-yeVE/s400/apron+bowls3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh Pyrex, how I love thee...</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_iTeLCz3oUBEBtaHHz7SAxz1B7qLtCFkRsCi2YdVu21PSUEmAeZSodpuSghDZ-1XFOhfoSKczL907hgKxl4AbpPR_TEKImWEhtuCsFrcqsYCWma0xWah-LWwx6uUw4CLkMb_wc19OZ2XZ/s1600/apron+shoes+3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_iTeLCz3oUBEBtaHHz7SAxz1B7qLtCFkRsCi2YdVu21PSUEmAeZSodpuSghDZ-1XFOhfoSKczL907hgKxl4AbpPR_TEKImWEhtuCsFrcqsYCWma0xWah-LWwx6uUw4CLkMb_wc19OZ2XZ/s400/apron+shoes+3.jpg" width="346" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can I not wear these 2011 beauties camping?</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmikx_T0Lrc1bToZrryxs_YjN2amrWzZE_vECkIcQZA0PNCAibKzCJCSxWJTT5QxyvDWDocEMuvLW5z7os3UXOzhTYZvgN08iTMzfRMYw31HeW2xCrP_1FKHvDPi3sMH-pQGPf3ZcTOgnT/s1600/apron+shoes.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmikx_T0Lrc1bToZrryxs_YjN2amrWzZE_vECkIcQZA0PNCAibKzCJCSxWJTT5QxyvDWDocEMuvLW5z7os3UXOzhTYZvgN08iTMzfRMYw31HeW2xCrP_1FKHvDPi3sMH-pQGPf3ZcTOgnT/s320/apron+shoes.jpg" width="312" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even if we have a cabin....with a level floor?</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjxJYZoWLuYKaTXkweSLgBq6MNyiEBkEkgyz2ddtaXV3SKON1RjbR8lGXDrqPx-eaOYNV9KSSRYmer0bbijkxmhUkGLo6UA4nR713LohoS5vRPCcC75afg282CqADh-4oH_xamx4TU7wq/s1600/apron+necklace.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjxJYZoWLuYKaTXkweSLgBq6MNyiEBkEkgyz2ddtaXV3SKON1RjbR8lGXDrqPx-eaOYNV9KSSRYmer0bbijkxmhUkGLo6UA4nR713LohoS5vRPCcC75afg282CqADh-4oH_xamx4TU7wq/s1600/apron+necklace.bmp" /></a></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">All in all.....I use this as my escape mentally, from Oklahome.Because, my dear, there are so many reasons why my heart belongs to Washington ;)</div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img align="middle" alt="Posted by Picasa" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" style="-moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" /></a></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06396313716517325639noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8500713687475034695.post-45164258931099959562011-05-04T19:08:00.000-07:002011-05-06T23:17:43.075-07:00Doodles n Such<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6PTURIvhkyAEHJlgYVB9oDSua_5-xPqkHEzQczJEMvQbKYiDElW51yc-y47wCYeyozrnCFZktr_FDqokAFyYC8Gm94T7GpMzMgPFj45k2wu63bp8iyFjavUpgYIFoTVNrRH0RJRFr-5Q0/s1600/IMG_2476.JPG"></a>Some of my art from 2009-Current. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfKxiZkep0KVuf4j87REC0HihCHrBn6bCMAoQQpcKaGOqVi-1zKULZSV3sRCXIiflNKS676chIqvUhOzj2xhDUXKzhZUkxi_38jpyN84Tq5oSv2UkWbLXqQ_YTtcLmWZR961uslrIBcPRq/s1600/IMG_2522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfKxiZkep0KVuf4j87REC0HihCHrBn6bCMAoQQpcKaGOqVi-1zKULZSV3sRCXIiflNKS676chIqvUhOzj2xhDUXKzhZUkxi_38jpyN84Tq5oSv2UkWbLXqQ_YTtcLmWZR961uslrIBcPRq/s640/IMG_2522.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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