24 hours from now I will be sitting in the theater watching Harry Potter. Midnight premiere.
YES!
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Raindrops on Roses
I'm generally a pretty happy person. I have my ups and my downs of course, but I usually try to smile. (Okay, not entirely true. Ask my family.) Last week, however, I hit a low that made being in the trough in a kayak in ten foot seas seem tolerable.
Being back at the top of the swell again, I've compiled a list of things that make me happy (in no particular order).
1. My bike and my work
Yes, this is the time than Charlie saran wrapped my (sister's) bike to the post at Kingfisher. If you're having a bad day, you can be glad that at least your coworkers don't do that to you, or that maybe you have a car, or maybe that you do have to bike or walk and are in better shape because of it. See that, folks? We're finding the silver lining.
Lucky for me, serving at the lodge really does put me in a better mood.
2. At least my bad hair day is better than Alexa's.
This is Alexa, Brittany's kitty. She has (had) the world's worst matts and Mom recently took the clippers to them. Poor thing.
3. My family.
With them around, any grey day can be an adventure.
Here are some more ideas for cheering yourself up:
-Go on a hike. Watch out for bears.
-Get certified in something. It takes just $10 to get a State of Alaska Food Handler's Card!
-Dye a strip of your hair purple.
-Read a good book.
-Read a better book.
-Read a best book! Haha...gotta love the Scriptures.
-Cut up a t-shirt into something exciting.
-Sew beads onto your normal clothes so they're a little funky.
-Try making syrup over the stove. It's really pretty....
I've obviously lost it. I'm happy, but pretty sleep deprived, so enough of these musings.
Mucho love-o.
E
Being back at the top of the swell again, I've compiled a list of things that make me happy (in no particular order).
1. My bike and my work
Yes, this is the time than Charlie saran wrapped my (sister's) bike to the post at Kingfisher. If you're having a bad day, you can be glad that at least your coworkers don't do that to you, or that maybe you have a car, or maybe that you do have to bike or walk and are in better shape because of it. See that, folks? We're finding the silver lining.
Lucky for me, serving at the lodge really does put me in a better mood.
2. At least my bad hair day is better than Alexa's.
This is Alexa, Brittany's kitty. She has (had) the world's worst matts and Mom recently took the clippers to them. Poor thing.
3. My family.
With them around, any grey day can be an adventure.
Here are some more ideas for cheering yourself up:
-Go on a hike. Watch out for bears.
-Get certified in something. It takes just $10 to get a State of Alaska Food Handler's Card!
-Dye a strip of your hair purple.
-Read a good book.
-Read a better book.
-Read a best book! Haha...gotta love the Scriptures.
-Cut up a t-shirt into something exciting.
-Sew beads onto your normal clothes so they're a little funky.
-Try making syrup over the stove. It's really pretty....
I've obviously lost it. I'm happy, but pretty sleep deprived, so enough of these musings.
Mucho love-o.
E
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Stolen Pictures
Every since discovering the joy of posting pictures (what, two weeks ago?) I've had trouble not copy-and-pasting half of the images on the web onto my blog. I'm still feeling slightly guilty for not giving proper credit for the last pictures I stole. Here's a quick fix:
Locks of Love logo--Locks of Love. Duh.
Keira Knightley--I dunno. Google Keira Knightley bob and you'll probably find it.
That picture of me--my cousin Jamie. Thank you, Jamie, for not yelling at me because of
the stolen picture!
I'll tell you, Jaime takes great photos. Somedays when Facebook has sucked me in yet again, I look through her pictures. When she's behind the camera, the pictures are great. When she's in front of the camera, the subject matter is always beautiful. It makes it fun to FB-stalk her.
Occasionally my random picture need is greater than just Facebook, however. That's when I get crazy with Google images. For fear of being accused of stealing pictures, I'm not posting my favorites. Darn you, conscience.
Instead, this is what I searched today:
"bicycle wedding"
And the results are AWESOME! Whether is the groom in biker shorts and the bride in a white poofy mini dress, or a scenic countryside couple holding hands while biking, I love the images. Thank you, Google.
To finish up, I can't resist.
This is Emily Browning. I got this picture from http://cdn.blogs.sheknows.com/celebsalon.sheknows.com/2011/03/emily-browning-hair1.jpg. That's as close to a Works Cited as I'm going to get.
And I love her hair. Probably too short for my criteria, but I LOVE it.
