tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42946244062046327182024-03-13T08:48:47.223-07:00Cherry Blossom GirlDevonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-87157380975033779162009-06-09T15:37:00.000-07:002009-06-09T18:12:53.209-07:00The things that make us kindredFriendships are made of:<br /><br />A familiar smile<br />An inside joke that is still as funny as the first time<br />Memories, new and old<br />Growing into new people with the same fondness for one another<br />Lots of alcohol<br />Moments of silence where nothing needs to be said<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/Si8IVnbilzI/AAAAAAAAAUA/qadFxE2BWLI/s1600-h/PP1000947.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/Si8IVnbilzI/AAAAAAAAAUA/qadFxE2BWLI/s320/PP1000947.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345500450166839090" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/Si8FU7aK6rI/AAAAAAAAATw/sAqlDYtEzZ4/s1600-h/PP1000930.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/Si8FU7aK6rI/AAAAAAAAATw/sAqlDYtEzZ4/s320/PP1000930.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345497139815049906" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/Si8FURLGCjI/AAAAAAAAATo/Njb8YZHRgU8/s1600-h/PP1000828.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/Si8FURLGCjI/AAAAAAAAATo/Njb8YZHRgU8/s320/PP1000828.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345497128477526578" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/Si8FUNOckuI/AAAAAAAAATg/P8shQlWVBPA/s1600-h/PP1000830.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/Si8FUNOckuI/AAAAAAAAATg/P8shQlWVBPA/s320/PP1000830.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345497127417844450" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/Si7m3ezDK_I/AAAAAAAAATY/3WNA_GfN3oc/s1600-h/PP1000820.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/Si7m3ezDK_I/AAAAAAAAATY/3WNA_GfN3oc/s320/PP1000820.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345463648569732082" border="0" /></a>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-1845548630456247472009-05-27T16:18:00.000-07:002009-05-27T16:39:23.736-07:00Today when I was out and about, I saw a fanny pack. Yes, folks, it was a real, live, fanny pack. Those immoral things from the 80's complete with a buckle to fit on...well...your fanny. I never understood the draw to wear a fanny pack. It's not as comfortable as a belt and actually, due to gravity, probably works to pull your pants down instead of holding them up. It's like the backpack's white-trash cousin with less room for junk in the trunk. It's right up there with scrunchies and pink yard flamingos. I think I actually gasped in horror when I saw it round the corner in the grocery isle.<br /><br />My father used to have a fanny pack that had space for 2 water bottles flanked on each side. He used to take it hiking and I as a child about hip-height, this thing would swing back and forth on his hips with his stride making maneuvering around him on the trail almost impossible. I could see the clear trail ahead but on every other pace that he took this pack would swing its bottles in my face and threaten a black eye. He would pack this thing like we were going to be stranded for days out in the wilderness and heft it up around his wast like he was bench pressing 100 pounds.<br /><br />The thing most ironic about the fanny pack is that women will often carry a purse with it. So, I'm guessing they have the fanny pack just as an accessory? Maybe they carry their scrunchies in it.Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-73714783858701449622009-05-12T20:04:00.000-07:002009-05-12T20:17:03.322-07:00Am I an annual?Every other spring I am exited and anticipating the summer. This year, there is a hesitancy in my being. I both love and hate how entwined I am with the seasons. Fall: I am in love with the colors, the long lingering summer days, and the last warm rays I soak up with my bare skin. Winter: I hibernate, sleep way too much, cook lots of warm stews, and hide out under blankets trying to warm my fingers with tea and bourbon. Spring: Normally I can't wait to be outside all day, my fingers stained with dirt before I realize dinner time has come and gone and it's still really too cold to be acting as though it's summer. Summer is my prime: happy all day, face turned upward and smiling straight into the sun; big heavy sighs of the flower's purfumes; berries, berries, berries! It can be exausting being so connected to Mother Nature. But this year...<br /><br />I dont' know what this hestiancy is quite yet. I feel restless and antsy. I feel my body and soul calling me away from here. Is it May? I feel this endless lingering feeling, and it's not just the season.<br /><br />If you wake up and I am gone: I've gone south for the sake of my blood.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">but</span>, but, <span style="font-size:180%;">BUT</span>:<br /><br />Could I actually leave? My roots, although delicate and not withstanding the harsh winter are firm and tender. Soul: please give me an answer or SHUT THE HELL UP!!!Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-65056488861930293492009-02-10T11:07:00.001-08:002009-02-10T11:24:34.506-08:00Let's take some time off<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">There is a bounce in my step today. It is only 11AM and I have already accomplished much. Ahh, how good productivity feels! Once all the "to-do" items get checks, on to more soulful work: I am promising myself to paint tonight. But first to share with you my most recent:</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SZHRMhA3lHI/AAAAAAAAANA/O9xyLVmesxM/s1600-h/Jolene%27s+painting.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SZHRMhA3lHI/AAAAAAAAANA/O9xyLVmesxM/s400/Jolene%27s+painting.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301248249342432370" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">This was a gift to my sister for Christmas. I am rather pleased with it.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">I got am email from Jason with the subject line: "let's take some time off". Oh, that's music to my ears. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Time off, time off. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Only last year I had all the time off in the world. Not now. But now is better. I don't thrive under the absence of structure - the motivation to get up and shower every day and fix my hair. So, where should we go on our time off? To Mexico, you say? How about Paris? I've always wanted to backpack Central America this time of year - I hear it's lovely. Oh, right. My wallet reminds me: Must stay close. That's ok,</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;"> le sigh</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">, perhaps next year. Time off anywhere with my love is time well spent anyway, I shouldn't be greedy.