tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63001743705607505422024-02-19T15:45:24.472-08:00Made In MichiganBrookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-33967054224562923152019-11-21T17:04:00.002-08:002019-11-21T17:04:53.231-08:00GratefulSix months ago, I was at my worst physically, mentally, and emotionally. My anxiety had gotten so bad that my body was breaking down, forcing my auto immune disease to flare up and taking a toll on my body, to the point where I could barely grocery shop or go out and enjoy spending time with people.<div>
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Four months ago, I was put on anti anxieties that changed my life.</div>
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One month ago, I had an idea to throw a Thanksgiving dinner party for my Bingo ladies. I thought we'd do a pot luck, and that everyone could bring a dish.</div>
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Three weeks ago, I decided that since I've been teaching myself to cook and was feeling inspired, I challenged myself to make the entire dinner on my own.</div>
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Yesterday, I cleaned the house from top to bottom.</div>
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Today, I arranged the house and cooked an amazing dinner for nine people.</div>
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Six months ago, I couldn't have any of that.</div>
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I'm feeling a lot of things, but I'm mostly feeling grateful to be a whole human being again. To have the energy, stamina, and mental capacity to pull something like this off is just astounding to me. But then again, I wasn't even half a person until recently. </div>
Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-23044658653049877722019-08-23T12:21:00.002-07:002019-08-23T12:21:39.118-07:00Take Back Your LifeIn 2013 just before I moved out to California, I was terribly, terribly depressed. I'd been on medication before, but with poor medical supervision and careless doctors, my dosage was pushed up and up until I couldn't feel anything anymore except for mildly content. Due to my lack of medical coverage at the time and with no money to go to the doctors to get refills, I was forced to wean too quickly off of the meds. Getting off of that medication almost killed me and I ended up in the hospital.<br />
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Fast forward to after I'd moved to California, and changing my life so drastically shoved the depression right out of me. It wasn't until later, with the help of a therapist, that I found out that anxiety and depression don't like each other much, and when one is strong the other will go dormant. I'd never had horrible anxiety before, just the mild panic whenever I did something I disliked (like making phone calls), and when my depression was gone and the anxiety began to well up in me, it became overwhelming. I'd dealt with depression for almost a decade at that point, it was an old foe and I knew how to wrestle it, but anxiety was a whole new beast. </div>
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From my past blog posts, we know that I've got an autoimmune disease, and for a lot of people when they're not controlled well they can become chronically ill, and it creates a cycle of mental despair and physical deficiencies that develop slowly, over time, until one day a person looks up and realizes that they've been living a shadow of a life behind their illnesses. This happened to me. Despite my attempts to land a good therapist several times over, and my fear of going back on medication when it turned out so very badly last time, combined overall with my unstable medical insurance that would switch from year to year, forcing me to switch providers and therapists, I felt stuck.</div>
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Almost a year ago last October, my illnesses reached an overall peak. I was having migraines more frequently than I'd ever had them, my anxiety was almost crippling and I turned down opportunity after opportunity due to my fears. Something that you wont often find in your research to find help for autoimmune diseases is that anxiety and illness go hand in hand, one scratches the others back, and anxiety will make you more and more ill. Illness will give you more and more anxiety. At some point, you have too find the will to put your foot down. </div>
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Well, it took a while, but I finally did. </div>
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Soon after we moved to Michigan I researched for days before I settled on a therapist that I wanted to reach out to (check out psychologytoday.com to find yourself a therapist that will fit your needs), and once I finally did she read me like an open book and broke it down for me.</div>
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"Brook, we need to get your anxiety under control. Have you thought about going on any type of medication?"</div>
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I had thought about it, and I said so at the time, but my anxiety extended to doctors as well. Would I find a doctor who would listen to me about my illnesses and take me seriously? Would they respect my wishes about what I will and won't allow during an exam? Will they treat me as though I know what I'm talking about, or dismiss all of the research I've ever done because it's been the only thing I've been able to rely on for the past 6 years? </div>
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Despite my fears, my therapist helped me to do the research and I booked an appointment with a doctor that we felt would suit my needs and would give me the best shot at a positive medical experience, but my doctor wouldn't be back from maternity leave until late August. </div>
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Then I ran out of my migraine medication. </div>
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Desperate, I called the facility and booked an emergency appointment for the morning that I was to leave for a trip. For me, fears can outweigh other fears. The fear of going without my medication outweighed my fear of a prescription refill appointment, and I went willingly, alone (normally I bring my husband-- doctors are significantly more willing to listen to an old white man). During the appointment, my wishes were respected, the physician was kind, and she immediately noticed my severe anxiety. She, like my therapist, asked if I had interest in going on medication. I said I did, and that I was waiting until my appointment in August to ask for medication. She asked why I was waiting, and I hesitated. Was she asking me if I'd like her to write a prescription for me?</div>
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It turns out, she was. She was entirely willing to refill my migraine medication, but the frequency of my migraines concerned, her and she was hoping to put me on something that would prevent migraines. There is a well known antidepressant/antianxiety that also prevents migraines that we could try. And so to my surprise, I left with a new medication and a little bit of hope. </div>
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The first week on the medication was awful. It causes nausea, and I was its victim those first few days. But once I got into the swing of things, the medication began to work its magic.</div>
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I started my medication on July 23, and in that short time that I've been taking it, my anxiety has decreased tenfold. But that's not all. My therapist was right, my anxiety was making me so, so much more sick than I actually was. I suddenly have more energy than I know what to do with. I'm completing tasks way before their deadlines, with ease and even enthusiasm. I need fewer naps. I wake up rested. There aren't entire days spent on the couch recovering from the minimal tasks from the day before. </div>
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In the past few weeks I've gone to a concert at DTE, something that would have definitely given me a panic attack just a few weeks ago, and I've gone to the flea market in Shipshewana, IN, a 6 hour round trip drive with miles of walking in extreme heat. The old Brook would have needed at least three days to recover from that, and wouldn't have lasted nearly as long as she did, nor would she have been the one with the confidence to drive. </div>
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I'm amazed at the changes, and so are my closest friends and family. I'm happier, healthier, and I'm living a normal life these days. For me, it's a miracle. I'm finally a functioning human being and my illnesses aren't controlling my life-- now I get to do that. </div>
Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-82511970936365896372019-01-23T09:04:00.003-08:002019-01-23T09:04:31.640-08:00How I Easily Formed Life Changing Habits in One Year: The Chart ChallengeAs I sit here, there is a stack of 12 papers in my desk in my office. I <i>cherish </i>this stack of papers like no other. It's just an ordinary stack of papers, they're not magic. They're not valuable. I printed them at home and wrote on them myself, in my messy scrawl that everyone insists they can't read. They wouldn't mean much for anyone who stumbled upon them, but for me they changed my life.<br />
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Flashback to 2017, I was continually frustrated with myself. I'm going to really open up here and let y'all in on a dirty little secret-- I am the actual worst at brushing my teeth. I can't even describe to you how much I hate it. It overwhelms my senses in a way I can't describe. I hate it nearly as much as I hate putting away laundry, and my husband can attest to the temper tantrums I have had when he's brought me a basket of clean laundry and dumped it into my already full basket of clean laundry that I'd avoided putting away for three weeks in a row (that would be four weeks of laundry, as we always do it on Fridays or Saturdays).<br />
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As an adult, I found even less drive to brush my teeth because of my lack of in-person communication. When I was in high school and college I had people to see, and people who would make fun of me if even a single hair was out of place (or for any number of other reasons-- the girls in my school were cruel). But after I graduated and dropped out of college, suddenly there was no one to force me into the habit, and I slowly just... Quit. Unless I could tell they needed brushing (usually every other day or so), I just wouldn't do it. I couldn't make myself sit through the torture of it-- the spicy mint toothpaste, the bristles touching my gums, the foamy spit it makes, the coldness that is left behind by the mint, the time it takes. It's all just too much.<br />
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I was also struggling with a number of other things-- for example: motivation and drinking enough water. One of my major concerns was also short term memory retention. I would often sit with my husband at the end of the day and review the day's events so that I could try to hold on to them, otherwise they would just slip away. Sure, I could remember the events weeks later, but I couldn't tell you about them the day after. The last straw was really when I sat down one evening with my husband and asked him if I'd gone to the doctor yesterday or the day before. The answer? That same day. I'd gone to the doctor that morning and couldn't even remember it 11 hours later.<br />
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Enter my idea: A mental health chart. A way to keep myself accountable every single day, to try to overall better my health. At first it worked, but I fell off the wagon and gave up after a couple of months. When 2018 rolled around and I was in the midst of a deep depression, I decided enough was enough, and I pulled out the chart again. I was going to do it for a full year, come hell or high water.<br />
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As most things go, my chart started as sort of a rough draft-- a chart of things I <i>thought</i> would be important. Over the months, my chart evolved, and I ended up with something that looks like this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidpbzFGCFoyuaelqagQk5T5p1A8EBn7uCz28y_aGy4_NnE3hyzMNwQemCA9haZw1CjHtwfwFkTY33wpIupyZ8ayalj769WQ2-gT6MRsr3oD6Y1lVdDd9ZeEw7829GAQR-1uYzpqJyCXsPH/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-01-23+at+11.16.02+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1216" data-original-width="1600" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidpbzFGCFoyuaelqagQk5T5p1A8EBn7uCz28y_aGy4_NnE3hyzMNwQemCA9haZw1CjHtwfwFkTY33wpIupyZ8ayalj769WQ2-gT6MRsr3oD6Y1lVdDd9ZeEw7829GAQR-1uYzpqJyCXsPH/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-01-23+at+11.16.02+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm25J22Qi1-BM7FqqzkdHWjHkTR06PMVinJGmuSvRKmmq1A6EzQv3Kxt6GXJ2ZJN8ZMNDCexSGVecV-XLVYrqn2Rtc5wnYUJ8-USKiFSUP74BuzwrX8SzvS69pwG_zOJcC4Iqcyx6qaeqa/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-01-23+at+11.16.23+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1225" data-original-width="1600" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm25J22Qi1-BM7FqqzkdHWjHkTR06PMVinJGmuSvRKmmq1A6EzQv3Kxt6GXJ2ZJN8ZMNDCexSGVecV-XLVYrqn2Rtc5wnYUJ8-USKiFSUP74BuzwrX8SzvS69pwG_zOJcC4Iqcyx6qaeqa/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-01-23+at+11.16.23+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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The chart is double sided and fits on a regular sheet of paper (with extended margins), and the accountability it holds me to is <i>incredible.</i> For the past year (and then some, I don't plan on stopping), this chart has been my constant companion. If I'm away from home for the night, the chart comes with me. It stays on a clip board on my night stand while it lives at home, and it goes into a folder when I'm traveling. I've even got a little piece of fabric tied to my phone charger, so when I go to plug my phone in for the night I touch or see the fabric and remember that I need to fill out my chart. Every night before bed (and sometimes in the morning, if I fall asleep too quickly, but it doesn't work as well when I'm lazy and do it that way), I fill it out and hold myself accountable for taking care of my body and my mind. I make mental notes during the day of things I want to chart, things I don't want to forget. On the days where I am too lazy to turn on the light and fill out the chart once I've already gotten into bed, I open a note on my phone and fill out the chart by memory (which I've come to find incredibly easy-- I mean, I've done this for 365 days, I know the order of the chart and what does in each box).<br />
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It turns out I'm a slut for check marks and a full chart.<br />
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Anyway, here are the things that this chart has done for me (and I guess that I've done for myself, since I was my only motivator, although I have a hard time crediting and complimenting myself):<br />
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<li>I now<b> brush my teeth AND wash my face every single day</b>, twice a day. My skin quality has improved dramatically and so has the sensitivity of my teeth. After a while, I even added a mouthwash to my nightly routine to build up my enamel-- something that was absolutely unheard of before, because of how overwhelming mint is on its own and how much mouthwash can burn.</li>
<li><b>I'm hydrated!</b> I get enough water every single day now, which has cut down on my fatigue and my headaches drastically.</li>
<li><b>I have better memory retention</b>, and can hold on to my days better because I'm forcing myself to review events at the end of every day, and I take mental note of them during the day as well.</li>
<li><b>I have better self awareness</b>. If something is the worst part of my day, I take note of that and try not to repeat the experience, and I'm less afraid to call people out if their actions cause the worst part of my day. </li>
<li><b>I'm more motivated</b>. Initially the "Thing I Did" section was a "goal" section with a check mark box next to it, and then it turned into an "achievement" section, and I would fill that line out every night and check off whether I did it the next day. However, I found that to be too much pressure, so now I write what I've done in there-- whether it was planned or it just happened. I found that I don't have to be "successful" every day in order to feel like I did something. Sometimes that section just says "read", "made dinner", or "showered", because this chart isn't a cure-all. Depression is still a real thing for me, and sometimes the only noteworthy thing I've done in a day is changed my shirt or got the mail, and that's okay. But on regular days, I have the self-motivation to put something in that box, and I'm happy when I do.</li>
<li><b>I'm healthier overall. </b>When I said I was more motivated, I meant it in every sense of the word. I have yet to add something like daily exercise to my routine (which may never be a reality, and that's okay with me), but I <i>have</i> seen the benefits the chart has provided for me and felt the motivation to feel even better on the inside. So in addition to being hydrated, I've also got my medication in order, my auto immune disease *mostly* under control, and I'm on supplements to keep me healthy. Sometimes, it takes feeling better to want to feel better, and we don't realize how miserable we really are until we get some relief from it. That slight relief that I began to feel from the benefits of the chart made me want to feel even better.</li>
<li><b>I feel like I finally know who I am. </b>Twelve months of forcing myself to be self aware has resulted in some interesting changes. I realized after just a couple of months that my hair was making me miserable, and having long hair just didn't feel like "me." It took me a while, but I finally took the plunge and chopped all of my hair off. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it feels like someone removed a tumor from my life-- I feel lighter, more confident, and infinitely happier. Along with my hair I've finally found my sense of style (which I'd known for a few years and simply hadn't given in to because I thought it wasn't a "real" or "acceptable" style), and I carry myself differently. For once, I feel like a real person, not like an alien pretending to be a person. I guess I realized at some point that I have opinions, and they matter, and I had to stop giving in to other peoples' ideals if I wanted to be happy. I couldn't have done any of this without first making myself a priority, and that started with the chart.</li>
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I may have completed 12 months of charts, but I'm not done yet. I don't think I'll ever stop doing them, and this year I've given myself a goal to start checking off on the chart: read. I want to read every single day, even if it's just a single page of the book I'm working on, and so far I'm doing well. I know I'll miss a day at some point, because life gets in the way, but I'm ready to slowly tackle the other parts of my life that need improvement too. I'm sure the chart will continue to evolve and change (for example, I'd like to add in a migraines column and a triggers column), but that's okay because so am I.</div>
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If you feel like this chart is something that would be useful to you, I cannot encourage you enough to try it. I'm even happy to email copies of the chart document, and for those of you I know personally, if you'd like 12 copies of the chart printed and handed off to you, I'd be happy to do that too. All I know is that this simple, two minute daily task has changed my life, and I'm eager for it to do the same for others. </div>
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<br />Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-10612588720428504412019-01-13T14:09:00.001-08:002019-01-13T14:09:27.774-08:00Ten YearsI keep seeing these ten year photo comparisons on Instagram and I thought "Hey, I could do one of those," but when it comes down to it, I don't think a ten year comparison is really all that fair to do when the first photo would be of someone who was still in high school and hadn't even gotten to experience the real world yet.<br />
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When I got to thinking about it some more, I knew that a photo comparison wouldn't really share much... But maybe a blog post would. Because while I've changed a lot since then physically, the place where I've seen the most change has been on the inside.<br />
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Flashback to January 2009 when I was just about to turn 17, and I was on the brink of something. I think like most people, I spend a lot of time trying to figure myself and improve on that, and that year was no exception. In the beginning of that school year, I'd been confronted with a truth about myself that I had never recognized before: I was horribly, terribly depressed, and it showed.<br />
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I began quasi-seeing someone I'd known since elementary school in the fall, and that all ended very swiftly one day when I had what was honestly a temper tantrum. My mother had said something about a dead relative that I didn't want her to say in front of me in the presence of company, and I lost it. The guy got in his car and left, and later texted me to explain that he couldn't be around that kind of negativity-- that I brought people down, and he didn't want to be a part of that. He needed people around to lift him up.<br />
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We never spoke again after that, but that was my wakeup call. I realized that day that what he was talking about was depression, and what I was feeling on the inside was festering and oozing out like a deep rooted splinter. I don't know how I couldn't see it before, that other people could see my suffering in the form of my moods, and it took me by surprise. I decided to finally enter therapy to work on myself. I didn't want to be a horrible person to be around.<br />
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On one hand, with that last conversation he split me open and left the insides on the ground, jack-o-lantern cadaver style, and though I was ready to tackle myself, I was at a very fragile, weak state in my life. I was trying to learn to love myself, and all I was actually learning was that that seemed impossible. I felt impossible to love.<br />
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Meanwhile, a connection was brewing with someone else, and I needed to feel loved. He made me feel like he could take all of the broken pieces of me and put them back together, like he could love me into loving myself. I thought it was all going to be so easy.<br />
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I don't remember there being a start date to our relationship, it just happened one day, and we were in the midst of it in the beginning of 2009. Over the next several months, he worked his tendrils into the cracks of my mind, the ones that I was trying to close, and found my weaknesses. He exploited them to feel strong, better about himself. It happened very slowly, but eventually I found myself in a place where I was being controlled in every aspect. I had been forced to delete every male I knew from my social media and my phone. I was not allowed to delete my text messages so he could check them at will. My wardrobe consisted only of yoga pants and T shirts, because they were the least offensive and other men wouldn't look at me if I didn't appear put together. I couldn't do my hair or my makeup anymore. I had to be constantly texting him, because if I wasn't he would accuse me of cheating. I fell deeper into depression, and eventually I stopped going to therapy.<br />