I still haven't cut the blasted stuff (my hair, that is.) Instead, I dyed a teeny streak purple. It's barely visible and will wash out in the next couple weeks, but cooled my short-hair craving for awhile.
What to do?
Locks of Love logo--Locks of Love. Duh.
Keira Knightley--I dunno. Google Keira Knightley bob and you'll probably find it.
That picture of me--my cousin Jamie. Thank you, Jamie, for not yelling at me because of
the stolen picture!
I'll tell you, Jaime takes great photos. Somedays when Facebook has sucked me in yet again, I look through her pictures. When she's behind the camera, the pictures are great. When she's in front of the camera, the subject matter is always beautiful. It makes it fun to FB-stalk her.
Occasionally my random picture need is greater than just Facebook, however. That's when I get crazy with Google images. For fear of being accused of stealing pictures, I'm not posting my favorites. Darn you, conscience.
Instead, this is what I searched today:
"bicycle wedding"
And the results are AWESOME! Whether is the groom in biker shorts and the bride in a white poofy mini dress, or a scenic countryside couple holding hands while biking, I love the images. Thank you, Google.
To finish up, I can't resist.
This is Emily Browning. I got this picture from http://cdn.blogs.sheknows.com/celebsalon.sheknows.com/2011/03/emily-browning-hair1.jpg. That's as close to a Works Cited as I'm going to get.
And I love her hair. Probably too short for my criteria, but I LOVE it.
I still haven't cut the blasted stuff (my hair, that is.) Instead, I dyed a teeny streak purple. It's barely visible and will wash out in the next couple weeks, but cooled my short-hair craving for awhile.
What to do?
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Telling Secrets
I'm good at keeping secrets, unless they're my own. There are some things that I'd really like to keep quiet until I decide what I'm going to do about them, but I can't!
Here's a spoiler to my secrets.
Ten inches would help build a wig for a child without hair and give me the change that I'm so desperately craving.
I have long, shiny, healthy hair. I might be bragging a little bit, but it's a fact pertinent my story. You see, it is lovely, and I'm a little sick of it.
Or maybe I just need change. You hear about girls who have a bad break up and snip go the scissors or they break out the dye bottles. I don't want to dye this mane of mine anymore, so maybe it's time for a change.
It's not a break up that I'm trying to cut out, I think. It's just the crazy in my life. I'm crazy busy (I worked eleven and a half hours yesterday)crazy confused (school. duh.) and just a little crazy. And sometimes change is just a good thing, no?
And a new look would just be fun, I think. I've been rocking long and straight for AGES.
This is one idea. Maybe with some bangs, or as they say in England, "fringe."
Some things to consider:
*I am as low maintenance as they come. I don't curl, or straighten, or blow dry, or add ANY product. This morning I didn't even brush my hair. It's straight enough that I can comb it with my fingers and braid it and no one's the wiser. (Well, unless my boss noticed. She should comment if she did.) ;)
* I have to be able to get it into a single French braid by mid August. My folk dance dreams are loosely tied into my braid. Really. It's that important.
*I'm poor. I'll splurge for a good cut, but not to get it re-cut and re-cut and re-cut and re-cut so I need something that grow out decently.
What do I do?
And for one last piece of my mind:
I look cute with short hair. Relatively.
Here's a spoiler to my secrets.
Ten inches would help build a wig for a child without hair and give me the change that I'm so desperately craving.
I have long, shiny, healthy hair. I might be bragging a little bit, but it's a fact pertinent my story. You see, it is lovely, and I'm a little sick of it.
Or maybe I just need change. You hear about girls who have a bad break up and snip go the scissors or they break out the dye bottles. I don't want to dye this mane of mine anymore, so maybe it's time for a change.
It's not a break up that I'm trying to cut out, I think. It's just the crazy in my life. I'm crazy busy (I worked eleven and a half hours yesterday)crazy confused (school. duh.) and just a little crazy. And sometimes change is just a good thing, no?
And a new look would just be fun, I think. I've been rocking long and straight for AGES.
This is one idea. Maybe with some bangs, or as they say in England, "fringe."
Some things to consider:
*I am as low maintenance as they come. I don't curl, or straighten, or blow dry, or add ANY product. This morning I didn't even brush my hair. It's straight enough that I can comb it with my fingers and braid it and no one's the wiser. (Well, unless my boss noticed. She should comment if she did.) ;)
* I have to be able to get it into a single French braid by mid August. My folk dance dreams are loosely tied into my braid. Really. It's that important.