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Some rather fun news I must share: I, Devon Gregory, am the new wedding consultant at Caruh! That's right! I have a pamphlet all my own that opens up with my name in bold:</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Devon Gregory</span><br />Caruh Wedding Consultant<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">(<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Just in case you couldn't visualize it! ;-) </span>)<br /><br /></span>This was my marketing idea for myself, and the boss loved it! Hoorah! My first "wedding show" is Saturday the 21st at Lululemon in University Village. Tell one and all (brides, that is)!<br /></div></div><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Well, dear friends, the next item on my "to-do" list is calling, must attend to it!</span>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-19705866173666511352009-01-27T14:51:00.000-08:002009-01-27T15:31:35.382-08:00The VetToday I took Harley to an veterinarian orthopedic surgeon. Who knew these kinds of people even existed? Harley is a pain in the ass. You can never take him anywhere in the car because the entire time he whines like something is grabbing him by the balls and squeezing with all their might. He even howls. I get so frustrated that by the time we get to our destination, passers-by think I'm the most horrible pet owner in the world and don't love my "handsome, so sweet" puppy as I bark orders at him. If only they knew. And if only they knew what I was about to find out.<br /><br />We go into the vet reception area and check in. "So handsome!" All the receptionists coo, as my right arm is being ripped out of my socket and the contents of my purse are being flung everywhere. We sit in the metal chairs in the waiting area and I attempt to get Harley to sit. For sanitary purposes, I understand why they have linoleum on the floors, but with an 80 pound puppy, I think it's the most idiotic idea ever. Undoubtedly, every time I wait in the vet lobby with Harley, one of two things happen: 1) Just as I'm settling in and get him to sit, another dog or cat enters the reception area. He bolts to meet this new potential friend and I go flying. He has actually dragged my seated ass across the entire waiting area before. Or, 2) I loosen my grip to reach for a treat to entice him to sit, and he bolts out of my hands, goes slamming into the poor sick kitty in the carrier and all over their unexpecting owner. To which they give me the death stare that says "You evil person! Why would you own a dog if you can't control him? Now Mr. Scribbles here is so freaked it will take weeks to get him out of this carrier and it's all your fault!" I hang my head in shame and hope the nurse is stronger that I am. They're usually not.<br /><br />It's at this point they usually give us a room that we wait in for quite some time. But this vet's room had a door that was split in half and they only closed the bottom half, which was just out of reach of Harley's sight and all the more enticing to try to look over. Trying not to look like a crazed, mean owner, I tried my best to get him to calm down. The nurse, still cooing over him as he's trying to use her as a ladder to escape the room, handed me all kinds of forms and information on ACL tears in animals. I'm supposed to have read over and know all this information by the time the vet arrives, but given that everyone on the entire block can hear my screaming pup, I opt to sit on the floor with him, petting and praising him just to make him shut up. Thinking that if my husband where here, he would point out how dirty the floor is. But, I don't think about that and just try to calm Harley down.<br /><br />So, not only is this room filled with smells of other animals most likely in distress and I'm guessing they put out a different odor that says "you're in trouble! Be the worst you can be and your owner will have to take you home on account of possibly getting imprisoned for bad training!", and the half door that's more enticing than a dripping piece of steak, there's also a window which people are walking by on. Now, the only thing my dog can't stand more than ridding in the back of a car, is seeing people walking that he can't go great personally. At one point, I wondered if dogs could get hernias from whining.<br /><br />About 20 minutes of this - just enough time to thoroughly stress Harley out, and enters the vet. To which Harley jumps on, and to which the vet wasn't so enthusiastic as his bimbo receptionists. We look at the x-rays, which have been crushed en route, and he feels his leg. Yes, a torn ligament. Yes, surgery. Yes, the more expensive one. Yes, it could happen again. That's really all the information I would gather since Harley is continuing to whine excessively and the vet is trying to give me all these terms and a 101 course on knee joints while I can't hear over my screaming dog. But, that's all the information I really needed.<br /><br />So, we venture back out into the obsitcal course or a reception area. We pass another room with the lower half of the door closed and a husband and wife are quietly sitting with their silent, seated collie. They look at me being drug out the door with a look that says "You poor, son of a bitch." The only good idea this place has is there's a hook to tie your dog's leash too on the coutner so you can have all hands free to pay the enormous sum of money the vet is charging me to tell me something I already know. But, this just means more leash in which to tie himself and me up in. At one point, I think there wasn't a free leg on either of us that wasn't entangled in his leash in one way or another. The receptionists coo. The word "treat" is mentioned and there went the 80 pounds of hyper dog over the counter and into all their papers. Oops. "You said it, not me" was the look I'm sure I had on my face. Back in the car and another 30 minute drive of howling dog.<br /><br />At one point I started thinking, is this really worth it? By the time it's all said and done, we will have shelled out $5,000 for this whining, destructive, smelly dog. As I look in my rear view mirror at Harley chocking himself on the seat in front of him just to get a better look at the car next to us, which has turned his whines into abbreviated gasping sounds, I really start to question this. Then we get home and every time I get up, his ears perk, his eyes follow my every move, his tail wags, and follows me faithfully around, never leaving my side. He comes next to the couch, sits down on my feet and with those eyes never leaving mine, lays his soft warm head in my lap. But I'm never going to the vet alone again.Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-33105352795550278242009-01-27T14:47:00.000-08:002009-01-27T14:51:09.823-08:00WinterThe days are short and dark. My fingers never get warm. I stare outside in the gray abyss and loose my thoughts. I have been doing _______ ??? for hours. The dishes still need to be washed, the floors still need sweeping. My love is far away and I am alone. My days run into one another and I loose track of time. This dismal season has captured me and taken me prisoner.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">One day, soon again, I will feel the warm sun on my face and the breeze on my bare legs.</span></span>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-22393088502181493242008-11-05T21:18:00.000-08:002008-11-05T21:33:37.329-08:00Beautiful DeathI have been enthralled with the autumn colors as of late. The rich reds, deep yellows, piercing oranges. They can move me to tears. But it occurred to me the other day: this beauty I love so much is caused by death. Not the death of the entire tree of course, but that of the leaves themselves. The tree sheds the leaves in order to save up its energy for the long winter ahead. It can't go on living and support its leaves at the same time.<br /><br />I found this interesting in comparing it to my own life. I feel a "death" coming on of sorts. Or, at least I am hoping for one. The death of my anger. My insecurity. The lashing out of things in me that is "otherly". Things in me that need to be brought to the grave and buried in order for the source of my nourishment, my growth, to continue on and live to see another spring. But, in order for me to live on, I need to recognize the signs telling me to shed those parts of me that will only cost me my life. The nights getting longer, the day cooler. So, as I enter this valley of winter, I will try to drop my leaves, seeking inner nourishment for the time ahead. And I think it will be beautiful.Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-44288231612146790602008-10-26T13:31:00.000-07:002008-10-26T13:43:01.948-07:00Shout-out to my hubby<div style="text-align: center;">When Jason leaves on a trip, I miss him something fierce right away. This time is no exception. After taking him to the airport at the wee hours of the morning, I went home and back to bed. Still to awake and turn over to his cold side of the bed that was warm with him a few hours before. I think it's in these moments of longing and of my heart stretching in pain that I realize how much I love him and how much I have. Here are a few that I think about:<br /><br />I love kissing his temple and smelling his skin and hair<br />I love laying next to him, wrapped up like a fragile package<br />I love when he walks in the door at the end of the day, sleeves rolled up and hair a little less perfect from the long day<br />I love the smell of his shirts after he's worn them<br />I love finding his notes to himself throughout the day<br />I love the sweet text messages he sends me as he's going to bed in a far away hotel<br />I love his goofiness and spaziness in the morning after he's taken a shower<br />I love when he lies on top of me and the weight encompasses me<br />I love coming home to him<br />I love making dinner for him<br />I love being loved by him<br /><br />My dear, sweet husband: Come home to me soon. I miss you.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SQTV-9hzOMI/AAAAAAAAAHg/j_0DnplzHKU/s1600-h/CIMG2395.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 145px; height: 218px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SQTV-9hzOMI/AAAAAAAAAHg/j_0DnplzHKU/s200/CIMG2395.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261565542320519362" border="0" /></a></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-89013421001028976632008-10-15T10:50:00.000-07:002008-10-15T11:12:51.463-07:00(Business?) Trip<div style="text-align: center;">A weekend in San Francisco:<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SPYvJqatG5I/AAAAAAAAAGw/slz0PrlSb0I/s1600-h/CIMG2902.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 135px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SPYvJqatG5I/AAAAAAAAAGw/slz0PrlSb0I/s200/CIMG2902.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257441458053258130" border="0" /></a><br />Fleet Week flying over the bay<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SPYvKLSX7UI/AAAAAAAAAG4/x8NPmVrzwhw/s1600-h/CIMG2918.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SPYvKLSX7UI/AAAAAAAAAG4/x8NPmVrzwhw/s200/CIMG2918.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257441466876685634" border="0" /></a><br />Blue Angles from on top of Alcatraz<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SPYvKv8i_JI/AAAAAAAAAHA/ChF7jORY6g4/s1600-h/CIMG2934.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SPYvKv8i_JI/AAAAAAAAAHA/ChF7jORY6g4/s200/CIMG2934.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257441476717247634" border="0" /></a><br />Cute little trees from our view<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SPYvLHVMF2I/AAAAAAAAAHI/Db_IiwMmR3g/s1600-h/CIMG2935.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 179px; height: 133px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SPYvLHVMF2I/AAAAAAAAAHI/Db_IiwMmR3g/s200/CIMG2935.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257441482994620258" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Amazingly large succulents on Alcatraz<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SPYv14wS6nI/AAAAAAAAAHY/dT7Ui1rUPq0/s1600-h/CIMG2958.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SPYv14wS6nI/AAAAAAAAAHY/dT7Ui1rUPq0/s200/CIMG2958.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257442217816156786" border="0" /></a><br />A beautiful sunset view on the plane ride home.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">A few highlights:</span></span><br /><br />Eating lunch with Jason at his favorite lunch spot<br />Drinks and great conversation at our favorite <a href="http://www.bourbonandbranch.com">speakeasy</a><br />Meeting an old friend from college and meeting her 3 adorable children<br />Sitting <a href="http://www.ferrybuildingmarketplace.com">outside</a> on a beautiful day,<br />sketchbook in hand listening to the new <a href="http://www.damienjurado.com">Damien Jurado</a><br />Time with my best friend.<br /><br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-2931825622943581872008-09-30T10:15:00.000-07:002008-09-30T10:45:37.671-07:00Rocky Mountain High<div style="text-align: center;">I have fallen in love.<br />With the Colorado Rockies.<br /><br />Aspen trees everywhere were in brilliant golden yellows and just beginning to turn orange. I didn't want to leave. The hillsides and valleys were dotted with streams of yellow aspens, glittering in the sun peaking though the puffy white clouds.