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We always got into an argument right as I was trying to go to bed, and each and every argument felt like the last one, but he had broken me so far down that I had convinced myself that there was no one left to love me if he walked away. So I spent hours every night on the phone with him, crying, begging him not to break up with me. My mother could hear me on the phone from her room, but didn't know the nature of the phone calls, only that I was keeping her awake. She had two young kids, and sleep was hard to come by. She'd scold me to go to bed, so then I had two things to worry about: making sure that he didn't end our relationship over some stupid "mistake" I'd made, and making sure that I stayed quiet enough that I wouldn't disturb anyone, lest I have my phone taken away and make him even more mad. I didn't get much sleep that year either.<br />
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The final straw came in the summer, when I was over at my best girl friend's house. Outwardly, he and I were very in love and cute with one another, drawing the awe of people we knew, who would often talk about us as "couple goals." Whenever we were alone, on the phone, he'd make a kissy noise to say goodbye. I'd have to do it back. It normally didn't bother me, but this time I wasn't alone. I was with my friend, who I knew would make fun of me if I did it. He heard me hesitate, and I set him off again.<br />
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I spent hours outside on the sidewalk in front of her house, sobbing on the phone, trying to get the okay from him to get back inside to my now annoyed friend, who at that point couldn't understand why she'd invited me over in the first place if I was just going to be outside on the phone all evening.<br />
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Eventually he got tired of fighting, and gave in. I was allowed to get off the phone. We weren't breaking up that day, but I knew eventually I'd have to stop spending time with my friend, too, because if she was going to make fun of the kissy noise, she didn't understand our relationship, per his logic.<br />
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Embarrassed at what had just happened, I went inside, tearful, and told my best friend a new truth, one I'd just realized: I was in an abusive relationship.<br />
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She spent the appropriate amount of time needed comforting me and consoling me, and then she gave an ultimatum. He'd finally slipped up and let someone see the monster he was, and she wouldn't let me go on like that. I had to either end things or she'd out me to the adults.<br />
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I broke up with him a few days later. Over those few days I gained my strength back, going against his wishes and doing things I wasn't allowed to do anymore. He'd been working a lot, and I'd gotten a reprieve from his focus. It gave me time to dwell on things and develop a resolve. I told him the truth during the breakup, that I thought he was emotionally abusive because he was insecure about himself, in an attempt to make him see the error of his ways so he wouldn't do that to anyone else, and left it at that. We never spoke again.<br />
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On days like this, I want to hug 17 year old me so badly. I want to tell her that it's going to be okay, and that it's going to make her stronger. I want her to know that after that, she'd learn to take no shit from men, that she wouldn't be a victim forever. That her next relationship would be one of the best, like the universe was taking pity on her for what she'd been through, giving her someone to ease her back into caring about someone else that way. That eventually, one day, she'd find the person who really would put the pieces back together.<br />
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But of course, she didn't know all of that. She just mustered up what was left of her broken courage and walked into the world without the person that she was convinced was the only person who could ever love her, and despite that did it anyway. On days like this, I want to thank her for not going further down that path, and letting it get worse than it already was.<br />
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I'll be 27 in under a month, and I don't have it all figured it out. I can't wait to tell my sisters that one day: that adults are frauds, that they don't know what they're doing. We're all just trying our best. But trying your best really does heed results, because I'm not that girl anymore. Not even close.Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-56742677053276750272018-12-28T23:15:00.000-08:002018-12-29T20:15:29.131-08:00It's Been a Hell of a YearWell, you guys, it really has. It's been a hell of a year, and it's almost over. It's been quite some time since I've updated, mostly because I felt like the biggest thing I needed to update on was the heaviest and hardest thing to talk about and that I couldn't talk about the stuff that happened after until I addressed it. However, with the year coming to a close, now it feels like it's time.<br />
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Back in December 2017, I was home for "Christmas" (aka, I visited in the beginning of the month because holiday flights are outrageously priced), and that trip started out pretty rough. If any of you know me well or pay attention to my posts on Instagram (and previously Facebook), you'd know that I cherish my great grandmother (Babcia) like no other. It's a really special thing to have someone that ties your family together in such a way, and I've always held on to that and made sure that I never took it for granted. Every person she ever met fell in love with her. If you were having a baby, or a wedding, or a birthday, even if she didn't know you directly, you probably have some of her crocheted items. She just loved to make things for people, because she simply loved people. It was hard not to love this woman, and I was no exception.<br />
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She'd been on hospice for about six months at that point, and it was clear that she was reaching the end of her life. But not being there every day to see her slow decline, for me the decline was exponential, and when I saw her in her very frail, assistance-required state, I was in complete shock. I had a little bit of a true mental breakdown that day, and I spent that trip cherishing the little moments with her and making sure that she knew that I loved her so, so damn much, because I didn't know if I would ever see her again, because anything can happen on any timeline.<br />
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From the moment I made the decision to move out of Michigan, I did so with the knowledge that I would be spending Babcia's last years apart from her. Thinking about it, I <i>barely</i> got any time with her as an adult, and there are dozens of questions I wish I could have asked her during that time. But still, I called as often as I could just to say hi, and I always booked extra days on my trips so that I could see her as much as possible. Like clockwork, I was back in Michigan every six months. I never wanted to have to say that I couldn't remember the last thing she said to me or how she looked just before she died. I left Michigan in December knowing that the end was soon, ready or not, and I had to go home anyway. That was the hardest plane ride I've ever taken, because every piece of me wanted to stay with her and soak up every moment.<br />
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When Patrick and I first began our relationship, I knew eventually I would move out to be with him, and he knew from the very beginning how important Babcia was to me. He swore to me that no matter what happened, he would get me to her in time for me to say goodbye, at any and all costs, no matter how long I had to stay away from him. When I got the call in early January, he kept his promise, and I flew out the next morning to be with her and with my family.<br />
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I got about one and a half lucid days with her, and I spent the rest of the time by her side with my family, until she took her last breath four days later.<br />
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If I'm honest, I still haven't fully grieved her loss. It's so easy to forget that it never happened, because she wasn't a part of my daily life for the past 4-5 years. It's hard in the moments when my hand brushes one of the afghans she made for me, or when I see the little antique mental calendar she gave me, which I keep set meticulously to her birthdate. It would be especially hard when I call my grandmother to chat, and I'd keep waiting for her to ask if I want to talk to Babcia. She'd never ask, and eventually I'd realize why.<br />
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When I was little, that woman swore to me that she would live to see my wedding day. I ended up eloping, which didn't bother her one bit as long as it made me happy, and she held on well past her promise; she held on until I could kiss her goodbye and be with her when she left, and that's truly the greatest gift she ever could have given me. She made sure that I wouldn't have any regrets.<br />
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I stayed to take care of whatever needed to be taken care of: babysitting, errands, funeral arrangements, phone calls, school pickups... whatever my family needed, because I knew that I really wouldn't feel like I could grieve until I got home and felt comfortable in my own space, and therefore I could handle things with fewer emotional breakdowns. I held hands, I picked poems, I put together photo boards, I set up spreads, I gave gifts, I stitched up last minute clothing mishaps... and then I watched the most important woman in my life be set into the ground. I sorted, organized, and cleaned her room/belongings, gave everyone all my love, and then I went home to let things sink in. It realyl hit me one day when I was in Joann Fabrics, and on an end cap I saw the exact yarn she'd been working with in December just before I left, and I had a breakdown in the store. In my darkest moments, when I miss her the most, I watch the video that my cousin sent me a few months before Babcia passed. In the video, she tells me she misses me and that she's proud of me and that she loves me and Patrick. It's my most prized possession, along with the necklace that Babcia was wearing just an hour before she died. It's been 347 days, and I haven't taken it off since my grandmother handed it to me, still warm from Babcia's skin.<br />
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My memorial tattoo for Babcia </div>
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Four generations of strong, beautiful women. </div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Kelly Karnesky Photography)</span></div>
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When I got home, I crocheted. It was therapeutic for me, being that Babcia taught me to crochet herself. I vowed to try to crochet one afghan for every month until 2019 (12 afghans). I made it to five before life became a whirlwind and we didn't stop <i>doing</i> until... well... we still haven't stopped doing stuff this year.<br />
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In April and May, I was sick. Two separate times, I had colds (or honestly probably the flu) so bad that I was convinced I'd end up in the hospital. I lost a lot of time during those months, and they mostly feel like they never happened.</div>
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In June, we geared up for the biggest trip Patrick and I have <i>ever</i> taken (either together or separately), and we finally <i>finally</i> got ourselves to Australia (and it happened to fall just before his birthday- the big 50- so we definitely counted this enormous trip as part of his birthday gift).<br />
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I have a best friend named Ellen. Ellen and I met about four years ago on a writing website, and became fast friends (she's actually the one who told me I was HSP, which changed who I am as a person and how I view/take care of myself in such a huge way that I wouldn't be the same person I am today if I'd never found out/met her). We'd type chatted and video chatted for years and we swore that we'd meet someday. That day finally came.</div>
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We landed in Melbourne and spent the most <i>incredible</i> seven days traveling around the city with my <i>best friend</i>. We met her fiance and their dog, I met their cat and saw their brand new house that I watched her stress over for literally almost a year. We tried Aussie snacks. Planes, trains, automobiles, trams, trolleys... We definitely got around the city, and I'm telling you all that if there had been any conceivable way that we could have stayed, we would have. (Nando's, I miss you)</div>
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Our trip to Australia, combined with meeting such a crucial part of my life in the flesh for the first time, was a truly life changing experience, and it was worth every single thing that we had to go through to get there (and back).</div>
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I know there's a strange stigma around internet friends, and I'm here to tell you to cut that shit out, because I have met some of the most important people in my life on the internet, some of whom I've still never met and still cherish. I met my <i>husband</i> on a blogging website. I met my <i>best friend</i> on a writing website. I met another one of my close friends on a pre-Instagram photo website. I met another one on a suicide chat room, in my darkest moments, and he saved my life (and then kept saving it over and over again while I got through what I was going through). </div>
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Internet friends can be as unimportant or as crucial as you allow them to be to you, and they're truly no different than the way I'd communicate with my family back home, living so far away. Most of my relationships have at one point been text/phone/app based, and that's just the way that I connect with people best.<br />
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Puggle and Gruggle (The Lost Forests)</div>
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Melbourne Zoo</div>
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Puffs (The Play)</div>
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When we got home, we celebrated Patrick's 50th birthday properly, complete with cards, gifts, decorations, and a fancy dinner of his choosing!</div>
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We didn't have much time to recover from our trip from Australia before I had to head off to Michigan again. I do generally space my trips out to be approximately every six months, and this trip just happened to fall in that six month mark. I hadn't had any firm plans to keep going back every six months after Babcia passed, but this was a special occasion because my cousin was getting married. Patrick hadn't been back since December of 2015, so it had been a long time since my family had seen him, and I figured that a wedding would be a good way to introduce him to all of the family members that we had missed the first time around. This was also one of the last Kupski weddings that there will be until my sisters get married, and I wanted to party with my nutty family as an adult. I wasn't going to upload any photos in this post, but I feel like I have to now because EVERYONE deserves to see my grandmother, Bev, dancing with three beer bottles in her hands, God bless her</div>
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So I flew back about a week earlier than Patrick to get in some quality friend time (and just in time too; my best guy friend was in a deadly car crash just two days before I flew in and he somehow made it out alive, so I definitely wanted to soak up as much time with him as I could just to reassure myself that he was still there) and a little extra family time, and then Patrick flew in a couple of days before the wedding. Of course, it was sweltering hot in the days before he got there and then as soon as he arrived, it poured rain most of the time (but we both live for that, so no ruined trips here). We also got to see my mom's new house while we were there, which she closed on just a few days after I flew in. We are beyond thrilled for her; she's definitely worked her ass off for this, and to be able to do it entirely on her own is awesome.<br />
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Me and these girls <3</div>
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A day with Zach and some big puppers</div>
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Closing day for Dina!</div>
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RIP Copper</div>
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Bev tearing up the dance floor!</div>
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When we got back home, we settled into our regular routine (with the added bonus that I finally established a reasonable sleep schedule for myself after literal years of struggling).</div>
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We also, after a stressful fiasco where the wrong car ended up in our hands and nothing could be done about it until we got back from Michigan, got a new car. Our lease was up (2015 Mazda CX5) and we are still absolutely thrilled with our 2018 Nissan Rogue SL AWD.</div>
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My last bit of news is something that we've been working towards for as long as Patrick and I have been together. I know most people work towards this goal too, but for us it was a little bit different- Patrick is 50 now and feels like at his age, he should be more settled, and both of us are extremely noise sensitive, so apartment just wasn't working out for us (it's truly detrimental to our health). We have been desperate to get into a house for <i>years, </i>but it wasn't even remotely possible... until recently... We pulled every string we had, and we had finally finally finally gotten to a good place and we were ready to begin the home buying process.<br />
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Our only question was <i>where</i>. We LOVE Oregon, but the housing prices doubled in just the three years that we were living there, and staying in the PDX area was impossible for our budget. We were never going to go back to California. We considered places like Bend, Oregon and Everett, Washington and even Boise, Idaho, until one night Patrick and I were driving to dinner and it hit him: Why weren't we looking at Michigan? I'll admit, I was skeptical at first, but I warmed up to the idea eventually.<br />
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Once the ball started rolling, it started rolling fast, and I'm happy to report that I'm typing this up from my couch in our new living room. And I do mean OUR living room. At the end of September I flew back to Michigan to house hunt, found the one we wanted within about a week, and the negotiations started. Initially I was supposed to fly back home after that, but after we learned that we could have me sign all of the papers on my own without Patrick (it was supposed to be just him signing), I ended up staying for about a month and a half. I had high blood pressure and a pretty serious eye twitch by the end of the process (honestly it started in the beginning of the process), and I finally took the plunge and cut off all of my hair out of stress/frustration but... we did it. Sight unseen (for Patrick, at least), we bought a house and closed on November 2nd. A few days later I flew home, packed up the rest of the apartment while Patrick was out of town, then when he got back we coordinated with the movers and had our stuff shipped to Michigan. The next morning we packed up the car, and drove across the country with two cats and a 20 gallon tote bin full of fish (not something I'd be eager to ever do again, honestly).<br />
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Feeling more like myself than I ever have, post-chop</div>
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We arrived in Michigan on November 15th, and we've been home ever since.<br />
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Life has changed quite a bit for us already. We've been busy with little home projects, painting and hanging and decorating and replacing, in between Patrick traveling for almost all of December, and me doing odds and ends jobs for people I know for a little extra cash (and really, more to help out the people I love). Plus I'm finally able to see my family more often than once every six months. I've seen them more in the last month or so than I have in the last 5+ years, and I get to go to sleep at night knowing that I get to watch my sisters grow up and be with my family as they get older.<br />
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I think the only thing that could make this all more perfect is if Babcia had been here to see it.</div>
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Hedwig "Hattie" Kupski</div>
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Our Babcia</div>
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February 29, 1920 - January 15, 2018</div>
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With Me Always</div>
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Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-32552473409627639032018-11-05T14:08:00.002-08:002018-11-07T07:02:08.087-08:00Going Backwards and Forwards All At OnceWell, the cat's out of the bag. Now that everyone who needed to be told has been, it's time to announce... I'm moving back to Michigan.<br />
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That's right-- This blog will <i>almost</i> be obsolete soon. I started it to document my journey to a new life across the country in California, so that my family could follow my story and keep up with me as best as we could manage. Now that I'll be back in Michigan, the Michigan friends and family won't need updates like this (although I'll still keep it semi-updated for west coast friends and family).<br />
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But wait-- I know what you're probably thinking. Did it finally fail? Did my nutty idea to move across the country to move in and be with my x2 aged boyfriend (at the time--- he would become my husband in 2014) that I met on the internet and had only met three times in person before I did so, finally fail?<br />
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If that's what you were thinking, I'll have you know...<br />
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WRONG AGAIN!<br />
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Patrick and I have been dreaming of buying a home together for years. Obviously, many young couples share this dream. However, Patrick is older, and we have had it a little rough. We're both extremely noise sensitive, and we're not made for apartment living. We are moving from an apartment on the third floor (wow, those stairs) that is on the corner of two main roads, one of which is an ambulance route, in a city that is so grossly overpopulated that the ONLY things being built right now are more apartment buildings for the contractors moving into the area to work at Nike, SalesForce, Intel, or any other number of huge tech companies. Talk about noise... and gridlock (seriously, it has taken me nearly 40 minutes to go 4 miles).<br />
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We love Oregon. We truly do. We'd stay forever if it was feasible. However, our dreams of owning a home there were realistic... when we moved there. However, due to the number of people that have moved to the area for the above stated jobs, housing prices have jumped <i>quite </i>drastically. By the time we'd saved up enough for a down payment on something that was in our price range when we'd moved there, prices had doubled (and will continue to do so), and our down payment wasn't enough anymore. We'd been chasing a market that was/is growing too rapidly for anyone but the wealthy and those who can get their companies to pay for them to relocate to the area.<br />
