tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29994338431097807352024-03-14T11:49:12.419-07:00Abnormalee MeI have been called many things in my life, but normal wasn't one of them.Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-86773983981561984432013-10-18T14:27:00.002-07:002013-10-18T14:36:37.511-07:00Rain ManI learned something today that blew my mind: My parents are probably the smartest people I've ever met.<br />
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Now lets just hold on there mother. I know you're about 2.5 seconds away from hitting the send button on that text addressed to me. You know the text I'm talking about, the one that goes something along the lines of: I now have this confession in writing to hang above your head for the rest of my life. And I shall use it as I see fit.<br />
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Which you most certainly do have now. You should think about framing it because it's never going to occur again. Actually, <i>I</i> should think about framing it and giving it to <i>you</i>... Christmas present solved.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRtpobqFQNufMY5DwrACbiplDYEQPvFIt9CuLO2JTUMdxQtg3EX8zK0aWCycpkEiqni02EvEN7wHsElbTLRFaKTanrViHrM3rAJOa9rA2aOJLKDlWgs9xaqsD0nx7QZaN20BUpmuO3Zss/s1600/305611_10150654319846356_1078591868_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRtpobqFQNufMY5DwrACbiplDYEQPvFIt9CuLO2JTUMdxQtg3EX8zK0aWCycpkEiqni02EvEN7wHsElbTLRFaKTanrViHrM3rAJOa9rA2aOJLKDlWgs9xaqsD0nx7QZaN20BUpmuO3Zss/s320/305611_10150654319846356_1078591868_n.jpg" width="240" /></a>Anyway, back to the previous claim I made. Sorry to burst your bubble mama but this is more in particular about Dad today (though you're pretty freaking awesome too).<br />
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In case you were wondering, I probably have the best Dad ever and no I'm not over exaggerating here. He's smart, funny, battled cancer <i>twice </i>and <span style="font-size: large;">won</span> <i>and </i>he rocks a sweet stache. He's the one who taught me how to shoot a gun, clean a Dove after hunting and appreciate Pink Floyd. He taught me that real gentleman open doors for women and help out around the house equally and can cook a meal like nobody's business. He taught me how to change a flat tire... not once... not twice... but three times. None of which actually stuck and I should probably get him to show me again next time I'm home. He taught me a whole bunch of things but what I didn't know is that he was teaching me even when he wasn't <i>actively</i> teaching me.<br />
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Which is why this post exists.<br />
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I grew up in a household where we watched the Indy and Daytona 500 but no other racing. We watched golf because, well, I actually don't know why we watched golf but we did it. But most importantly we watched the weather. And now many years later and thousands of miles away from my parents I find myself doing those exact same things and not even knowing why. But I know I can't help it... and I'm not going to stop.<br />
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But the key to this statement is we didn't just watch the weather... we actively <i>tracked </i>the weather. I remember growing up with my father recording the temperature every day in a notebook and then when computers came in to existence I remember my dad spending countless hours imputing those temperatures in to a handy excel spreadsheet. You can't even imagine how excited he was to be able to analyze the ridiculous amount of weather data he had collected. Give me a minute and I could probably tell you the temperature outside of our house 8 years ago on April 25. I can actually tell you if that was the perfect date. If it was indeed not too hot and not too cold and all you really needed was a light jacket. Though, I doubt this is the case in April in southern New Mexico. And if you didn't get the Miss Congeniality reference... I feel for you.<br />
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I think the best thing we ever got him as a present (translation: my mom got him as a present and my sister and I signed our names on the card) was a weather-thing-a-ma-jig. Yes, that's its technical name and it was awesome (<i>is</i> awesome because he still uses it). It stood in our backyard and actively tracked the wind, the <strike>rain</strike> the lack of rain, the temperature, the humidity... you name it, it did it. And within the 10 minutes of getting home from work, my dad <i>had</i> to check the updates on it.<br />
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So how does this translate to me at all? Well, I didn't think it ever did. I just had a Dad who was a little strange and I thought should have been a meteorologist instead of an X-Ray technologist. But it didn't ever really affect me. Except I was <i>always</i> prepared for any weather. This part was actually my mother's doing. Though my father tracked the weather, my mother implemented the clothing to be worn in it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyXJiAxEEHp4uyZBYMdQNaJMu-B6LUtvSJXf4uabLr_NajEijCpw0xFoTYCbKX3uW8dS6va_f-mNl72JZBTAhxpKctinVpdiX01i2aMgI93mfGHVVBb_iO9TlVnahY4utbHbffF4sUA0/s1600/photo-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyXJiAxEEHp4uyZBYMdQNaJMu-B6LUtvSJXf4uabLr_NajEijCpw0xFoTYCbKX3uW8dS6va_f-mNl72JZBTAhxpKctinVpdiX01i2aMgI93mfGHVVBb_iO9TlVnahY4utbHbffF4sUA0/s320/photo-1.jpg" width="213" /></a>And then it hit me yesterday, right smack dab in the middle of a full blown rain storm. I was sitting at my desk starring out the window at the ugliness that is rain and realized I'd forgotten my rain jacket <i>and</i> my umbrella. Rookie mistake. It wasn't because I didn't know the rain was coming. Trust me, if there's rain about to hit... I know about it. Why you ask? Well, when my alarm blares out at 5:30 in the morning, after promptly hitting snooze 4 times, I check the weather. Not on my one app on my iPhone but on my FOUR weather apps. And I compare their results. And figure how to dress accordingly for my day.<br />
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Which is exactly why I set out my rain coat and umbrella. It's my forgetfulness and flightiness that led me to not actually bringing them with me (which I probably also inherited from the parental units). But initially I was prepared.<br />
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As I was sitting starring out at the ugliness and realizing my lack of rain gear, all I could think of was how disappointed in me father would have been (though he's so awesome... and therefore I'm so awesome... I <i>never actually </i>disappoint him). None the less, I needed to rectify the situation.<br />
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Which is how I pulled up the weather channel on my computer. You know, the best website ever. More highly visited on my computer over Twitter, blogger, the news, and just about everything else besides Facebook and Gmail. Yeah that website. It's pretty much my favorite thing.<br />