<br /><br />The wedding went wonderfully. I was gladly put to use decorating the reception "tent" and in charge of ALL the flowers: four maid-of-honor bouquets, the bridal bouquet, and the cake. I think they turned out pretty good. Given there was only one kind of flower to work with.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJgXGCKPOI/AAAAAAAAAFs/LvlKL5OVaRY/s1600-h/CIMG2827.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJgXGCKPOI/AAAAAAAAAFs/LvlKL5OVaRY/s320/CIMG2827.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251866065340349666" border="0" /></a><br />The cake.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJgX_RrjcI/AAAAAAAAAF8/xH5oCRe-sUA/s1600-h/CIMG2846.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJgX_RrjcI/AAAAAAAAAF8/xH5oCRe-sUA/s320/CIMG2846.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251866080706268610" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">The bride's bouquet.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJgXsTqrXI/AAAAAAAAAF0/Vjl6FI9GaPU/s1600-h/CIMG2831.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJgXsTqrXI/AAAAAAAAAF0/Vjl6FI9GaPU/s320/CIMG2831.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251866075614326130" border="0" /></a><br />Beautiful fall colors.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJgYFmHjjI/AAAAAAAAAGE/2AGSWQUxx_0/s1600-h/CIMG2848.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJgYFmHjjI/AAAAAAAAAGE/2AGSWQUxx_0/s320/CIMG2848.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251866082402602546" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">My love and me among the aspens.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJhJ_Vwl6I/AAAAAAAAAGc/7GwPte7C9Hc/s1600-h/CIMG2865.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJhJ_Vwl6I/AAAAAAAAAGc/7GwPte7C9Hc/s320/CIMG2865.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251866939716835234" border="0" /></a><br />Taking a drive.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJgYoA9r6I/AAAAAAAAAGM/XU4M9dm9PM8/s1600-h/CIMG2850.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJgYoA9r6I/AAAAAAAAAGM/XU4M9dm9PM8/s320/CIMG2850.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251866091642007458" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Why do these trees undo me like this? (<span style="font-size:85%;">Sorry for the sideways, don't have time to fix</span>)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJjvB99VOI/AAAAAAAAAGk/mEOsiqTf_Ug/s1600-h/CIMG2871.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SOJjvB99VOI/AAAAAAAAAGk/mEOsiqTf_Ug/s320/CIMG2871.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251869775100728546" border="0" /></a>Hillsides of the Rockies.<br /><br />Although there were so many trees around, I was still finding moments of not breathing well at 10,000 feet. Can't imagine why...<br /><br /><br />In other news:<br />Jason is being whisked away to San Fransisco either in 2 hours, or 20. I can't decide if I like knowing ahead of time to prepare myself for his being gone (but also in turn somewhat have a looming feeling about it), or have it sprung upon me and within a few hours he'll be gone.<br /><br />Oh, but for a small $450 I could go with. I think at this point, the company should pay, no? Besides, he's going to be gone all of next week and then my father will be here on the days we normally have to ourselves leaving us (minus a few short hours on Friday night) no real alone time until Sunday, October 12th - which is his birthday.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Disclaimer:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I am in no way blaming Jason - it is my fault too. Our schedules these days are just a little extra difficult and I'm working a lot of weekends and weeknights.<br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;">However, fall is among us, and the trees are showing off.<br />I think I might just go admire them a bit.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-36619126884346205832008-09-23T08:07:00.000-07:002008-09-23T08:21:52.777-07:00Tuesday TiddingsSo, my manager at work was talking about working at Anthropology...part time. They get a 40% discount on clothes and 25% discount on home wears. Oh...danger. I could see it already: pay time comes, and they are asking me for more money as I'm spending even more than I'm making. But, if you think about it this way:<br /><br />Minimum wage is what? Around $8 an hour?<br />Let's say I worked just a measly 4 hour shift, to start.<br />That's around $80 - roughly.<br />Let's say there's a coat, or a pair of pants, or a dress at oh, about $160.<br />I work one shift, buy an item.<br />Work another shift, buy another item.<br />Work 2 shifts, buy a new comforter or something...<br /><br />If I just thought about it that way: Trading a shift for something to buy, well, I just might really start considering this. Plus with the holidays coming up, they could definitely use the extra hours, I'm sure. And if I go to the store downtown, I could just take the bus on Mondays and Tuesdays, which are my days off from the spa...<span style="font-style: italic;">hmm...<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;">In other news:</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Highlights from this weekend:<br /><br /><a href="http://umberdove.blogspot.com">Umber's</a> first show here in the Emerald City<br />Spending 28 hours with my friends<br />Noodle soup + rainy day + 4 bosom ladies<br />Calling in sick to take care of myself<br />An<span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</span></span> day with my hubby<br />Brunch and wine at <a href="http://campagnerestaurant.com/">Cafe Champagne</a><br />Impressionist exhibit at the <a href="http://seattleartmuseum.org/">SAM</a> <span style="font-style: italic;">(um, not so impressive)</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><br /></span>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-81688563249725520652008-09-17T09:58:00.000-07:002008-09-17T10:13:11.947-07:00Finally<div style="text-align: center;">Finally I am able to breathe and my chest does not feel heavy.<br />Finally I am able to look at my lover<br />and feel nothing but over-pouring love once again.<br />Finally we got a quiet moment alone.<br /><br />Yesterday we celebrated 2 years of marriage at the parent's cabin on Hat Island. What a much-needed escape it was. Being we were there from Sunday evening until Tuesday evening, there were not more than a handful of souls on the island, including the workers dredging the marina (what an awful, repetitive job if I must say so myself).