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Patrick and I were toying with different areas to move to, such as Bend (OR), Everett (WA), and Boise (ID), but none of them were really what we wanted. Bend is up and coming, but was still a little out of our price range. Everett, while beautiful, was in Washington, which was something we didn't want. And Boise housing prices are doing the same thing as the PDX area because of the booming tech industry (which would be good for us if we could get in there now), but... it's Idaho. It'll be a while before the area flips from red to blue, which is a concern for us wherever we go. And all of these options were just as bad as the next because... We've lived in Oregon for over three years, and we can count on one hand the number of friends we've made. Starting over in a new area in a new city <i>again</i> just seemed so... lonely.<br />
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So one day, while driving to dinner and debating all of these things, it hit us: Michigan is established, the tech industry is also growing, and my family is there. My sisters are growing up without me and it breaks me every day, and my older family is only getting older. Suddenly, the decision became so easy, and from that day forward we put the pedal to the metal and did everything in our power to make this happen. Once again, everyone we talked to thought we were not only nuts, but not going to follow through. But we researched areas, we found a realtor, a financial officer, and a title office. We narrowed what we did and didn't want in a house. It felt like that exercise that football players do, jumping one foot into each tire... Except all of the tires were moving and on fire and I had to jump in the tires from Michigan and Patrick had to jump in the tires from Oregon via the phone.<br />
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But we did it. After spending over a month and a half in Michigan away from one another and a lot of high blood pressure/eye twitching, we signed the papers and as of the middle of November, we will have made our way across the country and landed back in Michigan in our new home, keys in hand. Over five years ago, I did a similar trip with a friend who supported me wholeheartedly. Now, I do it with my husband and our two cats, to our new home that we've been dreaming of since the day we moved in together.<br />
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It's been a long road, and I never once thought I'd ever be back here, making the decision to move across the country again, back to where I came from, and to a place Patrick has never lived before. But here we are, and I couldn't be more excited. I only wish that my Babcia could be here to see it.<br />
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To everyone who has supported us through the last 5+ years, thank you. Thanks for letting me/us crash with you. Thanks picking me up at the airport when I arrive and dropping me off at grossly early hours of the morning. Thanks for darting around the metro area to meet me wherever and whenever I had time. Thanks for always being so excited for me/us to visit. And thanks for always being enthusiastic about all of these things, regardless of how bendy you may have needed to be in order to make all of it work.<br />
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<br />Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-3790465210825013912018-06-20T04:00:00.003-07:002018-06-20T04:00:59.777-07:00How Instagram is here violate your privacy and ruin your lifeI'm not going to get into the full story, but here are some events that happened in the spam of about two hours:<br />
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1. I took a screenshot of someone's post in my regular Instagram feed, which I am to understand does NOT notify them that you have done<br />
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2. I posted this screenshot to my IG story, with a hashtag. My account is private, and to my understanding hashtags do not make your story visible to the public.<br />
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3. The person I screenshotted was not allowed to see my story- I had hidden it from them, and I have proof of this. However, they somehow saw my PRIVATE, HIDDEN story and MESSAGED me about the post.<br />
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4. When I looked back to see who had seen the story, they showed up on my "seen" list with another person- who they in no way, shape, or form could know- and their name was faded out in grey with the word Hidden next to their name, indicating that even though the story was hidden from them, they had still seen the post. This was the same for my ENTIRE STORY FOR THE ENTIRE DAY when I looked back on it.<br />
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5. When I went to report this to Instagram as a privacy violation, I went to take a screenshot of the fact that there was an option to "unhide story" on their page... And that option was not there. Instead, there was the option to "hide story." This person and I are not close, and I do not know them well enough to trust them with some of the private thoughts I share on my story, so I KNOW they were hidden before, which means...<br />
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6. Something about either the screenshot from my feed of their post (not their story, which notifies people when you take a screenshot of their story) or the hashtag made my account public enough for them to see my IG story, therefore causing a major privacy violation.<br />
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This person and I have had a conversation about the post, and as a person who doesn't like confrontation and didn't think it was a big deal to leave their information in my story because NONE of the people who can see my story would know/care about who they are or what they're saying/posting, I am feeling incredibly violated by this... whatever it is. Bug, glitch, setting, what have you. It was genuinely enough to make me go back to Snapchat so I could stop posting on Instagram Stories.Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-66074991968173217792018-04-28T02:52:00.000-07:002018-04-28T02:52:55.102-07:00When You Can't Have Closure<div dir="ltr">
If there's one thing millennials have the desire to work on, it's their mental health. Not that we don't work on other things; if you are of the opinion that millennials are lazy and want everything handed to them on a silver platter, you should simply click away right now. Not because that is what this post will be about, but because I have absolutely no room for that opinion or negativity in my life.</div>
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Moving on, I have spent the better part of the last four years working on my own mental health. I've fought depression and anxiety for half of my life by now. I've been in therapy, I've been on medication, I've been in the hospital. But so far, the best healing that I've found have been the things I've done on my own (with some help along the way, mostly from people who are not mental health professionals).</div>
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I've been blessed with a spouse who understands that at this point in my life, since I have had to push it to the back burner for so long, my mental health is of the utmost importance. In order to be a functioning human being, I need to fix what's broken inside. However, delving deep into your own mind can be a scary and dangerous thing... But it can also be liberating.</div>
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I'm talking about repressed memories. It seems to me that the further you explore yourself, the better your own mind gets at exploring itself without your guidance, which can mean remembering a memory that you had locked away at 2am while everyone around you is sleeping, your spouse is leaving for another state the next morning, and you won't have anyone to talk this through with except for yourself.</div>
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Obviously, this happened to me. However, I was fortunate enough to develop a shockingly healthy habit a few weeks in advance to this revelation: video journaling. I'm the type of person whose thoughts move too fast for me to be able to write them down quickly enough. It's why I actually have a hard time writing, because my thoughts flow faster than my fingers can (despite the fact that I am a relatively fast typist), and why I have moved more toward voice-to-text while I am in the comfort of my own home. My limbs simply can't move like my mind does, so when I try to write down my thoughts in a traditional journal setting (I've kept many private blogs through the years, but can never seem to stick to them), I eventually get frustrated and stop. Which is why I began video journaling.</div>
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So when that repressed memory came charging back at 2am and I had no where to turn except for one single friend who was awake (bless the time difference... for once), they helped me by providing me with some tips they'd learned in therapy. And considering that this was a situation that I had no intention of bringing up with the person who featured in the memory (as the tips I received more or less leaned toward), I had to work through this on my own. Which is when I turned to video journaling.</div>
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And here, my friends, is where I tell you how I worked through four different scenarios on my own by giving myself the closure I needed, one being a repressed memory and the others simply being situations with other people in my life that have had no answers or resolutions. Please keep in mind that I'm sharing something that worked for me in a dark place, and that by no means is this the advice of a medical professional. If it works for you, fantastic. But try it at your own risk.</div>
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Step 1:</div>
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Turn on the camera and start talking. If this is your first time, introduce yourself and the situation. Explain what just happened. It's helpful if you can see yourself on the screen. Our brains like to talk to other people, so even though you are truly talking to yourself, your brain will flow a little better if it thinks it is having a conversation. It also helps with this next part.</div>
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Step 2:</div>
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Play the other person and <i>give yourself closure</i>. Apologize on their behalf for what they did to you. Explain their actions. <i>Rewrite the story.</i> Did you know that our memories aren't true memories? When you remember something, you are remembering the last time you remembered it. This is why memories become warped over time. You can literally rewrite your own memories by imagining over them. So <b>do that</b>. Stop the traumatic experience before it starts and, using dialogue (or whatever works for you), have a calm and rational conversation with yourself and the other person/people, playing all sides. Write the script in the way you need it to go. Don't forget the original memory or what happened, but change what you need to change in order to move past it.</div>
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While I'm not willing to share the repressed memory because it is much too personal, I am happy to share the other three scenarios that I rewrote for myself using this method. They're all friendships that ended without a word and without any closure. We were fine one day and the next, they simply stopped responding to me, after having been an integral part of my life for such a long time. So what did I do? I had a conversation with them. And on their behalf, I explained to myself why they did this, that they enjoyed my friendship but had to move past it due to reasons unrelated to me, that they wished me well, and that they were sorry that things moved in the direction they did.</div>
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I realized that I had been holding on to a lot of sadness that was parading around as anger towards these people, but today I feel like I've made a huge leap toward healing, and I no longer feel that anger. Of course I feel sadness, but I can feel it for what it is now; a loss. I talked to myself for over 25 minutes. I cried a lot and I was exhausted afterwards. But today I feel at peace.</div>
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This is a method that I will be sticking to for a long time to come and I've already started a list of "people" I need to have "conversations" <u>with</u> (although I may need an external hard drive soon; videos do not take up a small amount of space!), and I am happy to have come across it just in time for me to start taking my own steps toward healing. I may not be able to undo the damage that has been done, but I can stop these scenarios from creating more pain and hurt so that I can work on being whole again.</div>
Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-18132332699091829912018-03-23T14:38:00.001-07:002018-03-23T14:38:03.761-07:00Let's Talk About LoveSo <a href="http://brooknic.blogspot.com/2017/03/lets-talk-about-hsp.html">several posts ago</a>, I wrote about being an HSP and how I'd been attending a support group every week to help me manage my sensitivity, which has been one of the best decisions I've ever made. I also mentioned that I found the group on Meetup, and a part of it being a Meetup group is that new people are constantly joining. I would say that I'm one of about five regular attendees, and the rest have either been to a meeting before but don't attend regularly, or they're brand new. By now the routine of the group has changed (we've gone from weekly to monthly), but the core group remains.<br />
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It is truly very fascinating to see some of the new people who show up sometimes. Some are HSP, some aren't but they identify with some sort of social sensitivity, and some just show up to "check out the networking". One night, we had one of those "networking" type people show up, and while I was very overwhelmed by a lot of the information they provided, one thing they brought up really stuck with me:<br />
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They asked what love looks like to us.<br />
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It was a rhetorical question, meant to make us think and answer the question for ourselves, and that is exactly what it did.<br />
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I was very pensive the rest of the group, on the way home, and after I got home as well. I'd truly never thought about it before. I can obviously recognize love, but if someone were to ask me the best way to show me that they love me, I wouldn't have been able to answer them.<br />
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What does love look like to me?<br />
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I thought about all of the people who I feel love me the most-- which is to say, the people who make me <i>feel</i> the most loved, not that they truly love me more than all others.<br />
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I started with Patrick, and I thought about all of the moments where I feel most loved by him. For example, that morning I woke up from a terrible nightmare in which he died. I yelled myself awake, immediately went to find him, and he comforted me. I tried to go back to sleep afterward but I was still anxious, so I went out to find him again. This time he got up from what he was doing for work, spent as much time as was needed to make sure I felt safe and comforted, and then made sure that I was calm enough to get some more sleep by coming into our bedroom and checking the window shades, the blankets, and just overall making sure my space was comfortable. He didn't view me as an inconvenience for taking him away from his work or being emotionally needy. He saw that I needed something and provided it for me by going above and beyond, while at the same time never making me feel like I was being over the top, whiny, childish, etc.<br />
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When I woke up eventually (much later than I intended, but hey, nightmares don't really respect your timelines), I came out into the living room to find three gifts that he'd taken the time to wrap up (with Christmas paper, bless him). Why? He had ordered an add-on item from Amazon (which cannot be ordered by itself) and instead of ordering something for himself, he decided to go through my lists to see if there was anything I needed. So I woke up to a pair of gel moisturizing socks (which are INCREDIBLE), a boiled egg slicer, and a package of cable ties.<br />
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But why did he buy me things instead of something for himself? Because I'd been cleaning and organizing because we had a house guest, and he had seen how stressed out I'd been. It was a sweet gesture by itself, but then he went above and beyond to make the day feel like a mini-Christmas by wrapping up the items.<br />
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After I came home from group, I showered and kept thinking about what it means to me to be loved, and I thought about one of the most powerful things that anyone has ever said to me: <i>"You're a priority." </i><br />
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I know that to some people that seems obvious, or small, or insignificant, but to me to be a priority to someone is an honor. To me, it means that I add something so valuable to their life that they rate me higher than most things.<br />
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But what does all of that mean? Well, let's simplify it. Society deems "useful" people as people who can perform a task or a service. A lawyer is useful for their knowledge of the law. An architect is useful for their ability to plan out and create buildings. But I don't feel that I have any of those special skills. My skill is with the people I love, and as a result of being HSP I'm better than the average bear at dealing with people, comforting them, etc. However, most people don't view that as a real "skill", they just view it as being a good friend.<br />
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So to me, to be valued just as I am, with not a whole lot to bring to the table other than love and friendship, to be appreciated anyway is what makes me feel the most loved.Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-86125315820271542142018-03-23T14:12:00.000-07:002018-03-23T14:12:19.669-07:00How BMI can create a life-long struggle with food<div dir="ltr">
When I was just 11 years old, I began to develop breasts. It was December; I remember because the day I noticed was the day my best friend was staying over during winter break. </div>
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That summer, I went through an outrageous growth spurt. My girl friends started referring to me as "bubble butt." Fat started to redistribute on my body, and I began to gain in my hips and thighs against my will (and against my expectations- they didn't really cover body shape and weight gain in health class by this point, only menstruation and how the reproductive systems worked).</div>
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And then I entered middle school. It was a fragile time for me- I was very impressionable, as most kids that age are. I was trying to fit in and started to develop an interest in dating. For the first time, I realized that people could form an opinion about me based on looks alone. </div>
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That year was one of heartbreak for me, both in my social circle and within my family, and I had my first doctor's appointment since hitting puberty. In a fragile state of sadness, loneliness, and uncertainty, I had no idea what I was in for when my doctor said to me, "You're overweight."</div>
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She wasn't wrong, according to the BMI, which is what she used to justify this statement. </div>
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I didn't <i>feel</i> overweight. I didn't even feel like I <i>looked</i> overweight. Sure, I wore a pants size larger than my friends to fit my bubble butt and strong, muscular calves into. And sure, I wore a shirt size larger- my breasts had developed quite a bit at that point, and they wouldn't fit into a size extra small anymore. But these were specific parts of my body that carried this weight, and my doctor didn't know how to take that into consideration. As far as my measurements indicated, I was indeed overweight.</div>
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At that point, I began to spiral. What if I wasn't fitting in because I was overweight? The person I liked actually liked someone else- was this because I was overweight? The person they liked was so tiny in my eyes (news flash, they were about my size but shrunken overall, shorter but the same build appropriate to their height). Maybe I could be tiny too. </div>
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I began skipping meals. "I don't feel good," became my go-to excuse at dinner time. I wouldn't buy lunch, and would often go the entire day without eating. Sometimes I allowed myself to have a Pop Tart in the morning so that I would have the energy to go to school. After school, I took naps to compensate for my energy loss.</div>
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And then my friends started to notice. They tried- and failed- to reassure me that I certainly was <i>not</i> fat, that there was nothing wrong with me. And when that didn't work, my best friend at the time threatened me. She was going to tell my parents. </div>
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That was enough to scare me into submission, and I began to eat at lunch again- after all, she couldn't see what I ate at home. I would just skip breakfast and dinner then. </div>
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But that's when I learned to binge. I remember how delicious that first hot lunch was when I proudly showed her that I was eating lunch that day. It was a bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy. It was so warm and flavorful and salty and delicious- I had no idea about carbohydrates at that point- and what's more is that it <i>felt</i> good. The chewing, the swallowing. It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside in a way that food previously did not make me feel.</div>
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I figured that all food was equal- and for the most part, it was. I still had the metabolism of a 13 year old.</div>
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Once I started to eat lunch again, food became an addiction. I began to eat dinner again. I would have seconds and thirds. It was as though a switch had flipped inside my brain. In my worry that I would stop eating again, I essentially destroyed my own will power and my appetite increased, as though my brain was stocking up for later, urging me to eat as much as I could, whatever I wanted. </div>
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In a way it makes sense, but on the other hand it was cultivating terrible eating habits that I would carry with me for the rest of my life. </div>
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From then on, I was afraid to limit my eating, lest I stop altogether once again. If I wanted something, I would have it. I destroyed my ability to say "no" to food. </div>
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I carried these habits and these fears with me all throughout high school, and every year I continued to be about ten pounds overweight, but I didn't look like it. I was curvy- truly curvy- in those feminine areas, I still carried those thick ropes of muscle in my legs- which all accounted for the initial ten pounds in the first place that put me into the "overweight" category. </div>
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When I hit senior year, life became extremely stressful. I began staying home from school a lot. I began eating even more. That year I was 15 pounds overweight- and for the first time, I was actually overweight. I carried a little extra pudge. </div>
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Throughout these formative years, I continued to hate myself for it. Not a day went by when I was not focused on my weight and how I looked to other people. However, I continued to be afraid of limiting myself- of dieting, and what was more is when I did make any meager attempts, I failed almost immediately. I had ruined my will power.</div>