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I pulled it up and went straight to the radar page and clicked future forecast. Which is probably the coolest thing ever. It predicts the rain movement for the next 3 hrs in to the future. It is a lifesaver. I zoomed in on my walk home and realized I had exactly 30 minutes between 4:15 and 4:45 where there was a break in the weather, otherwise I was going to get trapped, and therefore soaked, in the torrential down pour.<br />
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I scooted out of lab and down the street when 2 rain drops hit my forehead. People were shuffling around the streets with their rain coats and oversized umbrellas. I wasn't worried though. I looked at the forecast and I knew I still had 20-25 minutes before the flood was going to hit.<br />
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As I stepped in the front door of my apartment, I looked out the window and it began. The rain was hard and swift and it looked rather cold to me. But I wouldn't really know, because there I was sitting, dry, in the living room munching on my candy corn pumpkin (which by the way are WAY better than regular candy corn).<br />
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Thinking to myself: take that rain, you obviously haven't met my father.<br />
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Side note... after I posted this the first time, my mother promptly told me she was indeed going to hang this over my head and then she said I made her cry. I don't know what I would do without my parents.Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-88491237292878687262013-10-03T07:42:00.003-07:002013-10-03T07:42:57.737-07:00CrashingSo I know what you're thinking, after the last post, I must be a bike riding pro by now. Well, if that's what you're thinking... you'd definitely be wrong.<br />
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I started out ok. Going a couple of blocks at a time before I would slightly lose control. The trick, I found, was to stay away from moving vehicles and people and most likely I would be ok. I mean sure, my calves were highly bruised from the peddles and not breaking correctly with the back peddle break. But bruises no longer phase me. With kickboxing, running, jiu jitsu, and all around clumsiness I find I often have at least 3 or 4 relatively large bruises. I think I've been desensitized to them at this point. The dark purple color appears, along with swelling, but I never really seem to feel the pain of them anymore. They're kind of like battle wounds. I'm pretty proud when I get a new bruise. It means I must have been working hard and failed and then kept on going.<br />
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Anyway, I found myself going out biking a couple times and just doing what I could. Hills. hills are tricky. Hills that I run everyday are like 80 times worse on a bike. It takes a ton of effort to push myself and a very heavy retro bike up a hill and I often have trouble with, balancing, steering, and effort all at once. And that's just going <i>up</i> the hill. Coming <i>down</i> the hill is MUCH more scary as my speed increases exponentially along with my level of fear. I'm always afraid I won't be able to stop and will come crashing in to something that I would have rather not crashed in to, because really who likes to crash in to anything.<br />
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Well, one beautiful September day with the weather in the high 60s and the sun shining brightly, I decided it was the perfect time for a bike a ride. I was off of work early and I still had about an hour before I had to head out to my kickboxing class so I hopped on my bike. And I was indeed cruisin!<br />
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I'm lucky to live in a beautiful, residential area that has nice side streets where traffic isn't really a thing. The streets are mainly used by the residents who live on them as they come and go from their households. It is common to not see a car for an hour or so. So, I took off on these back residential streets, my helmet secure to my head and my cardigan flapping in the breeze. It was glorious.<br />
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I went for over a mile... maybe even two... without stopping. I was feeling more secure in my turns and hill work but I was by no means a pro. Bike riding was something where I needed all my focus. At one point, my sunglasses were slipping down my nose and as I was riding I picked up my left hand to correct them. Big mistake. My bike went swerving and sliding all across the rode. Had there have been traffic, I definitely would have been road kill. To my surprise, I managed to stay afloat and keep on peddling. At that point, I was pretty sure I could tackle anything. The gravel roads were no problem. I could steer around pot holes. I was officially a bike rider. No one ever said I was a graceful bike rider but I was indeed staying up. And I was happy.<br />
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I must have looked like a little school girl as I flew through the neighborhood with my bike, my bell, and my basket, smiling like there was nothing that could stop me. Because that is what I thought... at this moment, <i>nothing</i> can stop me.<br />
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That was until I ran headfirst in to the back of a parked car. Let me tell you... that <b>definitely</b> stopped me. I'm not even sure how it happened. I was going down a street I had looped 3 times already. But on this 4th loop, something happened. What? I'm not sure. But next thing I know this park car was attacking me!! And my front wheel hit the car with quite a bit of force and I jerked forward and to the side. I fell hitting my head (good thing I'm never too cool for a helmet), falling to the side and my bike landing with breathe steeling force on top of me.<br />
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I whirled around like a caged monkey nearly throwing my bike off of me, scraping my side on the pavement, and looking around frantically to see if anyone had witnessed this 23 year old girl flying head first in to a parked car. To my surprise, and satisfaction, I did not see a single soul watching the ridiculous scene that just unfolded.<br />
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At this point the pain set in. I felt like I had been hit by a car... which technically I had. And my scrapes were slightly bleeding. Sad and defeated, I picked up my bike and went to inspect the car. After a good 10 minute inspection, I found no damage, thankfully, due to the fact I ran in to the bumper and not the side of the car. Whoever invented the bumper must have been thinking about accidents like this, surely. I thank them for this generous service to man kind.<br />