<br />We walked the perimeter of the island in the warm morning sun, played golf in the shade of the afternoon trees, lounged, loved, listened to the ocean, and even saw a seal on the beach.<br /><br />Lately we have been<br />so<br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);font-size:130%;" >DAMN</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" >BUSY!!!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:85%;" >and stressed.</span><br /><br />Last week (yes, I haven't even checked my e-mail since then), I worked 55 hours, 6 days, split shifts and never ending days.<br />I think I ate dinner before 9pm once.<br /><br />Why is it that those you surround yourself with because you bask in their company and love with every fiber of your being can be the ones that will drive you utterly mad?<br />I am not pointing any finger, either. I know I am the same way.<br />It just seems upside down to me.<br /><br />Loved ones: I am glad you are in my life, driving me mad.<br />I wouldn't want it any other way.<br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-64453672130615394752008-09-09T21:37:00.001-07:002008-09-09T21:43:12.726-07:00Locks of Looming Despair<div style="text-align: center;">Ugh, I <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">HATE</span></span> when this happens. Why am I <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">SO </span></span>unclear as to what I want? A <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">little</span></span> darker doesn't mean black. And a <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">little</span></span> richer doesn't mean cherry red. But, I don't think I'm that unclear. I just don't think people listen.<br /><br />I don't even want to post a picture of myself<br />for I hate it.<br /><br />I went from cute little bouncy thing<br />to depressed goth morbid thing.<br /><br />It's amazing how something so seemingly small and insignificant (and fast growing) can cause so much grief and self-loathing.<br /><br />Ugh.<br /><br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-63124122085363316692008-09-04T10:50:00.000-07:002008-09-04T11:04:19.214-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">Well, I was almost eaten alive last night by the biggest spider I have <span style="font-style: italic;">EVER</span> seen. Almost. Except I have mad ninja skills. And a sprayer on my kitchen sink.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SMAgztRnQQI/AAAAAAAAAFc/8ysXgYQHI30/s1600-h/CIMG2720.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SMAgztRnQQI/AAAAAAAAAFc/8ysXgYQHI30/s320/CIMG2720.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242226038958145794" border="0" /></a><br />Sorry my little succulents, I'm taking a lot longer to paint this table that I thought it was going to take me. You'll have to wait a few more days outside.<br /><br />So, I don't know if I've adequately conveyed how much<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I FREAKING <span style="font-weight: bold;">LOVE</span> FALL</span></span><br /><br />It is my favorite season. It is perfect in all ways. The cool change in the air draws my soul into thanksgiving beyond containment, and the low sun in the sky bids me outdoors to bask in it's rays as its days are threatening to be shorter. The trees are all dressed to their best in the most beautiful fall colors and the rich harvest from summer is at its most delicious. Every minute I spend indoors makes me antsy to be out in the most perfect season.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >I am a greedy person about my time spent in the autumn</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns."</span><br /> <span style="font-size:85%;">-George Eliot</span><br /><br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-17341419282717592852008-09-03T09:45:00.000-07:002008-09-03T09:57:28.488-07:00Secret Life of Singleness<div style="text-align: center;">Inspired by <a href="http://www.umberdove.blogspot.com">Umber</a>, who was inspired by moi in our love of list-making, this one I have been secretly waiting for Jason to travel away so that I can make this list! And today is just that day, for he's in the air as I type this. It is just as it sounds: all the quirky habits I have when alone at home with no one to spy on my except my lovable pup.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Secret Life of Singleness</span><br />Go to be WAY early (I limit myself to 8:30 pm at the earliest)<br />Cook tons of veggies in ways that Jason wouldn't like<br />Clean my house and watch it stay clean!<br />Watch girly or kid movies<br />Read for hours before going to bed<br />Sometimes procrastinate on doing the dishes <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(shh!)</span></span><br />Bring all my art supplies upstairs and make a mess<br />Drink beer and watch silly T.V. shows (we do this together too, I guess)<br />Eat standing up in the kitchen<br />Eat a bag of popcorn for dinner<br />Eat meals not at meal time<br />Never wear make-up (unless going to work)<br />Make a "cave" in my bed with all the pillows<br />Sleep in the middle of the bed and spread every limb as far as I can<br />Sleep on <span style="font-style: italic;">his</span> pillow<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">The things he doesn't know about me! </span><br /><br /><br />List addendum for today:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Things I Love</span><br />Crisp fall walks<br />New haircuts<br />Piano<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Things I Do Not Love</span><br />Being chased by bees<br />Foggy windows in cars<br />Bad dreams<br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-51766480818334014262008-09-02T16:07:00.001-07:002008-09-02T16:23:30.898-07:00New 'Do<div style="text-align: center;">There's nothing like a new haircut to put a little bounce in your step!<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SL3KO372vwI/AAAAAAAAAE8/KiAk2Kc_Bbk/s1600-h/CIMG2706.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SL3KO372vwI/AAAAAAAAAE8/KiAk2Kc_Bbk/s320/CIMG2706.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241567898211106562" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">And with a little curl?<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SL3KPA1CxuI/AAAAAAAAAFE/dWw_PAIUCwU/s1600-h/CIMG2709.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SL3KPA1CxuI/AAAAAAAAAFE/dWw_PAIUCwU/s320/CIMG2709.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241567900598453986" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SL3KPoywjdI/AAAAAAAAAFM/zmIiy5FMWKQ/s1600-h/CIMG2710.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SL3KPoywjdI/AAAAAAAAAFM/zmIiy5FMWKQ/s320/CIMG2710.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241567911326289362" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SL3KPwnfj5I/AAAAAAAAAFU/f4Px4gk9YKo/s1600-h/CIMG2715.