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College was even worse, and without the day to day activity of walking to and from classes like I did in high school, I began to pack on weight fast. There were some flukes, some ups and downs, in my early 20s in regards to my weight, but still I kept adding about 10lbs to my existing weight each year- only I wasn't getting taller anymore, like I was up until I was about 16. I was simply gaining weight, and I had no concept of how to deal with it. </div>
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Today, I am truly overweight. I have a hard time controlling my food intake- for me, food is a comfort, and one of the only things I can consistently rely on when it comes to making me feel better. And yet my self hatred in regards to food increases every single day. Every bite I take, I judge myself. I often avoid leaving the house if I'm feeling extra fat that day- <i>even though I am still at the national average for size and height. </i>Is that technically overweight? Yes. But there are more people my size out there than ever before. I should feel right at home surrounded by people my own size. Instead, I simply feel ashamed, like I'm not worth anyone's time of day simply because I'm no longer "thin."</div>
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What's my point? Here's my point: stop using BMI as a reasonable way to determine whether someone is at a healthy weight. Stop telling little girls that they are overweight when they don't have the physical or mental tools to deal with that information and do something about it. Stop assuming that your medical "opinion" won't have lasting negative consequences on a person's mental health, causing them to develop habits that will backfire and destroy their psyche</div>
Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-31700371587208561772018-03-12T21:20:00.001-07:002018-03-12T21:20:29.116-07:002016-2017 Crochet ProjectsIt's been a while since I've shared what I've made with my crochet skills (particularly because I just didn't have a great winter and had no interest in crocheting), but I've recently made some things that I'm insanely proud of so now that they've all been given to their intended recipients, I thought I'd share them!<br />
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Some of these were made in 2016 and I just failed to post them. Whoops!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5eyhZOlZ3fCkIQBQagZM2BCbbehX5CbYbfDHZ_VyVjppvvWR1Ugl-mPy9M0wo01fbIwarvNrIqxmsZ3QCtpMYNLdtrlcl546lakHHf_hP1_6S6_GSZL0Sx58KNg64IFq-J9nvwml6-cr5/s1600/20161206_160425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5eyhZOlZ3fCkIQBQagZM2BCbbehX5CbYbfDHZ_VyVjppvvWR1Ugl-mPy9M0wo01fbIwarvNrIqxmsZ3QCtpMYNLdtrlcl546lakHHf_hP1_6S6_GSZL0Sx58KNg64IFq-J9nvwml6-cr5/s320/20161206_160425.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1l3zvFvEIhAueUmSZL5o5-GlVIfEeSub-L4fAXJb6AVFv9rr0X7xpv3qpB4gMAdIRktJjpUdcV3w9YCVqUZmVoZ6QYFH5h3LpUZq6RBgMZ50LCXGPJLyUaeaoNQYt9bxVJHWX4oNVt1j/s1600/20161206_160429.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1l3zvFvEIhAueUmSZL5o5-GlVIfEeSub-L4fAXJb6AVFv9rr0X7xpv3qpB4gMAdIRktJjpUdcV3w9YCVqUZmVoZ6QYFH5h3LpUZq6RBgMZ50LCXGPJLyUaeaoNQYt9bxVJHWX4oNVt1j/s320/20161206_160429.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7tRtJ6kJTthePGzLxqx1z-t7ZXycbD6-bCWU0M-9joUAjKDqBZZya-61kxJZ_gNnfTnRVUbC6UzFi4WMwZsKWNmeoh7zN_vxgbE4ndJ9_0PiTiRhlqVI5h6cOpLTUj-MAX0ZgbP_aYGYR/s1600/20161206_160434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7tRtJ6kJTthePGzLxqx1z-t7ZXycbD6-bCWU0M-9joUAjKDqBZZya-61kxJZ_gNnfTnRVUbC6UzFi4WMwZsKWNmeoh7zN_vxgbE4ndJ9_0PiTiRhlqVI5h6cOpLTUj-MAX0ZgbP_aYGYR/s320/20161206_160434.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.redheart.com/free-patterns/team-cheers-earflap">Team Cheers Earflap Hat</a></div>
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For this hat, instead of using the recommended yarn (which isn't available in U of M colors for purchase here in Oregon and I would have had to order it), I used two separate colors and simply switched yarn where I felt stripes should go. If anyone is truly interested I have written out the breakdown of how many rows per stripe. Just ask! My only regret is the length of the braids. I wish I'd made them longer!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPx-Yp4o5CdrvSiHI0pGGjh4tUSORS271WzEAm6ujLLQq0_BnxqLe8PloEDos8Tf-LRk0WDpPE6Hg1jJU5p5yk8lOlVAoA5SA1yqbBiXU9gQoadboVmwoA3D2RqKJUedvbCfOEx2UHitOA/s1600/20160728_144352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPx-Yp4o5CdrvSiHI0pGGjh4tUSORS271WzEAm6ujLLQq0_BnxqLe8PloEDos8Tf-LRk0WDpPE6Hg1jJU5p5yk8lOlVAoA5SA1yqbBiXU9gQoadboVmwoA3D2RqKJUedvbCfOEx2UHitOA/s320/20160728_144352.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9Y5l8EpPmwO-mVYEUKdGYXYNVTdufHGDhyphenhyphenj1Q_bfxynLldYbRlbwJimer7_O4xVS8Z0aE_zYEgPDNe_K09tvDtG5rRlsa4iVgYWxiRIthUJncpBUu897jxkZGU1X1jlghCBtT1X7IOrX/s1600/20160728_144357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9Y5l8EpPmwO-mVYEUKdGYXYNVTdufHGDhyphenhyphenj1Q_bfxynLldYbRlbwJimer7_O4xVS8Z0aE_zYEgPDNe_K09tvDtG5rRlsa4iVgYWxiRIthUJncpBUu897jxkZGU1X1jlghCBtT1X7IOrX/s320/20160728_144357.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNQpCNhYfbc">Lily Pad Motif</a></div>
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These are so fun to make, and after just a few I had the pattern down and just kept cranking them out. I think they make great coasters! I also recently used them as buffet table decor at a garden party.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCEb0dx6lJfE2YFsRHyVSNz3KlwzvYWR5IW6bsGaLymi77rqAKRxgu1jZYv1da30RZex06Daiiopk0W4UMdkecrSgkVQe7b-Kl07kJV39gah-6cbFfA4cJgOBJRwuljA1VExjRsTmAmbeX/s1600/Hexagon%2526Elephant1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1197" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCEb0dx6lJfE2YFsRHyVSNz3KlwzvYWR5IW6bsGaLymi77rqAKRxgu1jZYv1da30RZex06Daiiopk0W4UMdkecrSgkVQe7b-Kl07kJV39gah-6cbFfA4cJgOBJRwuljA1VExjRsTmAmbeX/s320/Hexagon%2526Elephant1.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JA18ViIWl1IIpT5CYwhtknqjXYpKv9K7sajgEcVDrPFZc3q3JZgCUHsWtWrWyQrXeTtwQt-_-aIHO_qzhwro6Hup6WizH0oEIRjB6deMghg7A8pzxIzobJQd7Jug20dCuPC-VyrINK9c/s1600/Hexagon%2526Elephant3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JA18ViIWl1IIpT5CYwhtknqjXYpKv9K7sajgEcVDrPFZc3q3JZgCUHsWtWrWyQrXeTtwQt-_-aIHO_qzhwro6Hup6WizH0oEIRjB6deMghg7A8pzxIzobJQd7Jug20dCuPC-VyrINK9c/s320/Hexagon%2526Elephant3.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://makeanddocrew.com/happy-hexagons-free-crochet-afghan-pattern/">Customizable Hexagon Blanket Pattern</a></div>
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For the hexagon blanket, I chose to use an acrylic yarn instead of a cotton yarn (simply because we don't have a Hobby Lobby around here and I could not for the life of me find a cotton yarn at Joann's that had the same gauge as the yarn recommended in the pattern). So instead I used several colors from the Premier Yarns Deborah Norville Everyday line, which matches the gauge of the recommended yarn (and was a real pain in the butt to find, let me tell you. I spent a good 45 minutes in Joann's checking the gauge of almost every line of yarn). </div>
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Differences between my way and the original pattern:</div>
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1. The yarn recommended in the original pattern yields 7 hexagons. The yarn I used yields 10, with a bit left over for sewing. (Pro tip: I used an empty paper towel tube, cut 6 slits in each end like fringe, and then wound each yarn on the paper towel tube next to one another and stuck the ends in the notches I made, that way I didn't have to keep running back and forth between wads of messy yarn in order to stitch my pieces together at the end)</div>
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2. Original pattern uses 5 colors. When I was done with 5 colors (50 hexagons), I found that the blanket was too small, so I added a 6th color in order to keep from repurchasing 5 skeins of yarn just to get two more hexagons per skein. </div>
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3. I DID block my hexagons as recommended, but I found that acrylic yarn really doesn't need it and it was easy enough to identify the stitches I needed to put together when I laid it all out, plus my stitches are consistent enough now that the hexagons really were exactly the same size when I was done. All 60 of them. Definitely block with cotton yarn, though. Also if you decide to block with kebab skewers... Watch out for splinters. Once I learned my lesson, mine took about a week to come out.</div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/259891293/crochet-amigurumi-pattern-elephant?ref=hp_rv">Elephant Pattern (paid)</a></div>
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I loved this pattern as well! This was the first pattern that I've ever paid for and even though it killed me to purchase a pattern, I have to say that it was worth it. Here are my tips for this pattern:</div>
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1. Make sure to firmly stuff the entire doll, ESPECIALLY THE HEAD. I initially tried to make the head a bit softer and squishier because this is for a baby, but I found that it didn't stretch the head to the correct size and as a result when I tried to stitch the ears on, they were enormous in comparison to the head. I had to run out and purchase more Poly-fil (I'd run out after finishing the body and actually had to stuff the middle with a lot of scrap yarn-- thank god I'm strange and keep all of the bits of yarn that I trim off when I finish anything) and then pull tufts of it through the spaces between stitches with a smaller gauge hook. That took a good few hours out of my time budget!</div>
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2. Make sure you're counting your stitches. He looks perfectly fine, but somewhere I lost a stitch... then added one to make up for it... and then somehow gained an extra stitch... and had to decrease again in order to get back to where I was meant to be. I'd forgotten how intensive amigurumi is on my arthritic hands (because auto immune diseases make me into a little old lady, lucky me!), so even though it still bothers me knowing that there are random stitches in the doll, I simply couldn't bear to take out the rows and re-do them. After 60 hexagons and a 10 inch doll, I was popping Aleve like candy. </div>
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3. I made the doll with the same exact yarn that I used for the hexagon blanket (the dark grey) and used an F sized hook (which is a different weight of yarn and a different sized hook than the pattern calls for). Not sure how that affected things overall, but I think he's a great size. As a side note, if you use the yarn and hook I used, I needed a little over one skein of yarn and had to run out to repurchase just past the hips on the body (also I crochet things out of order-- the body was the last thing I finished so I really only needed like 15 yards or so more).</div>
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4. I love the top hat, but I really wanted to incorporate the colors from the blanket into the elephant to have them match. As a result, I ditched the hat, made a single crochet chain the same number of stitches as the last row of the body, and then made an itty bitty bow with <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dptDohXBac8">this pattern</a>. </div>
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5. The pattern tells you to use wire for the nose, but as this was for a baby I used my common sense and ditched the wire. With amigurumi, your stitches are very, very tight most of the time and as a result you really can mold a piece with your hands (for example, one of the arms was a tiny bit shorter than the other... So I stretched it. They look perfectly equal to me!). So I was able to bend the nose myself. Also I forewent safety eyes (because despite the fact that they are called safety eyes, they are not safe to use around infants) and simply stitched little black eyes in with some spare black yarn I had. I did pop in the safety eyes just to figure out where I wanted to stitch them in and then I removed them, and I will say that safety eyes 10/10 always make everything look more professional. So if you're not giving this to a teeny tiny choking hazard, USE SAFETY EYES THEY'RE THE BEST </div>
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6. If you decide to make this blanket pattern, I would highly recommend telling me so that I could tell you how I sewed it together. It was a really stressful point for me until I read through the comments on the page that explains how to stitch the pieces together and then made up my own method, which worked really well. The only thing I had trouble with was hiding the ends, and I'm almost positive that they'll pop out of their hiding places and just be little fuzzy surprises on the back of the blanket, but there's nothing I can do about that now!</div>
<br />Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-43364376246527852642018-03-12T16:53:00.001-07:002018-03-12T16:54:29.712-07:00DepressionYou go to bed one night, and while you don't necessarily have anything to look forward to the next day, you don't bear any ill will toward it. It should be just another day. You should be able to get up in the morning and shower, brush your teeth, wash your face, make breakfast, etc.<br />
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When you have depression, sometimes you really can't tell when it's going to hit. So sometimes, you wake up the next day and you just can't. You can't do any of it. And there's no clear reason why. It's as though someone has broken into your mind and taken you hostage.<br />
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It feels like there are two of you. One of them is the Real You, locked inside, with not enough strength to break through and override this new... Something. You don't know what it is, but it's familiar. And you hate it. This has happened before.<br />
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You end up spending the entire morning and early afternoon in bed. And you just <i>can't.</i> The Real You is screaming. "Get up! Get the fuck up! Get up right now, you don't have to feel like this. You can help yourself if you just GET. UP."<br />
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Sometimes, you can't get up. You will spend the entire day in that bed. You will forget to eat or drink. You will only get up to go to the bathroom once, and that's because you can't hold it forever. You will ignore all responsibilities and self care. You will spend hour after hour scrolling through the internet on your phone, begging to see something, <i>anything</i>, that makes you feel... Something. Anything. That thing might never come.<br />
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Other people pass you by on your various social medias. You barely absorb what's happening. The real you is desperate, banging at the bars on the windows of your mind to please<i>, please</i> let you out so you can join in the fun. It does look fun-- to do things, to move forward. To live life. But today, you can't do it. You care about nothing and no one. You can't even bother to care to hope that maybe tomorrow will be better.<br />
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But sometimes, the Real You wedges its way into the cracks of the bars on the windows, and you find that they're not so impossible to snap as you thought. Difficult, yes, but not impossible.<br />
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You start with getting out of bed and turning on the shower. Baby steps, you tell yourself. You get in the shower, and the routine of it sets in. You're able to complete your task with no casualties, and after that, everything seems marginally... smoother. Familiar.<br />
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You keep the ball rolling. You complete your face routine. You brush your teeth. You don't do a great job of it, but you braid your hair-- at least you did it. You pin it up, because you know that wet hair on your neck bothers you, and you can't have anything else bothering you today. You know that the progress you've made so far is fragile.<br />
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You get dressed-- in actual clothes that you can leave the house in, not just another set of PJs, nor even the PJs you took off when you got into the shower. Real, clean clothes. Clothes that you like. A favorite shirt, a comfy pair of jeans. You finally look presentable, if not entirely happy. You glance at the mirror several times but you can't look yourself in the eye-- yet.<br />
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You know you like tea, so you put the kettle on. Tea has been helping lately, on the days when it almost gets this bad. Tea will help.<br />
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The tea does help. And you're starting to feel things again. You start to notice you're hungry-- you haven't eaten for almost 24 hours. But not hungry enough yet. There is more progress to be made.<br />
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You throw open the windows-- it's a nice day for the second day in a row, after months and months of the gloom and rain of winter. You know you need the fresh air.<br />
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You already made sure that you're wearing real clothes-- a part of you was planning to go get the mail, and you didn't even notice. You're making routine decisions again-- a good sign. You walk, instead of driving, even though it's at least a quarter of a mile to the boxes. You know you need it. The Real You is getting stronger and the Something is gone now. The Real You is just undoing the damage, blowing away the fog. You know you can do this.<br />
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You walk to the mailboxes with your head down, not entirely thrilled to be outside but not hating it either. The sun feels good. You only hope that no one talks to you, because like the food, you haven't uttered a word in nearly 24 hours. You're not ready for verbal conversation. Baby steps.<br />
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You finally make it back to the house, mail in tow, and it strikes you-- you're finally hungry. You were always hungry, but now you care enough to do something about it and have the capability to do something.<br />
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You make lunch. You message a couple of friends. You pet your cat, who you notice looks very sweet in the sunlight.<br />
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Lunch is delicious. It dawns on you that you finally have wants and needs again. The fog has lifted, but the bridge you've built is still fragile. You are wary of the fog returning.<br />
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But you trek on for one more day. You won today. If it comes back tomorrow, you might not win. Sometimes the Real You is too tired of fighting to fight on that day. But maybe the next day you can do it. Maybe you can keep the ball rolling and keep doing it for several days in a row.<br />
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There's always going to be a day of weakness. Of overload. Where it's all too much. Outside forces can push you down, and you'll be fighting more than just the Something.<br />
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But today, you've won.Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-19344770975198842482017-08-04T13:00:00.003-07:002017-08-04T13:01:03.878-07:00A Semi-Surprise Michigan Trip!Hey guys!<br />
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In July I made a surprise trip to Michigan and I've been home for just a couple of days. I intentionally made this trip uneventful, preferring to simply hang out with family and friends in a very low-key way, so I don't have many stories to tell but I do have some photos to share!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORQrdcCdw_D3eZL7YORRwGLCCyk6ByneXAw-IDe6O0ONPs9jeWDPzukDIDA9KZwLaCbMpG_Q8-Jn8Nh2CfPVYN8-IUBbeDnqSZIpSpS-MxiUL6lCKmSCpJFiCb0JnbMUmhk2AtUWTNjL5/s1600/20170724_174338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORQrdcCdw_D3eZL7YORRwGLCCyk6ByneXAw-IDe6O0ONPs9jeWDPzukDIDA9KZwLaCbMpG_Q8-Jn8Nh2CfPVYN8-IUBbeDnqSZIpSpS-MxiUL6lCKmSCpJFiCb0JnbMUmhk2AtUWTNjL5/s320/20170724_174338.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Christina, Jackie, and Ella modeling their little purses that I crocheted for them</div>
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Ella opening her birthday gift from us</div>
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Ella and Lady, the neighbors' dog</div>
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Me and Babcia at bingo!</div>
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The girls fell asleep on the way home</div>
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Babcia, 97, enjoying a fidget spinner</div>
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The coolest domesticated wolves in Redford</div>
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Gotta get my Timmy's!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1yih9Ax1USjve1Enk7Vau2Dif-CEea0Tf6VWnrjZIxuASTR9ikjs8N9EdI40c_5wkvo1ueTkhqvfoAQ8Re4P_MNDG0Es30tuAt6t84lx9Gk6hjSkPeg-XX8CHjwn-H6pZZXx-j1TGdrQ-/s1600/Snapchat-524966437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1yih9Ax1USjve1Enk7Vau2Dif-CEea0Tf6VWnrjZIxuASTR9ikjs8N9EdI40c_5wkvo1ueTkhqvfoAQ8Re4P_MNDG0Es30tuAt6t84lx9Gk6hjSkPeg-XX8CHjwn-H6pZZXx-j1TGdrQ-/s320/Snapchat-524966437.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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Arbok</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5qOCIRNNU7uOBtX6qlCdI7BZy0ymnj6rkAgcHafwjHfFH27W4ctfmS6j3G6vfiB4fTulphuBPbZs9d4-FiD6oyX1-h2soXTSUDVpmIdWY1397rLLJ68BodNBk8EPDHVYl8NV26ntu3S9/s1600/Snapchat-578079362.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5qOCIRNNU7uOBtX6qlCdI7BZy0ymnj6rkAgcHafwjHfFH27W4ctfmS6j3G6vfiB4fTulphuBPbZs9d4-FiD6oyX1-h2soXTSUDVpmIdWY1397rLLJ68BodNBk8EPDHVYl8NV26ntu3S9/s320/Snapchat-578079362.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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Sweet Kayla!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsr5rvqmC0QmR1p5hz0gqeCYSTctZCJEoZNhTr8vPNhux9t6bGVmGQwk5_NXR61eVi8Z2szxglmRODh4pRtG0te85Gdqou3d8jk1udea1UdEX7tVo_kQiVBlRuJA_bmnBR89-_rGx7M3iT/s1600/Snapchat-368665571.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsr5rvqmC0QmR1p5hz0gqeCYSTctZCJEoZNhTr8vPNhux9t6bGVmGQwk5_NXR61eVi8Z2szxglmRODh4pRtG0te85Gdqou3d8jk1udea1UdEX7tVo_kQiVBlRuJA_bmnBR89-_rGx7M3iT/s320/Snapchat-368665571.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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Copper aka Houdini aka Hammy</div>
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See you next time, Michigan!</div>
Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-31533917452990023282017-07-16T15:45:00.001-07:002017-07-16T21:05:55.636-07:00Mini Mail Sack Purse by Pink ChalkHey y'all! There won't be a whole lot to this post other than sharing another purse I made with the <a href="http://brooknic.blogspot.com/2015/05/large-mail-sack-purse-by-pink-chalk.html">Mail Sack Purse pattern by Pink Chalk.</a><br />
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When I was 13, I had a very lightweight fabric purse from Target that I absolutely loved, and I called it The Magical Bag of Fruit. It was magical because even at 13, I was Brook "Always Prepared" Gasser (coined by Austin Evans circa 2012), and I had absolutely everything in it. It was like the Barney Bag-- filled with anything you could possibly need. I even used to carry scissors (and I still do... except now they're thankfully part of a Swiss Army Knife and take up much less room).<br />
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After a trip to Joann's recently, I found some fantastic food-based fabrics and I knew I had to make another Magical Bag of Fruit. For once I didn't go crazy with the customization-- I only lengthened the strap because I prefer cross-body bags and I tweaked the zipper step that is a part of the Large pattern (there is no zipper step in the Mini pattern-- I have no idea why, it wasn't that difficult to incorporate on my own).<br />