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So with slouched shoulders I turned to start the mile trek back to my house, because you're delusional if you think I was getting back on my bike that day.<br />
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And at that exact moment a little girl, no older than six or seven, on a bike came flying by me, riding with both arms out and open to the wind relying on her balance and momentum to keep her up and moving forward. As she approached me she turned her head, waved, and smiled as if there were no cares in the world<br />
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... and I'm pretty sure at that moment in time, I wanted to push that little girl and her smile right off that bike.<br />
<br />Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-27663121542798521452013-09-19T10:02:00.000-07:002013-09-19T10:02:36.101-07:00Cruisin...They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. I beg to differ. You most definitely <i>can</i> teach an old dog new tricks... but you just probably shouldn't.<br />
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In this case, the new trick is riding a bike. And the old dog... well, that's me. Flattering, I know. Somehow I managed to make it <i>23</i> long years without learning how to ride a bike. I remember being young and carefree and riding my tricycle down the street with my sister and friends. And somehow that did not transition to riding a bicycle.<br />
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The real story of why I didn't learn how to ride a bike, I'm not actually sure. I have a very vivid story in my mind of what happened and why I didn't transition from 3 wheels to the infamous 2 wheeled version that <i>everyone </i>else in the world has learned but me. However, I've been informed by my mother that my version is not really what happened. Though, she can't quite recall the <i>true</i> story either. I think it's because my sister is her favorite and my story only <i>slightly</i> paints my sister in a bad light. Sometimes my sister gets a bad rep in the memory of my childhood (like the time she broke my finger during high school softball tryouts, leaving me to never play softball again). It's only because I was a devil of a child and instead of blaming myself for tragic life events, my mind has painted stories that may or may not be true of historical events in my life. It's a survival/coping mechanism I'm told. In all truthfulness, my sister is probably one of the best people I know. And I'm, well, not one of the best people I know. So I can see how the facts may have been messed up in 23 years. But nobody has the real story so we'll go with mine.<br />
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It started like this... the epic day I was going to learn how to ride a bike. I was a wee little thing with no fears or cares and that was the day my training wheels were coming off. I felt <i>good</i>. Everything was going to be great and I was going to be riding my big girl bike all around the neighborhood showing off.<br />
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I remember my dad behind me holding the bike steady and pushing me down a slight incline to get me started. It's all about momentum he told me. Once you start going, the bike holds you up, even for somebody who has as little balance as me (which hasn't changed in the passing years). And then there are some gaps (I think from the concussion I probably received). But I remember my sister being there behind me <strike>excited to help her little sister learn to ride</strike> plotting her master plan against me, evilly. She was pushing me along keeping me upright. As I gained momentum she <strike>let go</strike> <i>pushed</i> me hard down the <strike>small</strike> GIGANTIC hill and I flew. Not knowing really how to break, I crashed and <strike>probably just fell over</strike> went flying through the air, skidding across the gravel, and hitting my head vigorously on the pavement. And that is the <i>exact</i> moment I decided I was never going to get on that metal death trap again, and I didn't until about two months ago.<br />
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There were moments in my life where I was like, hey, you should probably know how to ride a bike. But it wasn't necessary. Not in a city like Las Cruces which is a spread out hot desert. If you're going to have a bicycle as your main/only mode of transportation around the city, you're probably going to die. And besides, who wants to be the 13 year old out in the neighborhood with her Dad pushing her and her bicycle down the street teaching her to ride. Please. I had already skipped a grade (aka nerd central), was a chubby little kid, <i>and</i> was in the marching band. Add that little bike scene and there's no telling the kind of trauma I would have experienced. Kids are cruel.<br />
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So really, it wasn't a big deal I didn't know how to ride a bike. Until I got to the very green (<i>hippie) </i>city of Ann Arbor where <i>everybody</i> rides bikes... everywhere. It's like what they <i>do.</i> That's when I told myself, you know what, <i>woman</i> up. If a 6 year old can ride a bike, you damn well can too.<br />
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That's when I went in search of the perfect bike. I had conditions of course. If I was going to ride a bike, it had to be cute. No road bikes. A simple bike. And preferably a basket attached. Everyone around me seemed to be excited for my bike riding experience and set off finding me a bike. I was sent several emails containing craigs list bikes that fit my bill... and that's when this beauty appeared. And I <i>had </i>to have it.<br />
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So I drove an hour away... and shoved it in the back of my tiny versa. And drove an hour back to Ann Arbor.<br />
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And then I waited for months... until <i>finally</i> three of my guy friends took me to the park behind our house. And attempted to teach me to ride. It was tragic, and quite frankly a little pathetic. And there are videos... of which I am <i>never</i> going to show anybody. Ever. Turns out I still have no balance and I could barely keep the bike going for more than 30 seconds. After I almost ran straight into the guys and a picnic table (steering is hard work) I decided to call it a day and confirmed I'd go out later and try it. My matter of fact roommate told me he guessed my bike would end up in the basement never to be seen by me again and I would go along my jolly way of not knowing how to ride a bike. He was probably right actually... but because he said that, I had the instant need to prove him wrong.<br />