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SL3KPwnfj5I/AAAAAAAAAFU/f4Px4gk9YKo/s320/CIMG2715.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241567913426522002" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-23929318233768820352008-09-01T10:04:00.000-07:002008-09-01T10:35:11.891-07:00Bonkers about Botany<div style="text-align: center;">"You might not make it home"<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />That statement, as alarming as it is, was uttered to me twice this week. First with my car's brake fiasco (which was fixed to the bear minimum for a pretty penny), and secondly yesterday when I took Jason's Subaru (the so-thought more reliable car we own) to the grocery store and the battery didn't start. And, since I had taken both keys to my car (why? Don't ask) Jason couldn't have come to rescue me. Thank goodness for AAA. So, I sat outside in my favorite kind of day - that crisp but still warm late-evening sun fall type of day - and waited for AAA while hoping the shrimp I just bought weren't going to go rancid.<br /><br />45 minutes later: the alternator is bad. You know, I complained earlier about going into the car places and getting taken advantage of, but after all these encounters this week, that might just be changing. So, my husband being the resourceful jack-of-all-trades kinda guy he is + the wonderful internet = a fixed alternator and battery in oh...an hour. tops. amazing!<br /><br />However, let me not lead you down the wrong path to thinking this day was in any way not good. In fact, it was the most perfect day and weather I could have asked for. I spent the first part of the morning cleaning and moping my house to death, which is so satisfying I can't even begin to tell you. Then I met my dear friend <a href="http://www.candacemorris.blogspot.com/">Candace</a> for lunch and plant shopping in a nursery. Oh, it was so delightful! The perfect day, the perfect surroundings.<br /><br />There is something about these living things we call plants that speak to my soul like nothing else does. They are little beautiful worlds unto themselves that teach me so much about life, patience, beauty, and myself.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLwlps6FVTI/AAAAAAAAAEs/MkLhkhUrNO4/s1600-h/pot2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLwlps6FVTI/AAAAAAAAAEs/MkLhkhUrNO4/s320/pot2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241105464712058162" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLwlpHRct2I/AAAAAAAAAEk/BPDE8O2nPEU/s1600-h/pot1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLwlpHRct2I/AAAAAAAAAEk/BPDE8O2nPEU/s320/pot1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241105454609512290" border="0" /></a><br />This last one is going in my art studio on top of a cute little table I'm painting orange. Pictures will surely come later.<br /><br />Adieu, my little elves. I'm off to more gardening and I think I see the blue sky coming out. Hope with me for another brilliant fall day.<br /><br />"O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained with the blood of grapes,<br />pass not, but sit beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,<br />And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe;<br />And all the daughters of the year shall dance!<br />Sing now the lusty song of fruit and flowers."<br />-<span style="font-style: italic;">William Blake.</span><br /><br /><br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-87255664109501434072008-08-30T08:31:00.000-07:002008-08-30T08:40:59.946-07:00Le End of Ze World<div style="text-align: center;">while reading <a href="http://candacemorris.blogspot.com">Mme.'s</a> blog of <span style="font-style: italic;">Le Countdown</span>, the thing that kept coming to mind was this video. Hope you enjoy it on this weekend day!<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nZMwKPmsbWE&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nZMwKPmsbWE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-17541052405544928522008-08-29T12:46:00.001-07:002008-08-29T13:03:28.218-07:00Cindy*, you've served me well.<div style="text-align: center;">Well, the time has come at last. My faithful little car has given up on me. I have been feeding it brake and clutch fluid to try and keep her alive, but alas all her ailments have proven to overcome.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />She didn't exactly die I should clarify. <span style="font-style: italic;">Yet</span>. Upon taking her to the doctor this morning, the prognosis was grim (on my pocket book). She has been whining and screeching for a few weeks now and to relieve her cries it will only cost me a mere $750!! My front brake pads and rotors are shot, plus the back ones aren't going to last much longer either. I was warned not to drive more than 150 miles lest I go to step on my brakes, and <span style="font-style: italic;">oops</span> - not working anymore! Flashes of coming upon rush hour and needing to slam on my brakes when they decide now would be the most appropriate time to give out...<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">pessimist? moi?</span></span><br /><br />So, I am now looking for a car. I hate car things. Just like changing the oil - everything is so expensive and I feel b/c I'm a cute girl that obviously doesn't know anything about them that I am wearing a huge sign that says:<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Please take advantage of me!</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I am impressed by your use of big vocabulary words that I don't know anything about and will happily give you the better part of this year's income to save my life!</span></span><br /><br />No, I'm not impressed. In fact, I go into every car type place with my eyes shifty and my jaw clenched. "You just try to weasel me into paying more than I should, and watch out! I'll have hell to reign down on you!!"<br />I think I've actually frightened some men quite well.<br /><br />And you know the thing that really makes me upset? I live too far away to ride the bus or my bike, which I would have loved to been doing all this time anyways.<br /><br />Oh, bother. You mean to tell me the universe isn't aligning with me to make my life one easy, nice cake walk? Well, the least that could happen is I get a cute car.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLhU4cY5JNI/AAAAAAAAAEc/U5K1UaF_jhY/s1600-h/Austin-Mini-Cooper-Sport-red-f-lr.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLhU4cY5JNI/AAAAAAAAAEc/U5K1UaF_jhY/s320/Austin-Mini-Cooper-Sport-red-f-lr.