*I'm poor. I'll splurge for a good cut, but not to get it re-cut and re-cut and re-cut and re-cut so I need something that grow out decently.
What do I do?
And for one last piece of my mind:
I look cute with short hair. Relatively.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Rooooooaaaaadtrip!
Since I've discovered I can now post pictures, I'm going to put some up for my few, but loyal readers. ;)
I'm not sure why they went up in an order opposite of what I wanted.
The one of Russell and I was taken in a tree, thus it is cool.
The one with three people has Russell's little sister Jenny in it.
The view and road was just driving in Montana where the sky and land stretched forever in all directions.
It was a lovely trip, but it's strange putting pictures up and writing about what you can't see, so that's it for now.
I'm not sure why they went up in an order opposite of what I wanted.
The one of Russell and I was taken in a tree, thus it is cool.
The one with three people has Russell's little sister Jenny in it.
The view and road was just driving in Montana where the sky and land stretched forever in all directions.
It was a lovely trip, but it's strange putting pictures up and writing about what you can't see, so that's it for now.
This is it
This is it. Here I go. I'm finally going to stop procrastinating putting a picture on this blog by procrastinating my run. I'm going to find a picture.
Here goes:
Woah! It seems to have worked! Yay!!
So why the seal?
I decided it'd be a leeeeetle too self-centered to post a picture of me first. This beautiful seal posed for Russell and I as we stood on the ferry dock in Prince Rupert, Canada, hours before we departed for Alaska after our roadtrip. Russ and I were looking out over the boats when the seal started lazing at the surface. I got a couple of good shots, then he swam back down.
Thank you, Mr. Seal. And welcome to my blog.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Dodging Bricks
Do you ever feel like your life is barreling towards something and you're about to hit it head on and you still don't know what it is?
Yeah, that's me.
Today was the annual dance recital, but for the first time since fourth grade, not counting Bolivia, I wasn't in it. I did my best to be included but not annoying. I showed up at the same time as the performers and volunteered my expert bun-making services. I wielded hairspray like the pro that I am. I found loose strings to tuck in and runs in tights to stop with the ever-so-magical clear nail polish. And when I was done with all that I sat down in the audience and wondered what the heck I should do with my life.
Class after class, these beautiful, strong girls and boys sparkled and sweated and grinned onstage. Some looked scared, and more than one looked a little uncomfortable in their body/shoes/hair piece. Dance isn't always a beautiful experience for dancers. There were a couple of years that I cursed my body every time I had to get into a leotard. On the whole, however, it does wonders for them. It might be that when the lights mix with applause and strength, superheros are born. I have never felt so beautiful as I do on stage. Never so special. Never so wonderful. And there were a couple of people tonight that felt the same; I could tell.
I have a mental image of bricks flying at my head with words spray painted onto them: major, minor, school, degrees, money. And then a million question marked bricks. To avoid being knocked out/potentially killed, I jump side to side. I duck and weave and swerve. Maybe it's a dance. Maybe it's all dancing and that's what I should do.
The recital was beautiful. The dances were great. Could I create that experience for others? Should I go in for teaching? I'm not deciding yet.
Yeah, that's me.
Today was the annual dance recital, but for the first time since fourth grade, not counting Bolivia, I wasn't in it. I did my best to be included but not annoying. I showed up at the same time as the performers and volunteered my expert bun-making services. I wielded hairspray like the pro that I am. I found loose strings to tuck in and runs in tights to stop with the ever-so-magical clear nail polish. And when I was done with all that I sat down in the audience and wondered what the heck I should do with my life.
Class after class, these beautiful, strong girls and boys sparkled and sweated and grinned onstage. Some looked scared, and more than one looked a little uncomfortable in their body/shoes/hair piece. Dance isn't always a beautiful experience for dancers. There were a couple of years that I cursed my body every time I had to get into a leotard. On the whole, however, it does wonders for them. It might be that when the lights mix with applause and strength, superheros are born. I have never felt so beautiful as I do on stage. Never so special. Never so wonderful. And there were a couple of people tonight that felt the same; I could tell.
I have a mental image of bricks flying at my head with words spray painted onto them: major, minor, school, degrees, money. And then a million question marked bricks. To avoid being knocked out/potentially killed, I jump side to side. I duck and weave and swerve. Maybe it's a dance. Maybe it's all dancing and that's what I should do.
The recital was beautiful. The dances were great. Could I create that experience for others? Should I go in for teaching? I'm not deciding yet.
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