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A couple of weeks later, I took my bike out (now equipped with a cute pink bell... because duh, everyone needs a bell). I went to a secluded road behind our apartment that doesn't get a lot of foot or vehicle traffic and has a slight incline to it. And I tried to teach myself to learn how to ride a bike. For two straight hours I tried. And the people that did pass by looked at me like, who is this grown woman who doesn't know how to ride a bike? Is that even possible for somebody to not know how to ride a bike. And I was starting to get annoyed, and bruised up from the wheels hitting my legs when I would try to break because I still couldn't quite figure out the back peddling breaks. I was sweaty and the people kept giving me strange looks and I kind of thought I was going to cry. And that's when I finally <i>cracked.</i> A big black truck filled with four 20 something year old guys, turned the corner on to this dirt road. They <i>very </i>slowly started to approach me, and then slow down even more, and blatantly, open mouth stared at me and <i>pointed and laughed</i>... yeah I full on cracked.<br />
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So I starred straight at them. Jumped on my bike and furiously started ringing my bell like a straight up <i><b>crazy</b></i> person. It scared them. They rolled up their window. That'll teach them, I thought. Will Smith taught me how to fight bullies: full scale psychological warfare. Act crazy enough and everyone will leave you alone.<br />
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And as I was acting a crazy fool, it occurred to me that I was riding my bike... I was flying past the truck laughing like a maniac because I did it. After 23 years, I learned to ride a bike.<br />
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But man what I would have given to have somebody video tape the way those boys jumped as I started ringing my pink little bell, roll up the window, and then hit the gas peddle to get as far away from the crazy girl riding her bike.<br />
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Back Up! Back Up! Mind your business that's all. Just mind your business.Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-45475457872383478112013-09-11T19:16:00.001-07:002013-09-11T19:33:52.490-07:00The Undergrads.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4t9Kb48lxK1WsV-nSETbI5utpEGhjPXKy70U1yVBUB3s2Cml5_i5jFUQSf_L6Abgo_Yc662l3aj2yD64tOIJrBkBt0it8UQEEElez6Iv3q59i55HrqzPRbYVlMYYiKXtHb4OsrwCw-Eo/s1600/tumblr_inline_mqx52qheXR1qz4rgp.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4t9Kb48lxK1WsV-nSETbI5utpEGhjPXKy70U1yVBUB3s2Cml5_i5jFUQSf_L6Abgo_Yc662l3aj2yD64tOIJrBkBt0it8UQEEElez6Iv3q59i55HrqzPRbYVlMYYiKXtHb4OsrwCw-Eo/s320/tumblr_inline_mqx52qheXR1qz4rgp.gif" width="320" /></a>This first week and a half of the semester has been a whirlwind of crazy and getting used to new schedules. There are so many <i>children</i> everywhere. And by children, I mean undergraduates. The bane of my existence as a grad student. They take over all of my local watering holes (aka bars... even though half of them are <i>technically</i> not even 21 but ID's don't lie), restaurants, parking, busses... they're all flooding with undergrads. Even my peaceful 6AM running time has been kidnapped. I used to see not a single soul out and yesterday I saw 4. What is that? Aren't you sleeping undergrads? Do you not have class till noon? I think you're doing college wrong.<br />
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The little town of Ann Arbor literally doubles when school is back in session and since I am officially old, I naturally hate all things that I wish I was: young, care free, and with soooo much free time.<br />
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A good chunk of the country (75% actually) went back to school <i>weeks</i> ago but Michigan is behind in the times and doesn't go to school until after labor day. It is apparently a law that started because child labor was invaluable. I mean, why hire farm hands to harvest your land when you can get your 10 children to do it. After all, that is why you had 10 children, right?<br />
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What I can tell you is that times are changing... though at a much slower progression than I would have originally thought and starting this late is stupid. The later you start, the later you get out. I miss being done the first week of December and not thinking about anything educational for a month (NMSU was so generous in their breaks). Instead, school roughly gets out the week right before Christmas and goes back the week after New Years... slashing my break time drastically in half. Not to mention our complete lack of Thanksgiving break which is essentially just Thanksgiving day instead of the whole week.<br />
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Not that this actually matters much for me anymore because science/grad school hates breaks, and holidays, and anything that actually makes one happy. This is a scientifically proven fact.<br />
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This also doesn't matter much because I'm not actually taking any classes. Unless you can count a weekly seminar in which I listen to people talk about their research.<br />
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Anyway, even though I'm not actually <i>taking </i>a class, I am <i>teaching</i> one. I know what you're thinking: is this girl qualified to teach a group of 360 undergraduate students? No probably not. Except, I actually think I might be good at it. I didn't think it was possible.<br />
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I'm historically bad at a lot of things and my aversion to public speaking made me question why I was doing this. And then I remembered I am <i>required</i> to teach. So I sucked it up and went to the absolute sorriest excuse of a GSI orientation in which I wasted 2 work days and learned the exact opposite of anything useful.<br />
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And then the real class time started. And I have to say, I really like it. I'm teaching Genetics which is one of my favorite subjects to begin with. I have 3 discussions and about 75 students total. Because this is more of group talking and discussion based class than a lecturing style, I really got in to the swing of it. All I had to do was remember<br />
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1) I actually <i>am</i> smarter than them.</div>
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2) 2 years ago wasn't that long... I can relate, right? </div>
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So besides the one kid who answered his phone in the middle of the professor lecturing... while he was sitting directly behind me... and then had a <i>full blown</i> conversation and then I nearly decapitated him in the middle of class. Yeah, besides that it's been going well. Granted, I've only taught one class so it could all fall apart by Friday judging by how things in my life go.<br />
<br />