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240031495115580626" border="0" /></a><br />Wouldn't I look just cute as a button in this? Yes, I know I would too. I guess I better start playing the lottery, first just so I can afford to have my brakes done!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">*My car's name is Cindy, because she is the exact color of Cindy Crawford's red lipstick.</span></span><br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-85852727457446461402008-08-28T17:42:00.000-07:002008-08-29T08:51:16.937-07:00Suzzie Homemaker<div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br />Flower of the day: <span style="font-style: italic;">Crocosmia</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/en.wikipedia.org/wiki/crocosmia"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLgWK7aMR9I/AAAAAAAAAEU/8pQpkXsH2zM/s1600-h/CIMG2683.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLgWK7aMR9I/AAAAAAAAAEU/8pQpkXsH2zM/s320/CIMG2683.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239962543447623634" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Aren't they lovely? I can't get over their color. They just popped up in my garden this year - I'm sure they must have been there last year too, but I they just didn't capture my eye like they did this year.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLgWKWSBbNI/AAAAAAAAAEE/7ol2VzBOTU4/s1600-h/CIMG2677.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLgWKWSBbNI/AAAAAAAAAEE/7ol2VzBOTU4/s320/CIMG2677.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239962533481245906" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The yummy peach and blueberry cobblers I made<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLgWKkh1ScI/AAAAAAAAAEM/FDeGS4PMfGE/s1600-h/CIMG2676.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLgWKkh1ScI/AAAAAAAAAEM/FDeGS4PMfGE/s320/CIMG2676.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239962537305655746" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The starting of my watercolor on the blocks I got for my birthday from my dear friends.<br /><br />Well, it's off to make Smoked Salmon crepes for mom-in-law and hubby. Yum, can't wait!<br /><br />List addendum for today:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Things I Love:</span><br />Crisp fall walks<br />The smell of baking things - especially with cinnamon<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Things I Do Not Love:</span><br />Dog poop<br />Animal Shelters (I cry every time!)<br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-70482615036588252412008-08-27T09:58:00.001-07:002008-08-27T10:11:12.989-07:00Busy little bee is me<div style="text-align: center;">Is it really only 10am when I am writing this? I love how much I get done when I wake up early. This morning, the blustery wind outside made it easy to wake up when Jason's alarm went off at <span style="font-style: italic;">yawn</span> 6:30. So, so far, I have:<br /><br />done laundry <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> folded it <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> put it away<br />cut out recipes from my magazines to add to my recipe book<br />gone through the mail<br />paid some bills<br />planned the next two nights meals plus my grocery list<br />prepared some branches to go up on my wall<br />had play/snuggle time with Harley<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLWIppELHCI/AAAAAAAAAD8/zQ4SVKNXZhs/s1600-h/CIMG2674.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLWIppELHCI/AAAAAAAAAD8/zQ4SVKNXZhs/s320/CIMG2674.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239243990494813218" border="0" /></a>I love days off in the middle of the week! I feel so accomplished by noon! However, these will be changing soon as I'm <span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">drum roll, please</span></span>...I'm starting in the spa! Yes, that's right, friends. Come one, come all to have facials and waxing from your's truly. I am very excited about this. For one, not even a week after I started my training at the spa in which I was currently working, the other illusive spa that hired me back in January - that's right, it's almost September now. Count 'em: 9 long months - just dissolved. <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">poof</span></span>! Like it never existed.<br /><br />Anywho (<span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">is that one word?</span></span>), I'm not working today so why are we talking about it? I'm off from here to: go to the gym (given my motivation continues), return a movie, go to the grocery store (one of my favorite things), drop off some clothes at Goodwill, and perhaps find myself at a craft store. Then to come home and bake some peach cobblers, crepes for dinner, and whatever I can get my greedy little oven mits on!<br /><br />Tata, and may this Wednesday be productive for you as well!<br /><br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-39147653819739546332008-08-24T16:19:00.000-07:002008-08-26T18:38:18.072-07:00I'll have them all, please!More summer rain, shorter days, and cooler weather makes my soul claw at my insides for fall. My most favorite season. The colors, the pumpkins, the warm hearty meals after light summer salads, the leaves, but you can't forget: the clothes! Inspired by my dear friends' <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www./visuallyinkedin.blogspot.com">blog</a>, here is a visual list of fall wishes:<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOB5bTSwkI/AAAAAAAAABs/-SjGFEEWG78/s1600-h/jacket.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOB5bTSwkI/AAAAAAAAABs/-SjGFEEWG78/s320/jacket.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238673615143223874" border="0" /></a><br />Isn't it made just for me?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOCTOdiorI/AAAAAAAAACc/BOAWqe1f_D0/s1600-h/boots.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOCTOdiorI/AAAAAAAAACc/BOAWqe1f_D0/s320/boots.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238674058373145266" border="0" /></a>I think these might fit perfectly over the perfect pair of skinny jeans.<br /><br /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/JasonG/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot-2.jpg" alt="" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLODEqqY2qI/AAAAAAAAADc/jzMQ_c_M7iw/s1600-h/top1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLODEqqY2qI/AAAAAAAAADc/jzMQ_c_M7iw/s320/top1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238674907756812962" border="0" /></a>And this is so cute and feminine - it will look great with my current tan.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLODEoW43iI/AAAAAAAAADk/hZ75ae6MfDg/s1600-h/top2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLODEoW43iI/AAAAAAAAADk/hZ75ae6MfDg/s320/top2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238674907138154018" border="0" /></a>Who's that girl in the cute top? Oh, it's me! It's me!