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So here's the finished product! My Strawberry/Lemon purse! Strawberry Lemonade, anyone?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb5ZmnuS-tXPyeNTEhGIKdwCWLtUc5ED6Xs1g47wU0IORiQXESFbVn8vFo-G89Ilvxzr-jbhEe4Bxp9jaGEz9oIJfVYaV18Hvw22_pWl7tB6q1X2dE60RbmXvrOnu7Qe9UYKvNzuId6vXS/s1600/20170716_153130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="752" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb5ZmnuS-tXPyeNTEhGIKdwCWLtUc5ED6Xs1g47wU0IORiQXESFbVn8vFo-G89Ilvxzr-jbhEe4Bxp9jaGEz9oIJfVYaV18Hvw22_pWl7tB6q1X2dE60RbmXvrOnu7Qe9UYKvNzuId6vXS/s320/20170716_153130.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjucUotxXtDJCKlIFRMr5kYbmZdJj7ZUEW5ZhQGF5nOnxsAcFUqnSmYWOcT6Wvvh636SlNfZpDA5gp87mCWYUFATZsg2IzFS4ijnCp10EPtx896QJDPX1SN5wt9oemd_W0Vaw6nfUhSJB7/s1600/20170716_111041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjucUotxXtDJCKlIFRMr5kYbmZdJj7ZUEW5ZhQGF5nOnxsAcFUqnSmYWOcT6Wvvh636SlNfZpDA5gp87mCWYUFATZsg2IzFS4ijnCp10EPtx896QJDPX1SN5wt9oemd_W0Vaw6nfUhSJB7/s320/20170716_111041.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4hLO2ZgohPpGz-bjb8W7g6Kx73IBc3wh8wMT1q-d8CWkNR4ibVpjX9mJLgOgOrTWGnqFQ7z6MiE9gZKMikYg3K9X71mficC1KMiDGQ2pHX3zS6azTr1p1i3yYRyw2DSjdeftezDF8Xmf/s1600/20170716_111215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1547" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4hLO2ZgohPpGz-bjb8W7g6Kx73IBc3wh8wMT1q-d8CWkNR4ibVpjX9mJLgOgOrTWGnqFQ7z6MiE9gZKMikYg3K9X71mficC1KMiDGQ2pHX3zS6azTr1p1i3yYRyw2DSjdeftezDF8Xmf/s320/20170716_111215.jpg" width="309" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisn3G3TzlRDuDOD5eVz2MPJ-i6sVMaRUTQqpO2MXgNT3LB_F2UxOP7V3Im_rQIzfTVAD5BTN8FebU-Sdh8J2DO5sGvZPb6tfZAAn1DPYLJzoXc1LtZUWni8RAO7K_oZaxj8avWyrRhe8H9/s1600/20170715_235348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisn3G3TzlRDuDOD5eVz2MPJ-i6sVMaRUTQqpO2MXgNT3LB_F2UxOP7V3Im_rQIzfTVAD5BTN8FebU-Sdh8J2DO5sGvZPb6tfZAAn1DPYLJzoXc1LtZUWni8RAO7K_oZaxj8avWyrRhe8H9/s320/20170715_235348.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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Here you can see the regular "divided pocket" that the pattern includes and my additional zipper pocket. I simply used a 7 inch zipper and adjusted the directions accordingly.</div>
<br />Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-38260238479157713902017-05-19T02:10:00.000-07:002017-05-19T02:12:29.018-07:00S.E. Hinton Q&A At Powell's Books<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was still in elementary school, several years before I was assigned </span><u style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The Outsiders</u><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> to read in school (I happened to read it in the 8th grade), when I discovered </span><u style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Tex</u><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> on the bookshelf at my grandparents' house. I often used to "check out" books from their collection; I picked it out as soon as my grandmother had told me that it had been my father's. Wanting to connect with him through that book, I took it home and eventually had "checked out" the book so frequently that it simply never left my bookshelf at home. That was over fifteen years ago, and it's made it all the way across the country with me (along with other books written by S.E. Hinton, several of which I own multiple copies of).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fast forward to 2017, and I've got half of an entire bookshelf dedicated to S.E. Hinton. First I fell in love with <u>Tex</u>, which I still re-read every few years, and then <u>The Outsiders</u>, through which I discovered another of my favorites, <u>That was Then, This is Now</u>, and her most recent work <u>Hawkes Harbor</u>. Although there are other books that I'll read more frequently, I credit <u>Tex</u> for inciting my love for novels (and old, worn out books). There's not a single book of Hinton's that I don't love, and for this reason she beats even JK Rowling as my favorite author.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Earlier this week, Patrick announced to me that she would be doing a Q&A and book signing at our local Powell's book store. Today I was blessed enough to attend (and even somehow worked up the nerve to ask her a question-- can you guess which?), after which she signed that beaten old copy of <u>Tex</u> and my beloved copy of <u>Hawkes Harbor</u>. Several months ago I purchased a signed copy of the 50th anniversary edition of <u>The Outsiders</u>, so I've got that as well.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4BJLqz6BzCLrKsREpW3RsfnNrQtIvuSfqhLxFsWx3Jr91ouSQQ9h76-NoJm46fxbJ_a9ZArG17DQU64JTywzfytlmNDVYPfZ1Pup_6NApgN4ZI8Y3Eyli5zTRwdKjjfM2Pbl8Z5GYVFS/s1600/20170518_200034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4BJLqz6BzCLrKsREpW3RsfnNrQtIvuSfqhLxFsWx3Jr91ouSQQ9h76-NoJm46fxbJ_a9ZArG17DQU64JTywzfytlmNDVYPfZ1Pup_6NApgN4ZI8Y3Eyli5zTRwdKjjfM2Pbl8Z5GYVFS/s320/20170518_200034.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>The following text is a transcription from S.E. Hinton's Q&A at Powell's Books (Cedar Hills) for the 50th anniversary of her novel <u>The Outsiders</u> on May 18, 2017.</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Hinton: </b>I never know what you all want to hear, so I’m going to open this up to questions so I will know at least one person has interest in what I’m saying… and young people, don’t feel silly asking me a question. You couldn’t possibly feel sillier than I do standing up here answering them.</span></span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-72de1c65-1fe2-87bd-a887-ab58b0f8cf34" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’m an English teacher and I’ve taught your book for years. It’s one of those stories that the kids just really latch onto. I know you wrote it when you were a teenager; was it an assignment?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh no. Not only was it not an assignment, I made a ‘D’ in creative writing while I was writing it. I’d been writing for years and it was something I wanted to write. Somebody just recently on this tour said, “Oh, weren’t you </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">devastated</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> when she gave you a ‘D’?” and I said, “No, I thought ‘Woman you’re gonna feel like an idiot,’” because I’d always known I wanted to be a writer. I hate that that’s my most known teacher story, because I had really good English teachers that encouraged me a lot throughout my whole history. But I found out that publishers will correct your spelling. They’re not going to can it off, give you a “D”, because you didn’t spell something right.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Where did you get the idea for Ponyboy?</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I can’t remember where I got the name, but he’s the character that’s most superficially like me in that he’s very much like I was at 14. I’ve learned as a writer, no matter who you think you’re basing your character on, they’re part you because you’re the filter. All of your characters have to go through you to come out on the page. I don’t care if you think you’re basing it on your best friend; unless you can mind meld with your best friend, that’s some part of you. So while Ponyboy was most like me, there’s some part of me was Dallas, or I wouldn’t have been able to write him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was wondering if you could talk a little about harnessing first person voice for each of [your] different books.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">First person voice is actually the easiest for me. It’s the easiest and also the hardest in that it’s very emotionally involving for me. I’ve been around enough acting to know that I can compare it to acting. The actor knows his part—he knows the whole screenplay, but he can’t act like he knows the whole screenplay. He’s got to be </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> person, and of course I’ve got a pretty good idea what the whole book’s going to be like, but I have to be the person I’m writing from. I think if you read my young adult books you’re not going to mistake Tex’s voice for Rusty James’s voice. They all have their own voice. To me that’s one of the fun parts of writing—be somebody else, go somewhere else, do something. I’m not one of those people who will ever write some woman having a midlife crisis and she runs off with the gardener. I mean, why would I want to do that? I want to write something like Hawkes Harbor where I can smuggle jewels out of Burma and run guns for the IRA and do all of this other stuff—to me that’s the fun part of writing. It’s not limiting to </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">your</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> life and not writing about </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">your</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">self, but getting the habit of other people. That’s one of the big things I learned about reading—I started writing in grade school because I read a lot, and I realized you can be anywhere you want to be. You can bungee jump into the future; you can visit the past. That is the joy of reading, and to me it’s a lot of the joy of writing too.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On the movie set of The Outsiders were you able to help the actors and directors to kind of get it right, like your vision?</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was there every day, and Francis [Coppola] gave me total leeway to help with the actors if I wanted to. He was having a lot of problems financially and he’d go, “Go run lines with the boys and see what’s going on,” so I had a lot of input for them... but they were all so good, I mean, they read the book. They knew what was called for. But I did get to help. The place I helped them most… they were little kids, they were turned loose in Tulsa with no adult supervision whatsoever. Tommy [Howell], that played Ponyboy, was 15. Rob [Lowe] had his 18th birthday on the set. Matt [Dillon] had just turned 18. These were little kids, so I immediately decided I was their mom, and like mothers everywhere I slapped them upside the head once in awhile. I didn’t want to know what was going in the hotel so I stayed out of the hotel… That’s one thing you learn as a mom; there are just some things you don’t want to know. But they remembered that, and I’m very close to all of them still. I just saw Tommy, and Darren Dalton who played the Soc Randy, and Ralph [Macchio]. Last month Rob Lowe came to town; he had his 18th birthday on the set, and he had his 53rd at The Outsiders house location. That was a lot of fun.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Where did you get the idea for the line “stay gold”?</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">That Robert Frost poem was something I read during the time I was writing the book, and I thought, “This is something like I’m trying to say in the book.” I couldn’t figure it out exactly, couldn’t put my finger on it, but I thought, “Yeah, I need this in the book.” So I went home and wrote the Robert Frost poem into the book. Then later when Johnny is dying and he says, “stay gold”... Ponyboy had talked about the poem, and Johnny had said, you know, it means try to stay as idealistic as you can. So that was where I got the idea for “stay gold”. I wish I had trademarked that. I’ve seen it on greeting cards: “stay gold.” And I’m going, “Where’s my royalty?”. But it’s nice to be known for that phrase because it’s a good phrase.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Is the reason you gave Cherry green eyes because Pony didn’t like people with green eyes?</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s a thing because maybe Ponyboy didn’t like himself. You know, when you’re a teenager there’s a lot of things about yourself you don’t care for. I think it helped him realize—because they both had green eyes and they both looked at the sunsets at night—and it helped them cross the boundaries to an understanding. So I think that’s why, but believe me, when I was writing the book I had no idea what I was writing. I’ve only figured out this stuff </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">years</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> later when people have written me letters and told me what I was writing.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have a new Mustang, do you still think they’re “tuff” cars?</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Oh, I think they’re so tuff. I think they’re just cool. But since I’ve started watching Supernatural... [‘67 Impala], whatever they drive… I love that car.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">What was it like to see your book get turned into a movie?</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was really great. Francis came into town and he wanted me to drive around the locations I was thinking about—which I did, I took a drive through the neighborhoods. He said, “Well, I think I’ll shoot it here Susie, you wanna help me?” and I said, “Yeah, I’ll be fine with that.” He and I wrote the screenplay together, we scouted locations together. One day I was working with Francis on the screenplay and he said, “Oh, we found the house we want to use for The Outsiders house, you wanna see it? I’ve got my bike outside.” And I said, “Sure,” so I go out there... He’s got this old, thick-tired bicycle and he wants me to sit on the bars! He’s got 60 pounds of camera equipment in the basket and he drove me over just a few blocks—where the house was—but believe me it was a treacherous ride. The prop man came by, jumped out, and took a picture of it... it’s really nice. I have it in my office and Francis has it in his.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">So few writers will ever have 50 years growing up with a book; I’m wondering if you think of it as a sibling or a child.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">50 year anniversary... I don’t like touring, it’s hard on me. I don’t like travelling. I don’t like speaking until I get up here and I realize no one’s going to attack me. But I mean, how many writers get to see the 50th anniversary of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">any</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> book, especially one like The Outsiders which sold last year better than it’s ever sold? That’s why I’m here today.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When you start writing do you find that you start with a character or a plot first?</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh, I always start with a character first. I can’t plot my way to a Safeway store. I know the beginning is easy for me because I get to establish my character, or characters, and their background and everything, and the ending—I’ve always known what the ending is for my book, and I </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">could</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> write the last sentence first. But how I get from here [indicates] to here [indicates], I go [demonstrates with index finger moving around in an unpredictable pattern] over here, so the plot is the hardest for me. I know my strengths. My strength is characters and revelation in characters through dialogue, which is why I love writing screenplays. But if I had to write a car chase, I’d go: “Okay the car went over here, and it flipped, and there’s another car, and it flipped…” So I like to play to my strengths.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why did you use the story </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gone With the Wind</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> instead of any other war story?</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t know, I was reading it probably. Believe me, I wasn’t thinking about anything when I was writing that book. People are going, “Oh, you did this religious symbolism.”... Oh, I did? And I was reading </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gone With the Wind</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, so I stuck in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gone With the Wind</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. When I was in high school, some kid dissected his worm in biology with his switch blade, so I thought: “Oh that’s great, I’ll go home and write that in.” People are going, “Is this intentional?” I’m beginning to think nothing is intentional. I just kept writing it. But your subconscious plays such a big part in your writing that I used to think maybe I could take a nap and wake up to find a chapter done. That happened with Hawkes Harbor. I woke up from a dream; I dreamed that I was on the ship that was smuggling gems and Kel Quinn, this Irish story teller, was telling this great story. I woke up laughing and I thought, “I’ll go with him!” That’s definitely subconscious. It’s hard to tell, especially for me, where things really come from.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Did you have any part in helping cast the incredible lineup for your movie?</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">No, the only part I had in casting the movie was I strongly recommended Matt for Francis because I worked with [Matt] on Tex. Tex was my first movie, and that’s where I met Matt. They didn’t seem to be looking at him, and I finally just asked Francis and the casting director. I thought maybe it was because [Matt] just did a movie with me. I said, “Please look at Matt for Dallas. He’s a whole lot more suited to play Dallas than he was Tex, and he did a great job in Tex.” So they did look, and Francis decided he was perfect.</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’d love to hear the story of how [</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Outsiders</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">] came to be published when you were so young!</span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’d been writing for eight years. It was the third book I’d written, the first I’d tried to get published. It was just in my drawer in my closet with stacks and stacks and stacks of stuff. A friend of mine at school mentioned that her mother wrote children’s books and I said, “Oh, I write books,” and she said, “Let my mother read it,” and she did. [Her mother] gave it to a friend of hers who not only was published—she had an agent. She gave me the name of an agent. I was a junior in high school; I didn’t know the difference between agent and editor and publisher. But I had a name and an address so I sent it to [Marilyn Marlow of Curtis Brown Limited]. She wrote back and said, “I think you’ve captured a certain spirit here, I’ll see what I can do.” She sold it to the second publisher who saw it. Marilyn remained my agent until she just died like fifteen years ago, and I’m still with Curtis Brown. When kids write me and go, “Well, how do you get an agent?” I go, “Google it!”, because God sent me my agent, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to wait around for God to send you your agent. That’s what happened to me. </span></span></div>
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Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-59937753361464855872017-03-25T15:42:00.001-07:002017-03-25T15:42:40.358-07:00Let's Talk About Being a WomanHey guys,<br />
<br />
So this isn't intended to be a very long post. In fact, I could probably just post what I'm about to say in a Facebook status, but this is where I document my thoughts and feelings so for the sake of keeping everything in one place, let's have a quick chat.<br />
<br />
(Although, in the wise words of my best friend, "That's why I wanna be a writer, because I get to argue with people for 90,000 words and they can't argue back." This certainly won't be 90,000 words, but it is a pretty one sided conversation. So let me rephrase: please allow me to talk at you for a few hundred words with little to no feedback) :)<br />
<br />
So, I'm genetically a female. I have ovaries. I have a uterus. Those things, blessedly, give me periods. Yay! And breasts.<br />
<br />
Have you stopped reading yet? Because ten years ago, I would have. How dare I talk about such a taboo subject.<br />
<br />
I've had periods for (if my math is correct) just over twelve years, and I've had breasts for about 8 months longer than that. Which means that for over a decade, I have had to buy menstrual products and bras. When I was just starting to go through those changes, unless you've gone through the same exact thing, you cannot <i>imagine</i> how absolutely mortifying that was.<br />
<br />
Before there was self checkout, I would avoid buying bras and menstrual products unless the cashier was a woman or my mother was with me. The few times I had to go to a male cashier because it was an emergency, my anxiety was at a 10 and I was absolutely mortified. I would hide my products at the bottom of my basket or tuck them under my arm as I walked up to the register every single time. I would duck behind racks of bras in Kohl's if I saw a male coming so that they couldn't see me purchasing something so <i>personal.</i> Yes, it is assumed that at some point someone who is has xx chromosomes will eventually grow breasts and start their period, but I didn't want a single person to know that and think of me that way. It made me feel dirty. I didn't want men to know what I might eventually be wearing under my shirt. I didn't want them to know that I would sit down later and have to insert something made of cotton into myself to prevent a small waterfall of blood from seeping down my legs. I didn't want them thinking of me sexually-- because, let's face it, vaginas and breasts are sexual objects to most heterosexual males, and they refuse to see them as what they are, which is <i>reproductive organs.</i><br />
<br />
I'm 25 now, and two weeks ago I spent at least ten minutes staring at tampons with my husband standing next to me. Several people passed by. I complained loudly that they did not have what I wanted in stock. And I could not have cared less.<br />
<br />
It's true-- the older you get, the less you care about the embarrassing things that seemed to matter <i>so much</i> to you before, but yes, I still feel that way. I still feel uncomfortable any time a male sees me in the bra or menstrual product department. But you know what? I'm just trying to live my life. These things are natural things that happen to me, and even though I may never embrace them (because honestly who enjoys periods? and I know I'm probably one of the rare ones, but I absolutely <i>hate</i> having breasts-- anyone have $10k to have them removed?), I'm over allowing men to make me feel uncomfortable for something that should be normal. And sure, maybe these things are all in my head... sometimes. But I can guarantee that my fears haven't always been insane, and that those thoughts have passed through the minds of men.<br />
<br />
And that, my friends, is one of the hundreds of reasons that I'm a feminist. I could go on for days about how it's not just about women but all genders, and it's not just about equal pay and harassment and uteruses and breasts and ovaries (because if you didn't already know, not all women have those parts!)... But I won't bore you with that (today).<br />
<br />
All I'm saying today is that if you want to stare at me while I buy my boob holders and cotton blood plugs, go right ahead, because I'm tired of feeling like a freak.Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-45940218496995481502017-03-17T11:25:00.001-07:002017-03-18T18:02:40.990-07:00Let's Talk About HSPHey guys!<br />
<br />
So I hinted recently about finally writing a post regarding HSP/what it is "in the future", and the future is right now! So let's talk about HSP. HSP, not to be confused with HS, which I talked about in <a href="http://brooknic.blogspot.com/2015/09/health-update.html">this post</a><br />
<br />
<b>What does HSP stand for?</b><br />
HSP stands for Highly Sensitive Person. This is an official term-- it doesn't apply to just anyone who feels sensitive sometimes. I know some people can hear or read "highly sensitive person" and think "Oh, I can be oversensitive sometimes too," however this term applies to a person who has a specific set of traits-- HSP is a title.<br />
<br />
<b>What types of traits?</b><br />
Here are some of the most common traits (keeping in mind that I'm basically paraphrasing from the hsperson.com website):<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Easily overwhelmed by pressure, often from having too many things to do in a short period of time</li>