Side note, I got my very own pre-med undergraduate to mentor in lab which I thought was kind of cool, that my PI trusted me enough. And then after the fact I found out everyone else in lab said they didn't want one or will be "graduating" (supposedly) in the next few months. Therefore I was the last and only option. You know me, always trying to impress.Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-3661102088069614932013-09-04T08:11:00.000-07:002013-09-04T08:34:25.258-07:00The Grad School StruggleWell, I'm back. But this time I think it's for real. No really, I've had some time to mull it over. So, after nearly 10 months off from the blogging game I'll start this as a kind of re-introduction post to me. For those of you who don't know, I'm a 23 year old, native New Mexican, struggling pre-PhD candidate at the University of Michigan.<br />
<br />
It's currently just after midnight (nearly two hours after my normal bedtime) and I've been inspired by my lovely friend Stacy to start up this blog again. I've been told many times by various friends how much they missed my shenanigans and awkward life moments as I document them on this blog.<br />
<br />
I can come up with every reason in the book as to why I stopped writing... my life got less interesting as I got to grad school, I'm too busy, I'm not the same person as I was before. To some extent this is all true. But the real reason, is when I got to grad school, I kind of lost myself. Or maybe I had never even had myself to begin with. I'm not quite sure yet. What I am sure of is I <i>still</i> haven't found myself. And I'm also quite certain I was afraid to let you in on the very large fact that I don't have anything 'together.'<br />
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I guess I could say I was once a big fish in a small pond. I was good at what I did, which was school. My whole life school is what I did. I did other things on the side mind you, my sorority, Panhellenic, marching band (because I was that cool kid!), horseback riding, volunteering etc. but what I did best was school and yeah, I was pretty good at it.<br />
<br />
And then the pond changed in to a lake and then an ocean and before I knew it I was chugging water just trying to stay alive. And I was failing miserably. Not only was I failing, but I hated every second of it. Not because I was failing but because of what it was. This is not the science I wanted to do and this was most certainly not the life I envisioned for myself. And I found myself in Nashville at my Aunt's kitchen island, wine in hand crying and trying to figure out how to tell my parents I was indeed dropping out of grad school right after the Christmas break.<br />
<br />
Fast forward 8ish months and here I am still in graduate school. Actually, yesterday I just started my second year and I have to say I am quite content with where I am. I love my lab. I love my friends. I love my new roommates. And at least 75% of the time I love my life.<br />
<br />
So how exactly did I jump from a complete breakdown and almost quitting to being satisfied with where I am today? Well, I learned and accepted a few facts about myself.<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Academia is <i>not</i> for me. Once I decided I wanted to go in to research, I knew I was going to be a professor. But as I actually started to see the reality of professorship: too competitive, struggling for money, tons of grant writing, lots of hours for quite frankly not a justified amount of pay... I realized this life was not going to be for me and I had to accept that.</li>
<li>I do not live to work. I work to live. I do quite enjoy my work otherwise I wouldn't be doing it. But guess what, I love me more. Not saying I don't work hard, because I do, but I won't work 80 hr weeks every single week like I used to. I can't do it. My body and my mind cannot handle it. And I enjoy my outside life <i>way</i> too much to be cooped up inside all day every day. Finding a balance between work and play was key.</li>
<li>I <i>need</i> a stress reliever. I need something I can do several times a week to completely take my mind off of work and life and get out some of my pent up aggression/anger. For me, this is running and kickboxing. And hey, I get a great workout to boot. Which really means I can eat more food and drink more beer. </li>
<li>Science hates me. This was probably the most important thing I learned. Science does, in fact, <i>hate </i>me. With a passion. 80% of my stuff doesn't work out the first time, or the second time, and sometimes not even the third time. The more I expect this, the less stressed I get when it happens. And I can happily trouble shoot and continue on my slow... very very slow... uphill battle towards ever getting a PhD. </li>
<li>I'm not going to cure cancer and I'll probably never be published in a journal like <i>Science</i> and I'm ok with that. First off, I don't even work on cancer so I'm probably definitely not going to cure that or any other disease or do anything to get me a Noble Prize. I do basic science research on yeast genetics and I find it pretty interesting. Which doesn't mean you (or frankly most people) do but that's ok. I'm going to be successful in my own way, but I don't need to be famous to do it.</li>
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I'm sure I learned plenty of other things too. Like, I learned how to ride a bike (story coming soon). I learned how to parallel park. And I learned Japan was an island... mind completely blown. I obviously lack all geography skills. </div>
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And I know I still have a long way to go. Like how to not freak out each time I have to give a public presentation. Or how not to procrastinate <i>everything</i>. All good things to probably put on my check list of life lessons. </div>
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But all in all, I'm still pretty much me. I'm still awkward. I still have horrible grammar. My friends still love to make fun of me. I still love wine (though I've drastically cut back on my drinking to the much happiness of my parental units). </div>
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Don't worry, I promise to keep in touch. </div>
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<br />Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-4648491878725068852012-10-25T09:58:00.001-07:002012-10-25T11:53:02.410-07:00Jacked Up SangriaI think it has come to be known that I like alcohol... but only the tasty kinds. And you know what, I'm not ashamed to say it. Mixed drinks are delicious and fun and as long as you don't drink them in too much excess you're fine. I mean, just go to the gym a little more and it shouldn't have that much affect on you. Don't try and get all drunk and eat an entire bag of chips and your life won't change that much. If you have a huge presentation tomorrow, probably safe to say you should stay in. And if you're drinking... this doesn't mean you have to get shwasted. You probably will by accident but I'm sure you're smart enough to think through your own life choices. I am and it's working out pretty well for me.<br />