<br /><br />And the ever-continuing hunt for the perfect bag:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOEu8lpWwI/AAAAAAAAADs/AVT2eGJ5CjQ/s1600-h/bag1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOEu8lpWwI/AAAAAAAAADs/AVT2eGJ5CjQ/s320/bag1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238676733634894594" border="0" /></a><br />This one is cute, but maybe a little too plain<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOC-hCBTDI/AAAAAAAAAC8/KJtkd6vPMog/s1600-h/bag2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOC-hCBTDI/AAAAAAAAAC8/KJtkd6vPMog/s320/bag2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238674802092362802" border="0" /></a><br />This one also very cute, but perhaps too business-y, don't you think?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOC-w-iKPI/AAAAAAAAADE/yJLgIigUc34/s1600-h/bag3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOC-w-iKPI/AAAAAAAAADE/yJLgIigUc34/s320/bag3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238674806372706546" border="0" /></a><br />I'm starting to notice a theme: LARGE!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOC-6yMz1I/AAAAAAAAADM/wx4bFd5ERn4/s1600-h/bag4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOC-6yMz1I/AAAAAAAAADM/wx4bFd5ERn4/s320/bag4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238674809005330258" border="0" /></a><br />This is actually my favorite so far - adorable, no?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOC_DcxgLI/AAAAAAAAADU/CT0HdSFJllM/s1600-h/bag5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SLOC_DcxgLI/AAAAAAAAADU/CT0HdSFJllM/s320/bag5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238674811331379378" border="0" /></a>And lastly and perhaps leastly - I tried to diverge from the above theme, but I think it's calling me too loudly!<br /><br />Well, happy fall shopping to you all! Tis the coziest and cuddliest time to shop! Especially with a warm drink in hand and scarf on neck.<br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-75702622257845599222008-08-21T07:34:00.000-07:002008-08-21T07:42:03.846-07:00Bon Voyage, Niki!Last night/yesterday was one of those days that the cosmos aligned and 5 friends spontaneously had an amazing time - on a Wednesday! Well, it wasn't entirely spontaneous as we planned a good-bye lunch for dear Niki who left this morning for New York. What a sad day it was. So the rest of us drank! I love the random luncheon that turned into 9 hours of girl time, shots of tequila, buying bright orange pants, getting caught in a wind storm, Thai food, and good conversations.<br /><br />Niki - we will miss you. But you are only far in distance. Nothing can separate your dearness to our hearts.<br /><br />Well, I'm off after work to spend a day and few nights at the cabin with my beloved. A much needed retreat away for us both, I think. I'm kind of glad in a way that the weather is supposed to be gloomy. Nothing like cuddling up watching the rain on the ocean in a warm snuggly blanket. Me thinks some watercolors will be in tall order...wonder what the gloom will bring out.Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-13351411727898992162008-08-19T19:31:00.001-07:002008-08-19T19:47:55.008-07:00Life of a dog<div style="text-align: center;"> My Harley - currently sitting in the window watching all the passers-by and dutifully guarding his mum - has a life, I tell you. Here is what his day looks like:<br /><br />1. wake up with mom and go out to the bathroom<br />2. stretch and roll and grumble on the carpet in the sun<br />3. check out the house, make sure it's the same from last night<br />4. Play ball in the back yard. Poop.<br />5. Sit under any table mom or dad is sitting at while head is resting in lap, getting pet<br />6. Sleep<br />7. Play with toy<br />8. Go to the dog park, where we: play with ball, play with other dogs, sniff a lot of strange smells, go for a walk, explore the forests, get utterly tired and hot but be too picky to drink out of the water bowls that other dogs have drooled in, poop A LOT<br />9. Come home and sleep<br />10. Bark at people passing by. Or neighbors. Go bananas at spotting a squirrel.<br />11. Eat dinner<br />12. Drink a crap-load of water<br />13. beg for food while mom and dad make and eat dinner<br />14. poop some more<br />15. eat a bone and/or play with a toy<br />16. Sleep<br />17. Dream about chasing said squirrels in yard and wake mom and dad up doing so<br />18. wake mom and dad up to go to the bathroom.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SKuFlC6jdFI/AAAAAAAAABc/Z33jjUTZr90/s1600-h/DSC_0095.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SKuFlC6jdFI/AAAAAAAAABc/Z33jjUTZr90/s320/DSC_0095.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236425863232451666" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Oh, to be a dog and the happiest thing I know.<br /></div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4294624406204632718.post-22981157481902521772008-08-18T17:16:00.000-07:002008-08-20T09:10:30.615-07:00Art Spaces<div align="left">I love cleansing summer rain. There's something about it that quiets my soul and reminds me that soon (<em><span style="font-size:85%;">oh, too soon</span></em>) I will be crawling into hibernation once again.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SKxASmhguWI/AAAAAAAAABk/opyK4wJze_k/s1600-h/DSC_0462.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mAGeb8yNfAk/SKxASmhguWI/AAAAAAAAABk/opyK4wJze_k/s200/DSC_0462.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236631155047971170" border="0" /></a></div><div align="left"> </div><br /><div align="left">Don't you love this space? It was my wonderful birthday present from my dear hubby. He knows me all too well, doesn't he? I have already made time have wings sitting here. I love the way the light comes in and I can see the clouds peeking out from the grass eye-level that I have. I feel so cozy and hidden in my little cave. And the best part about it is that during the hot dog days of summer, this room is a cool refuge for both persons and canines alike. </div><br /><div align="left"> </div><br /><div align="left">In other news: my teeth are healthy and clean. I love going to the dentist. I know most people would gawk at this statement but I absolutley love the clean tatar-free feeling. And for some reason those chairs are so comfortable, I think I could fall asleep in them every time if it weren't for the <em>open...close...open</em>... I think I would rather have one of those in my living room instead of a lazy boy, wouldn't you?</div>Devonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10613322099900619636noreply@blogger.com2