<li>Feeling strongly affected by or even avoiding violent movies or TV shows</li>
<li>Feeling overwhelmed by loud sounds, bright lights, textures, or strong smells</li>
<li>Needing to withdraw and "decompress" after a long, stressful day, to a place where you can experience relief from the stress (such as a dark, quiet room)</li>
<li>Making it a priority to avoid upsetting or overwhelming situations </li>
<li>Having the ability to enjoy and appreciate smells, tastes, sounds, or art that others aren't as affected by or can't notice at all</li>
<li>Being able to pick up on and even feel other peoples' emotions yourself, often better than others can (this is often considered being an empath, which is part of HSP)</li>
<li>As a child, having been described by adults as "shy" or "sensitive"</li>
</ul>
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<b>What does that mean?</b></div>
<div>
Basically an HSP's brain takes in too much information-- <i>everything</i> can be overwhelming. What an average person considers to be an average amount of anything can be too much for an HSP. Strong smells can give them headaches, loud noises can startle them easily, certain tastes can be too strong, fluctuating temperature can feel too hot or cold to the extreme, and most importantly, emotions-- their own or anyone else's-- can be so strong that they can be debilitating. </div>
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Imagine the last time you were stressed out by something so overwhelming that you felt like you couldn't move past it-- a difficult assignment from work or school, maybe a frustrating situation with a friend or family member. That's how an HSP can feel about something as simple as a car alarm or the smell of something they don't like cooking. But consider that some of those things can happen all at once. </div>
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Let's take a doctor's office for example. Picture it: there are phones ringing. It's too cold. There are babies crying. The fluorescent lights are <i>so</i> bright. Everything smells like rubbing alcohol. The doctor is taking <i>forever</i>. Someone at the front desk is crying, begging to see a doctor but being continuously told that their insurance has been cancelled, and there's nothing you can do to help. And to top if off, you're there because you're sick, so everything is already increased by a tenfold. Remember those stressful assignments that we talked about? They're building up, stressor on top of stressor, in the form of sounds and smells and sights and emotions. And let's not even talk about the stress of <i>actual</i> assignments. There's a reason I never excelled in college!</div>
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After you leave the doctor's office, the stressors are gone, but now in addition to being sick you're beyond exhausted from having to deal with them and all you feel like doing is going home to take a nap, so you do. </div>
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But that's every day for HSP's, <i>especially</i> for those who work and go to school and have children. Every single day is a nap day.</div>
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Being an HSP can be a gift. We're able to pick up on subtleties that not a lot of other people can. There's something beeping? We can find it. A gas leak? We'll know. Something rotting? No problem, we'll figure out what it is. Something bothering you? Don't worry, we can pick up on that sort of thing, and you'll know that you're not alone and that we're there to listen. We also take in beauty like other people can't-- sunsets, art, music, are all incredible in a way that we can't even put into words.</div>
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<b>How do you know if you're an HSP?</b></div>
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You can take the test <a href="http://hsperson.com/test/highly-sensitive-test/">here</a>! Personally I score 28 of 28, hooray!</div>
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Think your child or a younger person that you know might be an HSP? You can take that test <a href="http://hsperson.com/test/highly-sensitive-child-test/">here</a>.<br />
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And <i>sometimes</i> it's diagnosable by a psychologist... but keep reading.</div>
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<b>Why don't I know about HSP already?</b></div>
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Well, not a lot of doctors or counselors know about HSP-- any psychologist I've spoken to so far learned about it <i>after</i> school and they're not very knowledgable about the condition beyond the title/general traits. And it's actually <i>too common</i> to consider a "condition" with an official diagnosis. 20% of people are HSP's! It also seems as though it's genetic-- I would classify most of the people on my dad's side of the family, (within our immediate family, aka my aunts, uncles, and first cousins) as HSP's. But most of these people don't even realize exactly what's bothering them, only that they're consistently stressed out and everything that seems "normal" to average people is just too much for them. </div>
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Before I discovered that I am an HSP, life seemed so overwhelming. I truly felt like a child who threw temper tantrums at the littlest things. I've known about it for about two years now thanks to my darling best friend Ellie who told me about it (excitedly, might I add-- she found out about the term one day and immediately after was blowing up my phone, thrilled to be able to shed light on something that affected me so strongly), and every single day I learn something new about myself that I never noticed before I knew about HSP (for example, why hot showers give me panic attacks). My entire life is shaped by being an HSP, and the more I learn about it and the more I speak with other HSP's, the better I can handle myself and do what I can to adjust my environment so that I can live a peaceful, "normal" life. I've even joined a local Meetup group-- a support group for HSP's so that we can share our stories in a safe, comfortable spare surrounded by people who understand what we're going through, as well as share tips and tricks to manage the different aspects of being highly sensitive.<br />
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Basically, everything is overwhelming and I really have to take care of myself to make sure that I can function as a human being (and I'll be doing an HSP tips and tricks blog in the future), but I'm working through it. I'm learning about myself, learning to love and accept myself for who I am, and finally learning that I'm not broken like society has always taught me.</div>
Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-11139735779593994762017-02-17T16:19:00.002-08:002017-02-17T16:27:04.324-08:00Take a Break!Hey you guys,<br />
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So just in time for me to have published a post about my deteriorating mental health last week... After this weekend, I feel like a new person. Truly.<br />
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So I talked before about how ever since October or so, my mental health has been declining. This has everything to do with the political climate and the fact that people are feuding everywhere and my poor little HSP heart can't take it (which, now that I mention HSP, I realize I still have yet to do a post on it. Or have I? I don't think I have, but I will get to it. Basically, just know that my brain takes in too much information and I am more affected than most people when it comes to emotions, sounds, textures, smells, etc. Basically all of the senses are overwhelmed). Point being, it hurts me to my core to see people being mean to one another or even for me to feel hate in my own heart, and I didn't realize just how much that can affect me until recently.<br />
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I was having a rough(er than usual) time in the few days leading up to my birthday, and I really wasn't looking forward to our weekend plans. Turns out I really should have, because they changed everything.<br />
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So a few weeks before my birthday we decided that that weekend we would take a mini trip to the coast to celebrate a bunch of things. February 7th-15th is big for us because the 7th is my birthday, the 14th is obviously Valentine's day but it is also the anniversary of the day we officially met and started dating (in 2013), and Patrick proposed to me on the 15th in 2014.<br />
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We unplugged from the world and left on Saturday morning. Our destination was Astoria, but first we stopped in Tillamook for lunch and ice cream. I had a grand ol' time learning to suck the ice cream out of the bottom of a waffle cone (because apparently that wasn't a thing I learned to do as a kid), got covered in ice cream, and shouted "Oh no!" many, many times.<br />
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When we got to Astoria, we settled into our river-view room and took a nap, and that night we went to dinner at our favorite Japanese place in town. Possibly the most interesting thing about Astoria this time around was that apparently during this time of year the sea lions make themselves right at home on the outcroppings of rock, the docks, and basically anywhere they can haul themselves up to... and then they bark. Forever. And ever. They do not stop barking. Apparently they do not sleep. But for some reason even though one would assume that the barking would drive me insane, I found them to be highly amusing and for the rest of the weekend Patrick and I would "Bork bork bork!!!!!!" to each other.<br />
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On Sunday morning we packed up and stopped in Seaside on our way home, where we meandered around the aquarium (taking lots of fish selfies) and fed the seals (a lot, because seals are the best and these ones will either snort or clap at you so that you will throw them fish), then stopped in and had lunch at our favorite place on the boardwalk.<br />
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Was the weekend super extravagant and long and filled with crazy adventures? No, but I don't want any of that. This was exactly what I needed; all of my favorite things with my favorite person in my favorite place. I woke up on Monday feeling refreshed and calm and simply happier than I've been in months. Apparently sometimes all you need is to get away for a few days to reset your mind, body, and soul.Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-28386333986110256692017-02-08T02:26:00.000-08:002017-02-08T17:07:51.281-08:00Maybe 25 Won't Be So Bad<div>
Hey guys,</div>
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So I expect that this post will be a little more somber and less upbeat than usual. I mean, I do usually write my posts when I'm in a good mood. But I've just finished crying (good crying, I promise) and I feel like in order to be true to myself and to this blog (which I'm not sure anyone reads anymore since I've deactivated my Facebook and therefore have a much smaller platform to share my posts on) I need to share the good and the bad. I swear that this post has a happy ending, I really do. I have every intention of posting it along with a very nice Instagram collage if all goes well. </div>
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So anyway, let's start with the bad.</div>
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I've posted about <a href="http://brooknic.blogspot.com/2015/01/the-struggles-of-depression-and-anxiety_13.html">anxiety</a> and <a href="http://brooknic.blogspot.com/2015/01/the-struggles-of-depression-and-anxiety.html">depression</a> in the past, and when I wrote those posts I felt like I was in a very good place. So many people (I literally mean people I've never spoken more than five words to or even flat out openly hated in the past) came out of the woodwork to share their stories with me and ask me <b>How?</b> How did I get better? How did I fix myself? The answer varied in different conversations, but I the bottom line was always that I truly believe that taking myself out of a toxic environment and finding a partner and a group of friends that loved me and embraced me for me changed the game entirely. </div>
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But sometimes the environment can change, and things can get worse again. Sometimes the toxic environment can follow you. Sometimes that toxic environment can swallow up the entire country and make things bad again. </div>
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And it has. </div>
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Since about October I've been feeling more and more down (although as a small bonus, my anxiety has taken a back seat to my depression, which is a common thing I've learned can happen in people who experience both illnesses). I deactivated my Facebook. I cut off communication with a lot of people I couldn't stomach anymore. I've tried to fill my days with kittens and rainbows and things that make me happy. </div>
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Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. I am definitely getting better. I've done a lot of crying today, thanks to having seen The Perks of Being a Wallflower for the first time (those happy tears I was talking about). But in general, since hitting an extreme low about three weeks ago, I have been doing everything in my power that I'm willing to do (and by that I mean all of the easy stuff and none of that "cardio" my doctor keeps talking about... I'm not sorry) to lift my mood, and it has definitely been working. I'm keeping a chart. I've changed a bit of my diet. I'm keeping up communication with the friends and family that love me and support me. I picked up a couple of new hobbies that I'm working on.</div>
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As a result of how I've been feeling lately (which, let's be clear, is because my feelings are easily hurt and the fighting/hatred going on in the country lately is really making me very sad), I've really not been looking forward to my birthday. </div>
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I turned 25 today. I say today because I haven't gone to sleep yet, therefore it is still my birthday. But if you want to get all technical, my birthday ended just over two hours ago. My point is, and the entire point of this post is, I really haven't been looking forward to turning 25. Turning a quarter of a century old is supposed to be one of the "big birthdays,", but it was even <i>less</i> than "just another birthday" to me. Every year my birthday comes with a little bit of dread. I dislike being the center of attention and that just comes with a day dedicated to you, you know? But this year, as the days crept up to my birthday, I just felt numb toward it... And then it got to be February 6th, the day that I was going to celebrate my birthday because Patrick had the day off of work (until the weekend when we head off to Astoria, Tillamook, and Seaside), and I started off the day with a bang. </div>
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Because within <i>maybe </i>a half an hour of waking up, I was sobbing. </div>
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I think it was a combination of things that set me off. First of all, the general feeling of the weight of the world (you guys know that feeling) was really killing me that morning. Then, it was the neighbors below us that have been making us miserable with their stomping since the day they moved in. I had also just woken up from what was apparently <i>too much</i> sleep (?????????), and therefore I was a little off balance. I was out of my good cereal and the cereal I thought would be "just fine" tasted like literal sawdust (pro tip: Don't buy the Kashi GoLean cereal if you care about yourself). I was experiencing an <a href="http://brooknic.blogspot.com/2015/09/health-update.html">HS flare up</a> after months of peace with a nice, red, angry cyst smack dab at the bottom of my widow's peak which made my entire face extremely painful (and unsightly). A lot of little things were piling up on my heart and in my mind that morning</div>
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So midway through my bowl of literal sawdust, I burst into tears. </div>
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After lots of hugs, an English muffin with "<i>so</i> <i>much</i> butter" (as I requested it from my chef *cough* I mean my loving, doting husband), opening my surprise secondary gift from Patrick (because we purchased my official birthday gift together about a month ago), and curling up on the couch to watch Space Jam, I was feeling much better. I rejected my original idea of going to paint pottery at Color Me Mine that afternoon and just opted to go to Benihana later in the evening, both ideas which I initially threw out that morning because I didn't think I could cover my forehead with any type of makeup with as much pain as I was in.</div>
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So February 6th, although it got much better in the evening, started off really, really rough. And though it got better in the afternoon/evening, I thought that there was no way in the world that my actual birthday could be even remotely decent. </div>
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And you beautiful people all proved me wrong. My friends. My family. My loved ones who, <i>just when I think I know what to expect from them,</i> continue to surprise me at every turn. And now I'm crying again, but they're still happy tears, I promise. They're tears for you all. </div>
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I'm not the only one who has a lot of stuff going on lately. Every single one of my friends and family members is going through something rather serious right now, whether it be medical, financial, of emotional. Some of them are being hit with more than one. Or even all three. </div>
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With the way I've been feeling, I don't know how thoughtful I've been towards others lately. But regardless of what they've been going through, all of my loved ones came through yesterday and today. You wrote me things. You sent me flowers. You sent me little gifts that made you think of me. You, without even being prompted by Facebook because, as I've said, I'm no longer on there, <i>still wished me a happy birthday</i>. My grandmother even, in her typical nutty spirit, answered the phone when I called her back after a nap and <i>in the middle of buying her bingo tickets</i> sang me happy birthday. </div>
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I've been so frickin tickled and touched all day by all of the little and big things that the people I love the very most in the world did for me. Maybe it's because I'm over emotional anyway (and still raw from a good movie cry), but man am I just feeling the love. </div>
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So yes, I'll continue to struggle with my mood in the future. I'll have good days. And I'll have really bad days. But on those days, I'll remember today, with the happy birthdays and the gifts and the I love yous. I'll eat an English muffin with <i>so much</i> butter. I'll watch Space Jam. And I'll remember that my 25th year of life kicked off pretty damn well.</div>
Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-6575268476365637442016-12-01T17:20:00.001-08:002016-12-01T17:20:29.079-08:00The Dangers of Sharing InformationYou guys, it's been a while.<br />
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I'll be honest and say that I've been struggling emotionally and mentally, but that is neither here nor there. It's just a truthful statement about where I've been in reference to my absence from this blog. But that's not the point of today's post.<br />
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Let's talk about internet safety and social media.<br />
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Today Patrick and I received a Christmas card in the mail that was addressed to the previous tenants at our apartment. So what does my crazy husband do?<br />
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He looks up the last tenants on Facebook.<br />
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I had a Facebook. I have an Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, and Tumblr. I'm probably on another few less popular social media accounts . But here's the thing: my Facebook, Instagram, and one of my Twitters (one is more frivolous and the other is for more serious stuff) are all on lock down.<br />
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Were I still on Facebook and we were not friends, you would find the following information about me: One profile photo, one cover photo, that I am married to my husband, and that my last name changed from Gasser to Powers. That's it.<br />
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Were I still on Facebook and we <i>were</i> friends, you would find the following information: The same info listed, plus my past posts. You can't see my friends, my past employment history, my school history, or where I live. I'll also be honest and say that I used to list all of that information, but that was until I learned how it could be used against me. And this is certainly not to brag; it's a comparison... because listen to this.<br />
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In a matter of less than five minutes, Patrick was able to find out the following information by just doing a Facebook search on the last tenants:<br />
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- The reason they moved out was because they had a baby<br />
- The baby's full name and DOB<br />
- That the woman who lived here had a problem with the same neighbors that we had a problem with when <i>we </i>moved in.<br />
- The woman's birthday, where she works and for how long she's been there, where she goes to school and what she's studying, how old she is, that she's religious, that she used to be a party girl, that she is trying to be healthier, that she's looking into daycare for her son and she lists which daycare (keep in mind that we were easily able to find out the baby's name), that she sells Lularoe, where she was originally from and where she lives now, that she enjoys going to a specific farmer's market around here, and MUCH MORE.<br />
- Where the guy was originally from, that he races cars, likes "bad" music (Patrick's opinion), he's into guns.<br />
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If we had wanted to take it any further, we could found them on other social medias and we could have looked up public court records as well, because those are free to access if you find the right links and have names.<br />
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So this is an obvious a problem that a lot of people don't realize we have. Can you imagine how helpful all of that information would be to someone more malicious? To someone with ill intentions?<br />
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Even if you think that you're being safe with your information, take another look. Check to see what people can see publicly on your own social medias AND your kids' social medias. have a calm conversation about why you're doing this and why it's a real concern.<br />
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In this same realm of concern, check to see what information your <i>car</i> is sharing. That's right, your car. The other day when Patrick and I were driving, we saw a woman driving a car with two window decals on the back windshield, one for her son and one for her daughter. And just by glancing at those stickers, we knew that the kids were in high school (and therefore we had an age range), which high schools they went to, their NAMES, the boy's jersey number for football, the girl's cheerleading team, and that they were likely well-off because the car was nice and the schools were private schools. I also draw a lot of information from those stick figure decals as well-- how many people there are in your family, if you have a dog at your home that I need to be worried about, the approximate ages of your children and usually their sexes.<br />