<br />
Follow these simple rules and your life will be <i>sooo</i> much better. Because alcohol is a happy magical elixir of life. You know... besides that it is in fact a depressant. If we choose to ignore this, it's all good. Besides your liver of course. I'm sure your liver hates you.<br />
<br />
But guess what, I'm 22 and in grad school and life is hard. I won't be this young forever and eventually I will in fact have to grow up. Not now. Not today. I know, I have white girl problems in excess.<br />
<br />
That being said, it is probably <i>never</i> a good idea to have me make you a drink. Why? I don't believe in shot glasses. I don't believe in measuring your alcohol. I believe in pouring until it tastes good and if it doesn't taste good you add a little more. I believe in having good beers (or cheap beer really, I'm not that picky) with great friends. I wholeheartedly believe in 2 Buck Chuck. I believe in spiked cider on a cold day. I believe in boxed wine and Champagne. I believe in pretty drinks, girly drinks, fruity drinks, and manly drinks. I believe in alcohol. <br />
<br />
In honor of my love of alcohol and my new found love for Michigan football, I decided to make a Fall Sangria for our Michigan vs Michigan State tailgate last weekend. And the number one comment I received was "I hate you and your sangria." This was of course after the <i>entire</i> batch was completely devoured.<br />
<br />
Why? Because apparently my Sangria was a little too potent for some people... the kind of potent that you didn't actually realize until you're a full glass (or 4) in.<br />
<br />
This is what Fall Sangria is supposed to be:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Fall sangria</b></i> (courteous of nerve.com and my mama) <br />
2 oranges<br />
1 lemon<br />
2 apples<br />
1-2 cup bourbon<br />
½ cup triple sec<br />
3-4 tsp hot sauce (they use Crystal)<br />
¼ cup simple syrup<br />
2-3 cinnamon sticks</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Combine in a quart container and let marinate for at least a day.<br />
Combine mixture with 2 bottles of sauvignon blanc and 3 cups apple cider and adjust to taste.<br />
Garnish with chopped apple.</div>
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<i>Makes enough for a small party (medium-sized punch bowl)..</i></div>
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This is what my Fall Sangria turned out to be:</div>
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<i> </i></div>
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<b>Kaitlyn's Jacked Up Fall Sangria</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9_S24lLNmkSPhFgfo9kXaieInj4BMnbDraD2dk0tgJpC2aY2AHpJXzXnDAPDis1w-OOPefMMDbEx0ZJaBIuA8EfDFWfyrgfRtVVY7_65rfKzg4YfgsD45kejCrUHPkM3vmLRdFSVMfCU/s1600/Sangria.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9_S24lLNmkSPhFgfo9kXaieInj4BMnbDraD2dk0tgJpC2aY2AHpJXzXnDAPDis1w-OOPefMMDbEx0ZJaBIuA8EfDFWfyrgfRtVVY7_65rfKzg4YfgsD45kejCrUHPkM3vmLRdFSVMfCU/s320/Sangria.jpg" width="320" /></a>4 Oranges</div>
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2 Lemons</div>
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2 Apples</div>
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1 Handle of Bourbon</div>
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1/2 a bottle of Triple Sec</div>
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Pour in hot sauce till you feel it looks like enough</div>
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1ish cup of simple syrup from Splenda (I mean, there are already enough calories in this thing, lets not add more) </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
6 cinnamon sticks</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Combine in a 2.5 L jug and let marinate for at least a day</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Combine mixture with 2 bottles (The 1.5 L size) of Pinot Grigio and about half a gallon of apple cider.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Realize it is too sour. Pour some more sugar in.</div>
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Realize it is WAY too sweet. Pour a whole bottle of Merlot in and realize it is <i>just right.</i> </div>
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Obviously you have now moved to 2 - 2.5 L jugs</div>
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<i>Makes enough for a small party!</i></div>
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You can clearly see the winner of these two recipes.<i> </i><br />
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I'm sure you're sensing a theme from my recent blog posts but really, my life is a whole <i>lot</i> of work and school and nobody wants to hear about that. Do you really want to hear about last week how I was holed up for days in my room up until 2 AM studying for my biochem test. No, because that is boring, horrible news that nobody likes. Especially me. But in case you were wondering, I rocked that biochem test last week. Boo-ya! <br />
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If you were also curious about the development of <a href="http://abnormalee.blogspot.com/2012/10/tequila-thursday.html" target="_blank">Tequila Thursday</a>... it won. It won big time. Just say no folks!! Tequila Thursday is no longer. RIP.<br />
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Now kids, please drink responsibly. We don't need anymore crazies out there than there already are.<i> </i><br />
<i> </i>
Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-51540371031916554962012-10-12T15:40:00.000-07:002012-10-25T09:58:18.988-07:00Tequila ThursdayGrad school is hard. Graduate school is so hard in fact that we as first year graduate students needed to come up with ways to cope.<br />
<br />
These coping mechanisms consist of weekly traditions in which we can all hang out, vent, relax, and in general enjoy life outside of the laboratory and class room.<br />
<br />
Our first tradition involves heading to Ashley's on Tuesday night. Ashley's is <i>amazing</i> they have a ton of regular beers, a revolving tap, and even a whiskey club if you wish to partake in it. Not to mention their bacon, cheddar, chive waffle fries are to die for.<br />
<br />
Next tradition is bagel Wednesday. Bagel Wednesday is probably my favorite thing of all because it involves free bagels. FREE! Supplied to the students of Michigan by the lovely alumni club every Wednesday morning. Bagel Wednesday also involves free coffee and hot chocolate. It's pretty much spectacular.<br />
<br />
Our next brilliant idea as graduate students involves Tequila Thursday. It's simple really. You buy a bottle of tequila and you are not allowed to leave until the bottle is gone. This is not a bad thing. I mean a fifth is only 750 mL. That is 25.36 oz which is equivalent to roughly 17 shots (1.5 oz. each). So lets say there are 6 of us partaking in Tequila Thursday. That is only 2.8 shots each. Not bad, not bad at all. You can still get homework done after that. Not that I condone homework while drinking, but to each their own.<br />