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It's all information that someone can use in a bad way, and I can understand a person's want to brag and share their beautiful family, I mean even I have this blog and it's not in any way protected, but it's pretty hard to find unless you have the link.<br />
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When I was a single woman I was so paranoid about what I left out in my car, and that paranoia only worsened to the point where eventually I removed every single visible trace that I was a woman and what my age was (which meant taking down my graduation tassel from my review mirror and hiding my college notebooks/textbooks, in addition to everything else). When people know information about you, they can target you. You don't necessarily need to be scared or paranoid, but do try not to let these people use your information against you. And while you're at it, watch a few episodes of Criminal Minds. Maybe fear is what some of us need.Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-22596471379522433522016-07-27T11:14:00.001-07:002016-07-27T11:14:22.710-07:00Goonies Never Say Die!Hey everyone!<br />
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So my last two posts were about <a href="http://brooknic.blogspot.com/2016/06/i-love-michigan-summers.html">heading back to Michigan</a> and the things that I've <a href="http://brooknic.blogspot.com/2016/07/2016-crochet-projects-thus-far.html">crocheted so far this year</a>, but in the midst of all that I forgot to post about the awesome mini-vacation that we took after I got back from The Mitten!<br />
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For Patrick's birthday this year we decided to head to someplace we'd never been before: Astoria, Oregon! I have to say, it was nothing short of incredible. I've only ever been to a couple of beach towns before (all of them in California) and it was awesome to go to someplace with beautiful weather and a really lax kind of living but still get to stay in Oregon. I just love this state, you guys.<br />
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Though it was only supposed to be a one night trip, Patrick's work schedule opened up and we were able to tack on a second night and leave for our getaway a little bit early!<br />
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On the first day we wandered around town, checking out the different shops and museums and whatnot that they have there. For those who don't know, Astoria is the town in which The Goonies plot is set. And again, for those who don't know, The Goonies is one of my top two favorite movies (which I can't choose between). The actual Goonie house is still in town! Although we weren't able to go right up to it because apparently some fans have recently ruined the experience for everyone by going up to the currently occupied home and bugging the current owners to look inside and take tours, which is completely inappropriate. The house is actually on very short dead end street and there were signs posted that the residents would call the police. It seems a bit of overkill, but we weren't going to take our chances or disrespect the owners' wishes.<br />
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<b>The view from our hotel room</b></div>
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<b>The coffee shop on the corner of the block that the Goonie House is on</b></div>
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<b>A dog that apparently hangs out in the shop with its owner and decided to pose in the front window (and yes, he was a real, live, moving dog)</b></div>
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<b>A big tree. I really didn't get the whole story behind it, it's just big.</b></div>
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We also went to see The Astoria Column, which I didn't quite understand until we came right up to it. I'll link a bit of info on it <a href="http://astoriacolumn.org/">here</a> so that I don't explain it incorrectly. We had a great time driving through the neighborhoods and seeing all of the pretty houses on the way there!<br />
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<b>The view from where the Astoria Column stands</b></div>
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Before we turned in for the night we headed to the pier right outside of our hotel and had a snack and drinks at Rogue Brewery. I wasn't a fan of the "Fruit Salad Cider" that I ordered so I made Patrick finish it (it had a strong whiskey flavor that I couldn't get past, but I at least tried it... obviously still on the search for tolerable alcohol!), but I did really love the tater tots I had!<br />
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On the second day (Patrick's birthday) we went to The Seaside Aquarium. Seaside is another beach town just across the bridge from Astoria. We got to feed seals and check out a color-changing octopus, as well as a bunch of other sea life! For lunch we went to someplace that Patrick was really gunning to try called Pig 'N Pancake. They gave him a piggy ornament for our Christmas tree for his birthday!<br />
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We were also able to go check out the three museums in town, The Oregon Film Museum, The Flavel House Museum, and the Columbia River Maritime Museum. The OFM is actually set in the old county jail where the opening scene in The Goonies was filmed! Though it was quite small, we were able to walk through it and see the actual jail cells and buy a couple of souvenirs. Patrick even won us a couple of buttons by correctly naming ten movies from a bunch of quotes on the wall/ceiling from films done in Oregon!<br />
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The Flavel House Museum was one I didn't actually realize was a museum until Patrick pointed out the sign, all I knew was that there was a pretty house and I wanted it. Too bad it's in use! What really appealed to me was the tower room, which was of course off limits. I was pretty bummed about that, but the rest of the house was really neat!<br />
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<b>The Flavel House garden</b></div>
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Finally we hit the Columbia River Maritime Museum, which would have probably been very interesting if I hadn't had the hiccups the whole time. The place really echoed and I was way too embarrassed to pay much attention! We went back to the hotel for a nap before dinner that night.<br />
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<b>This is a house that was for sale right near the Maritime Museum. Its intended purpose is/was a bed and breakfast! Patrick and I snooped through it and just about died over the original 1888 decor. Anyone have $579,000?</b></div>
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On our last day we left the hotel and first drove through Cannon Beach, which is where yet another scene in The Goonies was filmed-- the Three Rocks scene and the diner scene. The diner has since been remodeled and the area around it has been built up (because who wouldn't want to rent an apartment on the Goonie beach??), but we had a fun time walking in the rain on the beach because I insisted I wanted some sea shells.<br />
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<span style="text-align: start;"><b>I bought a rain jacket when we got home.</b></span></div>
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<b>Click to see a panoramic of Cannon Beach!</b></div>
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We also took a bit of a detour on the way back and stopped at the Tillamook Cheese Factory for some lunch and a few grocery items to take back with us.<br />
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It was a short but totally enjoyable trip! In fact, now that we're both playing Pokemon GO, Patrick and I are probably going to drive back to Seaside this weekend for some more sight seeing and Pokemon hunting. I'm so grateful to live close to such beautiful places!<br />
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Some other general life updates are that thanks to Pokemon GO, we've been getting out way more (almost every single night you can find us at our local park where I'm actually talking to people, can you believe it?!), and that I'm currently recovering from a recently diagnosed but pretty old shoulder injury. I'm still waiting to get in to physical therapy but I am actually doing what my doctor told me to do (icing the heck out of it, taking the anti inflammatories that she prescribed, doing the PT moves I've been given so far, resting it as much as I can, etc.). I even got a body pillow to try to help me sleep so that I'm not rolling over to the injured side.<br />
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We're also going to have a busy-ish week next week since our friend Mike is coming to visit/run a Spartan race <i>and</i> my cousin and her fiance are moving here from Indiana! Her fiance is going to be finishing up school at a local college and I'm excited to have them both around! She and I didn't get to see each other much growing up because of the long distance and I find it funny that we have to move all the way across the country to be close to each other! <br />
<br />Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-61635608060588303862016-07-20T15:51:00.000-07:002016-07-20T15:51:29.166-07:002016 Crochet Projects Thus Far!Hey guys!<br />
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Here's a quick, mostly-photo filled post of most (if not all) of the crochet projects that I've completed so far this year. Like always, I will try to post the link for each pattern, however please keep in mind that I almost always tweak something in one way or another so you may not get the same result!<br />
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First up: An owl and some baby hats (pink and purple-- the green was a test hat that used different yarn and therefore didn't turn out as well) for <a href="http://brooknic.blogspot.com/2016/06/i-love-michigan-summers.html">the baby from my last post</a>, Leia! As a teeny tiny baby, she's still growing into the hats, but that just means she'll be able to wear them for many months to come!<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRycyBdMq6I">Owl Pattern</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S4P3zGP1FaM&feature=youtu.be">Baby Turban Pattern</a></div>
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Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy dolls! I actually don't have a pattern to give you because I came up with the pattern myself. I made these dolls down to the very last details, including their screen-accurate wands, their hand-painted ribbon scarves, and Harry's glasses, which I hand-shaped and painted! They're weighted down with pennies for stability. These were given to one of my lovely best friends, Ellie. She lives in Australia, so that's where they live now!</div>
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Along with the Draco and Harry dolls for Ellie, I made a Golden Snitch for her and myself! </div>
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<a href="http://beccadoodle.blogspot.com/2013/08/golden-snitch-crochet-pattern.html">Golden Snitch Pattern</a></div>
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My cool ripple afghan! This took quite some time and quite a lot of yarn to complete. I believe there are 13 colors in total! Maybe one day I'll add a border, but I finished the main part of the blanket and then got tired of doing it! :P (In the photo, the blanket is upside-down. The top is actually at the bottom and vice versa)</div>
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<a href="http://www.michaels.com/seafarers-blanket-crochet/B_44361.html">Cool Ripple Afghan Pattern</a></div>
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Stego! This was for my friend Kerry, who loves stegosauruses. He is probably the most difficult project I've ever attempted, and because I hate sewing pieces together, I put the project down for a few months, so he took quite some time to complete. His feet are weighted down with Canadian quarters!<br />
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<a href="http://thebuttonship.blogspot.com/2013/07/free-pattern-hello-stegosaurus.html">Stegosaurus Pattern</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzOSLvEUZjMICvya4Lrsbhlje4X9BMT7N5taA0kFrVpW2HkgsPSm6uDRVCpQmNFZqIoRqbYOZLJAXWjIX1kGbghhuS93yFRkZA5cAvqKMyVlpz9CAtX6aoEXF48o_3Jc-kaz_pdxymBKVO/s1600/Snapchat-3801871281241989916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzOSLvEUZjMICvya4Lrsbhlje4X9BMT7N5taA0kFrVpW2HkgsPSm6uDRVCpQmNFZqIoRqbYOZLJAXWjIX1kGbghhuS93yFRkZA5cAvqKMyVlpz9CAtX6aoEXF48o_3Jc-kaz_pdxymBKVO/s320/Snapchat-3801871281241989916.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0BK4Qn3p7La_hUEFdG-2k5lUyMLBrbCF9jiVC5FZEVpXd0iFTcvXt8wktbCpV_xaslaUfyWrr7BTuBhapuEK4CpqywZTzvf5fqJ9L0h4SglQDoErjLmwDxq2StZYyCVKVm9PZL_KNOT8/s1600/Snapchat-5026877299645546650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0BK4Qn3p7La_hUEFdG-2k5lUyMLBrbCF9jiVC5FZEVpXd0iFTcvXt8wktbCpV_xaslaUfyWrr7BTuBhapuEK4CpqywZTzvf5fqJ9L0h4SglQDoErjLmwDxq2StZYyCVKVm9PZL_KNOT8/s320/Snapchat-5026877299645546650.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgrleHO7mYLZSZRnJ770WTytvkDdM0FGsQETazI9yQEawrwr1S_zVewZ2d4gOaSNTv1-UUnHEPMAD8eV0GL0_Wt-ZXOL2Ta9AjvXE39zX1CA82aQodd0jg_7wMhgfKFe_Jkxj0FzSPr57/s1600/Snapchat-7394222151165898220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgrleHO7mYLZSZRnJ770WTytvkDdM0FGsQETazI9yQEawrwr1S_zVewZ2d4gOaSNTv1-UUnHEPMAD8eV0GL0_Wt-ZXOL2Ta9AjvXE39zX1CA82aQodd0jg_7wMhgfKFe_Jkxj0FzSPr57/s320/Snapchat-7394222151165898220.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This giraffe lovey is for a friend of mine who just found out that they're going to be a parent for the first time! The giraffe is, of course, a nod to my love of giraffes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD3VVmtJNkKGlu_sClF_5BP3EkIt-r6gnS72fFgeoyuKHgowFplhwlG00r30Wt0zyeifvl8ORIqK2TPcrobm9HmJyn1BakA42cVsvwR-OORs5El1k790lLXkNiAwg5n8RX2Hf8bqxgp2r9/s1600/Snapchat-1708485117495841042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD3VVmtJNkKGlu_sClF_5BP3EkIt-r6gnS72fFgeoyuKHgowFplhwlG00r30Wt0zyeifvl8ORIqK2TPcrobm9HmJyn1BakA42cVsvwR-OORs5El1k790lLXkNiAwg5n8RX2Hf8bqxgp2r9/s320/Snapchat-1708485117495841042.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/giraffe-lovey-4">Giraffe Lovey Pattern</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8E2QzZbJLZjerijipmYyV24Q09N1zzx27vLtDK9eQzQ3QcuZNvLH1ZE-jAAY0ESZeWfxwq-UC6NKhhR3eA78xylQ2vdpOlqUcblVnB4nMHE5w8H2Fr5xM6kEGuaj-6HRMiXBOYP1AMYUC/s1600/Snapchat-4304728849404727085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8E2QzZbJLZjerijipmYyV24Q09N1zzx27vLtDK9eQzQ3QcuZNvLH1ZE-jAAY0ESZeWfxwq-UC6NKhhR3eA78xylQ2vdpOlqUcblVnB4nMHE5w8H2Fr5xM6kEGuaj-6HRMiXBOYP1AMYUC/s320/Snapchat-4304728849404727085.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This bunny lovey is also for the baby Leia!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbBX2FLZ1_oktwul61UQV-YQe3e9fdxaAl1RhWl0I4BZn-QuDewarNehdI0YPXrQcwHXGddC-y6sFGizg_mloJUma7FHYgUyXxwVDoi2QRvFXsW-lj0fb5huR_ABJKLXGqKW6ETVMdnEp/s1600/Snapchat-8204478621036286352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbBX2FLZ1_oktwul61UQV-YQe3e9fdxaAl1RhWl0I4BZn-QuDewarNehdI0YPXrQcwHXGddC-y6sFGizg_mloJUma7FHYgUyXxwVDoi2QRvFXsW-lj0fb5huR_ABJKLXGqKW6ETVMdnEp/s320/Snapchat-8204478621036286352.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/cute-bunny-comforter---lovey">Bunny Lovey Pattern</a> </div>
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(of which I only used the bunny part-- for the blankie part, I used the same pattern from the giraffe lovey)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAAaAMNb0d94p3YyihdsOvcP8RQSS48JNOXjElXIy1KGU21wTFWV3z25DzfkRmZQ9YOmigwtW66dbhSw5hhshiYWOnjl-uxcUM2Q6BDRXZUn2V7uOpnF2Wh7Gw68Kq0mQMNbjAoWKQIufo/s1600/Snapchat-5929703635137900068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAAaAMNb0d94p3YyihdsOvcP8RQSS48JNOXjElXIy1KGU21wTFWV3z25DzfkRmZQ9YOmigwtW66dbhSw5hhshiYWOnjl-uxcUM2Q6BDRXZUn2V7uOpnF2Wh7Gw68Kq0mQMNbjAoWKQIufo/s320/Snapchat-5929703635137900068.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRnvmL_8MNAO4O13CrhMHYSwQFbjP9V28l0ZCtq9DsEPSFkY0GdXygk2L4ZKKOfXhgZTiTGfiurDxhIrO9Fng44VRKD80MD1QehP3oruiudJleOCzLBrLeRBX-DP5BfN4qdbGd78yAXhqv/s1600/13698235_10208627540384053_3228958202110317192_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRnvmL_8MNAO4O13CrhMHYSwQFbjP9V28l0ZCtq9DsEPSFkY0GdXygk2L4ZKKOfXhgZTiTGfiurDxhIrO9Fng44VRKD80MD1QehP3oruiudJleOCzLBrLeRBX-DP5BfN4qdbGd78yAXhqv/s320/13698235_10208627540384053_3228958202110317192_o.jpg" width="186" /></a></div>
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<b>Here is Leia and her bunny lovey!</b></div>
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<i>Photo courtesy of Karen Bova</i></div>
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Yet another project that I don't have a pattern to give you for is this Spongebob! A request from a friend for his nephew, Spongebob took a while to complete because I was making the pattern up as I went (when am I going to finally say "Yes, $4.99 for a pattern I'll get to keep forever <i>is</i> worth the time it will take to make up my own"?). I wanted something that I knew would keep its shape instead of bulging out through the stretch of the pieces, so I settled on 2" foam padding for his insides. His tie, shirt collar, the blue/white of his eyes, and teeth are all bits of felt that have been machine-stitched on, and his smile and eyelashes are hand embroidered.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Jkg2AJJNKDxz_dHVjCOfs7MIxt1jkgJK22DKR-ptFMLyZpOino7xzF2szjTIfqwQywQlYMi3d0ORxmlTeP47EchoAixJE7qKDhPUEOLhhmfYH5SMRsOX8h1cE4QiPQzsiGfm2MdBkmiS/s1600/Snapchat-3334636253271338036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Jkg2AJJNKDxz_dHVjCOfs7MIxt1jkgJK22DKR-ptFMLyZpOino7xzF2szjTIfqwQywQlYMi3d0ORxmlTeP47EchoAixJE7qKDhPUEOLhhmfYH5SMRsOX8h1cE4QiPQzsiGfm2MdBkmiS/s320/Snapchat-3334636253271338036.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-waVF_ZdhVfV4GADm1Au9jGGea2MBIzP02_GHfU1x7GEgnzZODyALjw8PsBKB6vaeFZHeqjMUR4KGrFt2tjKPksutthMjkh_VXhq5EnTEHoC_4BuNSIyAQTAL-EANYseMo0GlAHRtsNIW/s1600/Snapchat-8005692026823023353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-waVF_ZdhVfV4GADm1Au9jGGea2MBIzP02_GHfU1x7GEgnzZODyALjw8PsBKB6vaeFZHeqjMUR4KGrFt2tjKPksutthMjkh_VXhq5EnTEHoC_4BuNSIyAQTAL-EANYseMo0GlAHRtsNIW/s320/Snapchat-8005692026823023353.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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That's it so far! I've got two other items in the works right now, both requests, but I'm having a hard time concentrating while crocheting lately so they may take some time. :)Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-34641434188901317512016-06-30T10:34:00.001-07:002016-06-30T10:34:50.024-07:00I Love Michigan Summers!Hey guys!<br />
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It has been <i>quite some time</i> since my <a href="http://brooknic.blogspot.com/2016/04/house-guests-health-trips-and-more.html">last post</a>, but I finally have some good stuff to talk about since I'm just back from a Michigan trip! I had a fantastic time while I was there and I can't wait to share some of what I did with you all.<br />
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This time around I decided on a longer trip, which seems to be a theme with my summer trips home. I didn't go back during the summer last year so it was great to get to go back this year and do some of the things I've been missing so much!<br />
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First up, I got to see lots of family!<br />
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The day after I flew in, I got to go back to my elementary school and watch my oldest younger sister walk out for the very last time as a student there. Next year she'll be in 5th grade in a new school, which is something we didn't have when I was her age. I stayed at Cleveland through 6th grade and <i>then</i> went to middle school, which is now known as junior high!</div>
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I also got to attend one of Ella's T Ball games. I was shocked at how well she did; she definitely should have been in little league or something! She was one of the most enthusiastic players!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_uFTcoBRBOq2DLTWQ-egJZaGqN5KP4VsVJoQ0uGDgPRaz19Nj4d8P2ek4E372826ASP7BelBAl17X1_4rhc29YCZx7ZaEQKA0PhdsSUqZrE_6YNuhI9DeShCrjSVaOiYUn_rT_27CKOc/s1600/20160618_101653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_uFTcoBRBOq2DLTWQ-egJZaGqN5KP4VsVJoQ0uGDgPRaz19Nj4d8P2ek4E372826ASP7BelBAl17X1_4rhc29YCZx7ZaEQKA0PhdsSUqZrE_6YNuhI9DeShCrjSVaOiYUn_rT_27CKOc/s320/20160618_101653.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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I reunited with my old friend, Arbok the corn snake, along with his owner Zach and the two new kittens living with them! Lots of furry kisses!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSXrWV8_S3GtEk_dhMNaILlCtFK6U5WktFa0ftH97cGKatqQBIfO7N7xYkM8Vt-3Igy8ytE6hKEWv4XbI50huWAfCvlG_-v-ASAmlUh3xvn3nfst0ZNlt3_ejE3OVBx0_3ULXG7EGgyxr/s1600/Snapchat-7305389685598500246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSXrWV8_S3GtEk_dhMNaILlCtFK6U5WktFa0ftH97cGKatqQBIfO7N7xYkM8Vt-3Igy8ytE6hKEWv4XbI50huWAfCvlG_-v-ASAmlUh3xvn3nfst0ZNlt3_ejE3OVBx0_3ULXG7EGgyxr/s320/Snapchat-7305389685598500246.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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I met my sisters' hamster, Shadow, and he became my pocket buddy. He is the coolest hamster!</div>
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Obviously, Better Made chips were a must. James and Nate know what I'm talking about!</div>
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On Saturday I was able to see lots of family that I haven't seen in 10+ years when I went to my cousin's graduation party! It was great to see everyone :)</div>
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If I'm able to plan a trip around a holiday where I know all of my family will get together, I definitely try to do that so that I can see more people. I was lucky to be able to do that this time around, and I spend Sunday between the two sides of my family for Father's Day.</div>
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On Monday, which of course had to be one of the hottest days of the year, I sweated with my sisters, my mother, and Kerry through a zoo trip. I don't think I've ever flown through the zoo as fast as I did that day. I even had to carry poor Ella through the last quarter mile of zoo because she just couldn't keep up!</div>
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After the zoo, we drove to meet my mom's friend Karen, and her fresh newborn baby, for lunch. On the way there, there was a ton of traffic for this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxjgKT8X2UGPMIbLE4MHuTn3_t1DhTLeadVXIfIuMdhhyphenhyphen2n70J2wd0vZ8VYyavu-6gxKNSMPH-tgEx8CmbuF_STb1nDOWipcva1d-H-vNJbG0nJblf2MElC_n4nT7mmkANPTmLouBm8YT/s1600/20160620_120514%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxjgKT8X2UGPMIbLE4MHuTn3_t1DhTLeadVXIfIuMdhhyphenhyphen2n70J2wd0vZ8VYyavu-6gxKNSMPH-tgEx8CmbuF_STb1nDOWipcva1d-H-vNJbG0nJblf2MElC_n4nT7mmkANPTmLouBm8YT/s320/20160620_120514%25281%2529.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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They created a full-color statue of that famous WWII photo of the soldier and the nurse kissing. I hope I can go back to see it when it's fully set!</div>
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<b>Baby Leia!</b></div>
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After a long, cold shower, I spent the rest of the night getting my new tattoo and then going out to dinner with my friend Jeremy. I'll probably make an entire post about my new tattoo because I've had lots of questions about it, but I also need to take a current photo once it's done healing, because the process this time around was not easy or pretty and it looks a bit different than the photo I took the day after getting it done. If you follow me on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/brooknic/">Instagram</a>, congrats! You've already seen it that photo!</div>
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One of my other goals in going to Michigan this summer was heading up to my grandparents' cabin in Hubbard Lake, MI. I hadn't been up there since 2009! I loved going up there as a kid and I was excited to be able to go again with my grandparents. My first order of business was picking a bunch of wild flowers, then I went down to our dock to check out the water, which was really choppy and rough the first day I was there!</div>
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<b>Here you can see the water spray from where a wave hit a wooden barrier</b></div>
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My first night there I made the mistake (or maybe it wasn't a mistake, due to the outcome) of leaving my window open all night. I woke up around 4am totally freezing! Once I got up and dragged another blanket down off of a shelf, I was wide awake, so I made the crazy decision to grab a doughnut and a banana and then I went down to the dock to watch the sun rise. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ym6XJmVhjranRyU2mGPZ2vPQezxU190LOJl1apPtZypLtRHV-4DHU-zoTTy3HAgPh_a9GPla8m4PNLM4f3as1Pj1WXJ8yxYopmP2js7Bp5x30i5bDZllXtQ98l98ufQIObjgTsXowLRR/s1600/20160622_053029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ym6XJmVhjranRyU2mGPZ2vPQezxU190LOJl1apPtZypLtRHV-4DHU-zoTTy3HAgPh_a9GPla8m4PNLM4f3as1Pj1WXJ8yxYopmP2js7Bp5x30i5bDZllXtQ98l98ufQIObjgTsXowLRR/s320/20160622_053029.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqlvjmUVMrjnCYHmPleg-zJKHhoQ1KPFcIW8Yg_azaaZQIQNA-yJcuwTasQrBCnXC-dRrr8TwgyYLpJNgRktMkHdEPb3uotyK7xn7pArH-4u61OzVGDEYo2WEeDglyOibD9VmZvQNwqBPl/s1600/20160622_054223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="47" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqlvjmUVMrjnCYHmPleg-zJKHhoQ1KPFcIW8Yg_azaaZQIQNA-yJcuwTasQrBCnXC-dRrr8TwgyYLpJNgRktMkHdEPb3uotyK7xn7pArH-4u61OzVGDEYo2WEeDglyOibD9VmZvQNwqBPl/s320/20160622_054223.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>This photo is much larger than it appears. Click it to see a panoramic of the sunrise over Hubbard Lake!</b></div>
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That night we went to Smoky's to dinner. Smoky's is the local restaurant just down the road, which is super popular! We somehow turned up on a night that wasn't so busy and we had a delicious dinner. It was great to see the place and all of the renovations since the new owners bought it.</div>
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The next full day that I was at The Cabin, I did a bit of exploring, I took a nap, I drove the golf cart all over the place, and my grandma and I went out to get ice cream. I got one of my favorites, Moose Tracks, but this one was super tempting just because of the name:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjrDj9_eO_DP8LuJh2UchBnPUqNYM1WLMMGT6kyNRhLG59q0tsxkmAZkL-uxSGrRcy9CPFTnTz6h0Q0xFau5QCmMpfqaJOdm2b-6Y9xZuEBfzKXb_CpACSHeVUYy-dXjbYw9j0fHBrLbYO/s1600/Snapchat-4257858073438259624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjrDj9_eO_DP8LuJh2UchBnPUqNYM1WLMMGT6kyNRhLG59q0tsxkmAZkL-uxSGrRcy9CPFTnTz6h0Q0xFau5QCmMpfqaJOdm2b-6Y9xZuEBfzKXb_CpACSHeVUYy-dXjbYw9j0fHBrLbYO/s320/Snapchat-4257858073438259624.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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I also got to see the sun set that evening. I'm so glad I decided to invest in a new phone before I left for this trip, because it took some incredible photos!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcYPtLfad6wNKDOmtqX73Zz1XlpfHCDzj-lLHvi3kDu1oaotoeT7vRfQH-Q1rceqMFx_g-63J6hWDAFPYesyFDsPtJdzx9kUdNEu7PTtkHwpfOxeoWLVp53MQmNuvov1hEJ1wtMS6fTcWz/s1600/20160622_210525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="45" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcYPtLfad6wNKDOmtqX73Zz1XlpfHCDzj-lLHvi3kDu1oaotoeT7vRfQH-Q1rceqMFx_g-63J6hWDAFPYesyFDsPtJdzx9kUdNEu7PTtkHwpfOxeoWLVp53MQmNuvov1hEJ1wtMS6fTcWz/s320/20160622_210525.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>This photo is much larger than it appears. Click it to see a panoramic of the sunset over Hubbard Lake!</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGb8_jvJJ2YfKuB53TWCNSPghb1KVIR0R-z_sRrDUjyzFAC51kJ26xG4WfRSSXqtOT9jN8GoCYSjwpQHx-rsILekhQXgmHDbzsgjD0w1y58anCkGjafLCYo3yAO_9AT0LU72drGinfq2-s/s1600/20160622_210718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGb8_jvJJ2YfKuB53TWCNSPghb1KVIR0R-z_sRrDUjyzFAC51kJ26xG4WfRSSXqtOT9jN8GoCYSjwpQHx-rsILekhQXgmHDbzsgjD0w1y58anCkGjafLCYo3yAO_9AT0LU72drGinfq2-s/s320/20160622_210718.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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After a four hour drive home, I got to see my friend Lady again :)</div>
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<b>I met a dog. Her name is Lady. I, the least dog-person-y person you have ever met, love Lady the dog. Unfortunately I wasn't allowed to bring her home because her owners love her too. She lives across the street from my mom, who I was staying with, so I got to see her often!</b></div>
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The day after I got home from The Cabin, I spent a night in Wyandotte with my friend Megan. It was so much fun! After a super late start because <i>someone </i>locked themselves out of their apartment, we had dinner at BD's Mongolian BBQ. Afterwards, we stopped in and got pie from this place called Dangerously Delicious, then we stopped in at a coffee shop and inadvertently saw a magic show (which I got a deck of cards from as a souvenir for participating in a trick). After a long walk along the water (where I waved hello to Canada!), we went out for some supplies and then spent the night at her place making bath bombs. Definitely not recommended, bath bombs are so difficult!<br />
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<b>A tiny free library. How cool is that?!</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCgkWllRVC38MIH4rYV9UVBG1KwAa2TqR05maD3lXqtJn0kFKp8FAwuDiD0IhWg77oSyNC4BzMF1VTOlFU3Zenyxqs2cFSiHW__oxkIgrqGp51OMBc1BrE9f5jK-Rgb8IBxEb6g30JCnN0/s1600/Snapchat-3400859595530427801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCgkWllRVC38MIH4rYV9UVBG1KwAa2TqR05maD3lXqtJn0kFKp8FAwuDiD0IhWg77oSyNC4BzMF1VTOlFU3Zenyxqs2cFSiHW__oxkIgrqGp51OMBc1BrE9f5jK-Rgb8IBxEb6g30JCnN0/s320/Snapchat-3400859595530427801.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<b>Steve the Magician</b></div>
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<b>The pier in Wyandotte</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHmjvyJ1zjr5GU8AKSPLe0iDuapPJHpD-UOdn8AgOvqDlRk_1gs0OhaZ_dgoFW4B2dncoJVwRJlWdgQKR1mIKMEczdtFyejbtkwGxMvR6MhU65GQQ-miRp-3UuEO9DMpZucCltkne4brnI/s1600/20160624_203318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHmjvyJ1zjr5GU8AKSPLe0iDuapPJHpD-UOdn8AgOvqDlRk_1gs0OhaZ_dgoFW4B2dncoJVwRJlWdgQKR1mIKMEczdtFyejbtkwGxMvR6MhU65GQQ-miRp-3UuEO9DMpZucCltkne4brnI/s320/20160624_203318.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<b>Hello Canada!</b></div>
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<b>Lady!</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQZMS9pE20cM-Dn5nh6OT0NyOqN6IFCF9C5VnNx74-DWj_ASPKXrSFYavNT7Rm2839B_qyyC2aui2tA8C5L-fXxfOHEK7DSzuVnn4sXQX-a5KBsrjgvkFnXrYw3-uO3Y2NxJ-reADaXTr/s1600/20160626_213210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQZMS9pE20cM-Dn5nh6OT0NyOqN6IFCF9C5VnNx74-DWj_ASPKXrSFYavNT7Rm2839B_qyyC2aui2tA8C5L-fXxfOHEK7DSzuVnn4sXQX-a5KBsrjgvkFnXrYw3-uO3Y2NxJ-reADaXTr/s320/20160626_213210.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>Sunday Sunset in Livonia, MI</b></div>
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<b>One of the things I wanted to do this year: see the Spree fireworks! </b></div>
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One of the very last things I did on this trip was take Ella to get her ears pierced (for the third time, apparently-- hopefully this time they stay in).<br />
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Other things I did on this trip include:</div>
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<li>Lots of time with friends and family</li>
<li>Trips to The Han D Dip! Boston Cooler, yum!</li>
<li>Sheesh! ;)</li>
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On Tuesday morning I flew home, only to get straight into a car and drive to Seattle! There, we stood in line for so many hours I don't even care to count them in order to meet Chuck Palahniuk. I've tried to read two of his books and I'm personally not a fan of his writing style, but Patrick adores the man and was so thrilled to be able to meet him and have him sign a few things for us. It was a long day and I was crabby, exhausted, and starving by the time we left the book store, but a hole-in-the-wall Pho place fixed one of those problems, and a shower and a full night's sleep mostly fixed the other two. The next morning we drove home where I got to see my kitties, unpack, and finally relax in my own bed after 16 days away from home. </div>
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<b>The crosswalks in Seattle!</b></div>
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It seems that each trip I take home becomes easier and more fun, and this one was no exception. I'm thrilled that I was able to take this trip this year and I already can't wait to go back! Summer in Michigan is the best!</div>
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<br />Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-44938935529803115442016-04-24T11:13:00.001-07:002016-04-24T11:16:55.144-07:00House Guests, Health, Trips, and more!Hey you guys!<br />
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Wow, has it been a while since I've posted! In fact, I don't think I ever even bothered to post about how I went back to Michigan in December to see my family and friends and to have Patrick meet all of them! I'll probably get around to that someday, and I've obviously done a couple of posts since then, but it has been two whole months since my last blog post! Whoops!<br />
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The simple truth is that I just haven't done anything that I felt like dedicating an entire blog post to... so now that I've done a bunch of things, you're getting a master post! Get ready for a mishmash of information regarding the things that have gone on in the past two months!<br />
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So the first awesome thing is that we finally finished our anniversary puzzle! Do you guys remember <a href="http://brooknic.blogspot.com/2015/10/first-anniversary-adventures.html">the puzzle</a> I had custom made for Patrick for our first anniversary? Well we've been working on it since late November and we FINALLY finished it in January! Not only is it completely put together, but it is also glued within an inch of its life and framed in on the largest piece of wall we have left in our house which is actually in the kitchen (but it looks great!).<br />
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We also had our first house guest in January! I failed to mention it in any of my other posts, but Patrick's daughter Jackie came to stay with us about a week or two after we got back home from Michigan. We had a great time showing her around Portland and the surrounding area. I'm so glad that she got to spend some quality time with us, especially with her dad, which is something that obviously doesn't happen nearly as often now that we don't live in the same state as her.<br />
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<b>Deschutes Brewery, where we went with Jackie to lunch one day</b></div>
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In February we had another guest-- one that wasn't obligated by familial relations to love us or visit us! I want to give a huge shout out to Jules, who went out of her way to make sure that she stopped up to see us and stay with us for a few days while she took some time to herself. We had a great time!<br />
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<b>Julian modeling one of Patrick's bottles of wine, a St. Julien :D</b></div>
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My last post in February was actually about <a href="http://brooknic.blogspot.com/2016/02/birthday-trip-2016.html">our trip to Disneyland</a> for my birthday, which is a significant event for me because once we got home I discovered some weird symptoms that were really messing with me-- I was absolutely exhausted, spending over 8-9 hours a night sleeping, taking 2-4 hour naps during the day, and being on the verge of falling asleep in between. I spent a couple of weeks that way before finally going to the doctor and finding out that my vitamin d levels were incredibly low. I actually just finished my last weekly vitamin d supplement and I'm feeling much better!<br />
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During that time (February, I believe), we went on an adventure and visited the <a href="https://www.tillamook.com/cheese-factory/index.html">Tillamook Cheese Factory</a>! That was loads of fun-- we got to sample lots of cheeses, eat delicious dairy products at the Tillamook restaurant, and watch cheese being packaged for aging and sale. It was in the most beautiful beach town right on the coast, and Patrick and I were both in love with the awful rainy weather (which is probably our favorite part of living in Oregon so far-- we absolutely love the rain and the gloom)!<br />
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<b>The best cheese curds either of us have ever had!</b></div>
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Finally, just this past weekend we were able to take some time to drive back down to San Francisco for the first time since moving out of state. We wanted to surprise our friend Shannon for her birthday at our favorite pub, Cameron's! We both had an amazing time catching up with our family and friends and are so thankful that we were able to coordinate the trip.<br />
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<b>The drive down was beautiful!</b></div>
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In fact, shortly after we booked our trip to SF, Patrick's company found out that we were going to be within driving distance (from SF) to one of our favorite clients to go to because of the location... which is Reno, NV! I love Reno! So the day after Shannon's birthday party, we drove from SF to Reno and stayed there from Sunday until Thursday. We explored the town some more (one of our favorite hobbies) and we even went to see a musical production of Footloose at the El Dorado casino & resort! We had a fantastic time, and of course the Footloose song was stuck in our heads for days!<br />
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<b>Have you ever had Raising Cane's?</b></div>
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<b>At the El Dorado</b></div>
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<b>Our favorite elephant friends dressed with bowling shirts for the bowling tournament going on while we were there!</b></div>
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<b>The theater ended up being packed full once the show started!</b></div>
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<b>The drive home was gorgeous!</b></div>
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<b>There was a lot of snow on the ground when we got into the mountains.</b></div>
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<b>We ran into a huge blizzard in the mountains, and this isn't even the worst of it! Even as an experienced snow driver, the twists and turns of the mountains were not fun with an inch of snow on the ground!</b></div>
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<b>Eventually the snow cleared up.</b></div>
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<b>And it started raining almost immediately when we hit the Oregon border (but first it snowed!)</b></div>
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Other things that we've done include: A trip to <a href="http://www.omsi.edu/">OMSI</a> for OMSI After Dark Superhero Night, a visit with my sister-in-law Renee in Portland, and a surprise visit from a friend of mine from back home who was in the PDX area for work! I also had SEVEN cavities filled... And that's what you get when you skip going to the dentist for five years. REGULAR CLEANINGS, PEOPLE!<br />
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Currently Patrick has been travelling almost non-stop for the past month and he's away again right now. We're also working on nailing down my next trip to Michigan! I'll let everyone know when that is as soon as we book the trip. In case anyone is wondering, it will just be me this time! Patrick definitely won't be able to make every trip back home with me because of his work schedule so you'll just have to deal with me for now ;)Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6300174370560750542.post-17343193901434223702016-02-16T14:39:00.001-08:002016-02-16T14:45:16.005-08:00Birthday Trip 2016!Hey guys! As some of you probably know, Patrick took me to Disneyland for my 24th birthday this year and both of us got some great photos that I wanted to share with you all, as well as a little about the weekend itself (even if this post is super belated)!<br />
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Normally in February southern California isn't particularly warm-- in fact, we thought that my birthday weekend would be a great time to go to Disneyland because the parks are usually dead during the cold, rainy winter. However, apparently we booked our trip for the hottest weekend of the winter. It was in the low to mid 80's the entire time we were there, which brought the people out and also made us both grumpy (to those of you who said we'd hate the cold, rainy Portland weather-- HA. WE LOVE IT. THE WARM IS TERRIBLE GIVE ME THE COLD AND WET), but we still really enjoyed the trip!<br />
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We flew in on Friday morning and went straight to the parks to wander around for a bit. By 1pm we were both tired, cranky, and really hot, so we headed to the hotel for an early check-in, a shower, and a nap. For dinner we went to my favorite restaurant in Anaheim (outside of Disneyland)-- Bubba Gump Shrimp Co.! We even got to see our favorite waiter, Gabe, who unexpectedly picked up a shift for someone else!<br />
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<b>We were super excited to see that the 60th Anniversary decorations are still up! I really hope that they keep the shiny castle shingles :)</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3I2BDF4rTj_jWQZRJCVoKCWp7iiZ5taoC0vaGLmXshOiWxwtqmtthmWi-YVJR7jeGs2eslYy6laG-uBpG6hlD86-irSR8TyRKU4Rlz7C1maBwEz6WWonnDfpbW7W-biZW7ept3hU5ndg7/s1600/20160205_122327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3I2BDF4rTj_jWQZRJCVoKCWp7iiZ5taoC0vaGLmXshOiWxwtqmtthmWi-YVJR7jeGs2eslYy6laG-uBpG6hlD86-irSR8TyRKU4Rlz7C1maBwEz6WWonnDfpbW7W-biZW7ept3hU5ndg7/s320/20160205_122327.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>It's A Small World</b></div>
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<b>Where we got engaged! I don't think I'll ever be able to eat there again because nothing can top that day</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8src5rnHxz46R91nQvJB1hcu8Of-YRl6jrrTwTeihqR4LFKSMulK9n36PzhdsUkYPe31JZYX_kw0FDPHRldNIcFcJntJpKbwCW4hSfZoFnURPjZKZYziQzAMNKwrN_MDiyrQGDTswx-9s/s1600/20160205_174017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8src5rnHxz46R91nQvJB1hcu8Of-YRl6jrrTwTeihqR4LFKSMulK9n36PzhdsUkYPe31JZYX_kw0FDPHRldNIcFcJntJpKbwCW4hSfZoFnURPjZKZYziQzAMNKwrN_MDiyrQGDTswx-9s/s320/20160205_174017.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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On Saturday we expected the park to be moderately busy because of the weather... But not nearly as busy as it was (apparently there was some sort of Annual Passholder Event). I was already struggling to wake up and no amount of caffeine in the world was helping, so a busy park probably would have given me a panic attack. We rode the shuttle bus into the park, saw how long the lines for bag check were, and decided to stay put on the bus so that it could drop us right back off at the parking lot. Instead, we ended up going to San Clemente to walk the beach trails a bit, then we stopped at the Mission Viejo mall to wander around, and finally we stopped at In-N-Out for lunch before heading back to the hotel so that I could nap and try to get my energy level up. Saturday was a bit of a bust, since I woke up with a strange fever and felt miserable for hours (which may have been related to my inability to "wake up"), but we did go out to a nice dinner at McCormick & Schmick's after I was feeling better!<br />
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<b>Our view from North Beach in San Clemente</b></div>
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<b>It was gorgeous! We spent most of the time watching the surfers.</b></div>
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<b>Our delicious lunch. I've been craving In-N-Out for months and insisted on it when we went down for this trip.</b></div>
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<b>Animal style everything.</b></div>
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<b>Before dinner</b></div>
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On Sunday we got a lazy start to the day. I woke up to two birthday cards from Patrick and a card from our cats, then we got ready and spent most of the day in the parks! We ended up leaving midday to go back to the hotel so that we could check in for our flights and get ready for dinner because jeans and a t shirt won't cut it for Carthay Circle! We had a fabulous dinner at Carthay out on the second floor patio, which we had mostly to ourselves during our entire meal! Afterwards we wandered around a bit and found our darling friends Lena and Victoria who we haven't seen since we moved.<br />
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I have to say that the best part about the trip for me is how much I missed Oregon. Did you read that correctly? You sure did. Being there reinforced how much I love Oregon and how much I truly disliked living in California. I know that it seems to be a dream of a lot of people to move there but it was definitely not a good fit for me. I like nice people and decent drivers and decently priced gas (or, well, decently priced everything) and weather that changes-- that is not what you get in California! Oregon, I love you!<br />
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<b>I can't wear the regular Mickey head earrings because they're made of metal that I'm allergic to so I finally gave in got a pair of the more expensive ones for my birthday.</b></div>
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<b>We happened to be in DCA at just the right time so we got to watch the Pixar Parade!</b></div>
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<b>Patrick and I went on a wild goose chase to find this damn BB-8 sipper but I have to admit, it is pretty cute.</b></div>
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<b>Our view from our table at Carthay!</b></div>
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<b>My button, dress, and nails all glowed in the black light on the Monster's Inc. ride! </b></div>
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<b>Lena and Victoria! We were so excited to see them!</b></div>
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<b>Before the night ended we waited to watch World of Color but it was cancelled due to high winds, so instead we ran to The Little Mermaid ride and ended the night on that note :)</b></div>
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I think that the most exciting thing about being 24 is that for the last year (being 23), I was the same age as my Babcia (great-grandmother), whose birthday is on leap year so she has only had 23 "real" birthdays. For the next 20 days I will be <i>older</i> than her, then we will be the same age again for just under a year because she has another "real" birthday this year, and then I will be older than her for the rest of my life! It's amusing to me, at least!<br />
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I have to say that overall I had an incredible birthday, spending it with the man I love and taking full advantage of "birthday rules". Thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday!<br />
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<br />Brookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02564073525183272293noreply@blogger.com0