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So you see, in <i>theory</i> Tequila Thursday is a really <i>really</i> good idea and not at all a crazy idea.<br />
<br />
Let me give you alcohol tip #45... if you have Tequila Thursday, <b>stick to the plan</b>. If the plan is to drink a bottle of tequila, then you drink that bottle of tequila like a champ! Nowhere in the plan does it specify that you are allowed to go buy a second bottle of tequila. NO. I wrote the plan and I am <i>positive</i> that was never involved.<br />
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Also, is there wine in Tequila? Is there wine in Tequila Thursday!? You're smart so I'm going to go with you probably know that there most definitely is NOT. Then why are you breaking out 4 bottles of wine on Tequila Thursday? That is not in the plan. What that is, is the <i>worst</i> decision ever. <br />
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The plan is the most important thing about this social outing and I'm pretty sure you just punched the plan in the face. But what do you care right? It's 7 pm on a Thursday night and you're badass. So you're going to think to yourself: Psh... I own you Tequila Thursday. I OWN you.<br />
<br />
And because Tequila Thursday is smart, conniving, and more badass then you will ever be, Tequila Thursday keeps quiet... for now. Silently waiting. Letting you have your good time. Letting you roll on home at 9:30 pm thinking life is just a bowl of freaking fruit loops.<br />
<br />
So Tequila Thursday lets you sleep. He sits patiently until your alarm goes off. And the second he hears that buzzing, Tequila Thursday slaps you across the face SO hard that your head won't stop throbbing for at least 24 hours. Food will immediately become appalling to you and all you will think about all day is your amazing bed and how you're <i>not </i>in it.<br />
<br />
You see... it isn't just Tequila Thursday. The effects last well into Friday evening.<br />
<br />
But what Tequila Thursday doesn't know... and at this point my mother who must be sitting there wondering how she raised such a delinquent daughter who flat out lost her mind when she moved to Michigan is that contrary to popular belief I am a responsible human being. If something needs to be done, I'm all over that! <br />
<br />
So much in fact I got myself up, took a shower, got to work on time to participate in journal club, went to seminar and a luncheon completely composed. So much in fact that it is 6:30pm on a Friday night and I am still at work making some pretty classy proteins. In fact, I am the last person at work because I'm that dedicated... So take that Tequila Thursday. <br />
<br />
So I'm going to call this an even draw.<br />
<br />
Until next week Tequila Thursday...Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-90042974452426194652012-10-08T11:53:00.004-07:002012-10-08T11:55:10.608-07:00The Witches Brew<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Sorry for the hiatus folks. I actually decided to
discontinue this blog. I just never let anybody know. Whoops. My life got crazy.
I moved to the frozen tundra known as Michigan and my ability to focus long
enough to write a blog fully diminished. But I have been asked by friends what
happened to my crazy views about life. And then my mother finally brought it up
and said she misses them and I should start again. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Honestly, how can I say no to my mother? I feel like I
turned her world upside down by moving far far away from New Mexico and causing
a severe case of empty nest syndrome. Really it’s the least I can do! So, I
will be posting at the very least every week if you’re interested. And if I go
on another hiatus I will surely inform you next time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today’s post is informing you about the dangers of alcohol.
In particular, spiced wine. Also known as Witches Brew. The most amazingly
delicious concoction of spices and wine that I have ever tasted in my life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Coming straight from Leelanau Cellars, Northern Michigan
winery, this wine is fantastic in more ways than one. For starters it’s on sale
all throughout the state of Michigan and just about any store for 2 for $10. That’s
1500 ml of scrumptious red wine for a measly $10. This is probably why I have
invested in and consumed 8 bottles already. Second, this is a wine that needs
to be heated and fills you with warmth and bubbly goodness on a cold fall
night. And let’s face it, I need all the warmth I can get out here in Michigan.
Thirdly, if you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hate</i> red wines… which
quite frankly I think is a crime against humanity… but alas there are those of
you out there that the tannins of red wines just don’t do it for you. So, if
you do indeed hate red wine I am about 79.2% positive that you will like this
because of the amazing balance brought to you by the plethora of spices mixed
in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wait… I think I was supposed to talk about the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dangers</i> of alcohol. Really, the main
danger of this alcohol is that you don’t taste it. So… when a completely sane
and not at all alcoholic person decides that the best thing to do on a Sunday
at 2:30 in the afternoon is to start drinking this warm wine somebody should
definitely tell them: No, that is the worst decision I have ever heard of.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Alas, my house that is normally filled with 7 other crazy
characters was empty and I was alone to do as I saw fit. And what I thought was
an excellent idea was to break out the wine and start cooking. All was going swimmingly
until I finished the pumpkin muffins. That’s when the alcohol kicked in and my
kitchen suddenly turned in to the background for “My Drunk Kitchen,” which if
you haven’t watched you should definitely youtube it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You see, side effects of Witches Brew include:</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span>Not knowing how many cans of tuna you put in
your tuna salad. Which will surely cause a nervous breakdown in which you
literally have to go dig through the trash to count the cans you have already
used. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span>Not being able to properly open a spice jar
plastic safety covering doodad… which really is a bit of a hassle to begin with
so we’ll say this one isn’t entirely yours and the Witches Brew’s fault. I am
personally ready to give full blame to the spice company that did not fully
perforate the edges of the plastic for easy removal. However, in order to get
around this you will inevitably pull at the cap as hard as humanly possible until
it gives way sending red curry powder all over yourself and the kitchen floor.
Then you will obviously have to clean up said mess which results in a soaking
wet shirt with curry sauce that never actually comes off and a slippery floor
which you will probably fall on.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span>Thinking a different spice jar has a shake top
when indeed it has a pour top. This will result in about 3 tablespoons of your
spice ending up in your soup rather than the 1 teaspoon it originally called
for. In order to rectify this situation, you will just add more pumpkin hoping
it will hide the spice intensity… which you will learn when you’re sober that
it definitely does not.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span>Deciding that you should put your very hot soup
in the blender (like the recipe says to do) but accidently forgetting the lid,
resulting in firey hot curried pumpkin-apple soup to splash on to your hand. In
your alcoholic haze you will momentarily forget how to use water as a cleaning
and cooling aid for your almost 3<sup>rd</sup> degree burn.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span>Consuming Witches Brew will most definitely lead
to all of your roommates coming home… finding<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>you drunk cooking with a house that has intoxicatingly harsh spiced
alcohol fumes wafting through it. It’s ok though because they will proceed to
eat all of your pumpkin muffins and join you in consuming an additional three
bottles of spiced wine until everybody has realized that all the work they were
supposed to do that Sunday night most definitely did not get done.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span>Last but most certainly not least, it is highly
likely that your wine consumption will end with a skype call to your friends
back in New Mexico who are thoroughly entertained by you and your entire life
shambles. Additionally, they will declare you haven’t changed a bit.</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who am I kidding? Witches Brew is probably the most fantastic
invention I have ever heard of and I highly encourage you to obtain some with
whatever means necessary. And by obtain some… I really mean you should consider
buying 10-20 bottles because it’s only sold seasonally. Which at this point is
my biggest concern.</div>
Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-15651484479530833322012-08-09T07:34:00.000-07:002012-08-09T07:34:14.421-07:00'MericaI have recently discovered some interesting facts about myself.<br />
<br />
As I have mentioned before, the majority of my friends feel I am destined to marry a Canadian. I now know that I cannot. I cannot actually marry anyone other than an American. This is a very sad realization that I had to come to terms with over the last couple of days. The reasoning is well... the Olympics.<br />
<br />
I'm kind of obsessed with them and I get really <i>really</i> American. As in, I instantly dislike any other country that is going up against the United States and I get very competitive. So competitive in fact that during the USA vs. Canada women's semifinal soccer game the other day I: almost cried, yelled, screamed a little, and was 2 seconds away from getting in a bar fight with some Canadians who were also in the same bar obviously not cheering for USA. Which is not ok with me.<br />
<br />
So competitive that I considered canceling or moving lunch date plans to watch the USA vs. Japan fighting it out for gold today. Seriously? I was willing to move around my <i>entire</i> day with people I haven't seen in months and will not see again for a very long time since I am moving to Michigan on Saturday. All of that for a game I can DVR and watch tonight. You should be happy to know that I did not change or cancel any plans with my New Mexican friends and am looking forward to a great day. However, I have checked the DVR settings at least 5 times this morning already just to make sure the game is actually taping.<br />
<br />
I am rather ashamed of this crazy side of me. Especially because truth is, I LOVE other countries. I love Canada so much... I bought a passport just so I can go up and visit all the time since I will be living so close. Do you know how expensive passports are? It's a small chunk of change that I would not be willing to spend unless I actually wanted to visit another country. Which I do. I am also a huge fan of Italy because of my Italian roots and I often cheer for them and Canada in most sporting events... as long as they are <i>not</i> up against the USA.<br />
<br />
I don't know what it is. It's some kind of competitive switch that I have absolutely no control over. At least, I recognize I have a problem. A problem that would cause intense turmoil in any relationship every two years for the summer and winter Olympics.<br />
<br />
So, I am sad to report that I can no longer fulfill the lifelong dreams of all my friends in marrying a Canadian.<br />
<br />
I am sorry to all those I have let down. If it helps, I am also devastated about this news.Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-84141385119626778152012-07-29T15:22:00.000-07:002012-07-30T19:20:12.698-07:00If you really knew me...This afternoon amongst my crazy multitasking... and by multitasking I mean watching a movie, watching women's gymnastics, archery, swimming, and diving in the olympics while not ever really getting out of bed... I received a call to duty.<br />
<br />
On this lazy, dark, drizzly day fit for staying in and watching the Olympics, I would normally shrug off any call to duty mainly because I'm in my complete and utter useless stage. Actually, that is really the only stage I have been in all weekend and I surely do not wish to break my lazy streak on account of some formal call to duty.<br />
<br />
However, this particular call can be done from my bed with the simple tapping of computer keys. All the while, the Olympics plays happily and undisturbed in the background.<br />
<br />
So what you ask is this call to duty? Well, there seems to be a blog craze going around. Something simple in which you post about things people would know if they really, really knew you. My good friend, sorority sister, and fellow blogger Jenna posted it on her blog this afternoon and tagged me in the this blogging trend. So here it goes...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>If you really knew me...</i></b></div>
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You would know that I cannot spell to save my life. I actually just misspelled undisturbed and my computer had to correct it for me. I'm surprised they let me out of elementary school.</div>
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You would know that I absolutely love soup. It's the best and most amazing food ever and comes in 20,000+ flavors and consistencies. My favorite being Chicken Tortilla Soup at 2 particular restaurants back in New Mexico.</div>
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You would know that I am completely and hopelessly addicted to 19th century literature turned movie. North and South, Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Little Women. You name it and I love it!<br />
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You would also know that though I love the above mentioned movies, my <i>favorite</i> movies include Fight Club, The Boondock Saints, Die Hard collection of movies, and Saw collection.</div>
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You would know that I <i>hate</i> knocking on doors and ringing door bells. I avoid it all costs. It makes me uncharacteristically nervous. If I am visiting somebody, I usually call them when I arrive. I'm sure there is some deep seeded physiological reason for this but I'm not entirely sure what it is.</div>
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You would know that I <a href="http://abnormalee.blogspot.com/2011/11/fear-of-cotton-balls.html" target="_blank">cannot stand cotton balls</a>, polar fleece, cue tips, or anything of the like. Don't ask... I don't have a logical answer.</div>
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You would know that when I get really excited, and I start to talk too fast I shorten words and don't even realize it. Not because it has suddenly become the cool thing to do but because my mouth is going much more quickly than my brain can process. The most common is <i>because</i>... which I often shorten to <i>bees</i>. As in... "I'm so excited bees in two days my sister gets here and then in 9 days I go back to New Mexico."</div>
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You would know that the very first thing I see on a guy <i>always</i> is his hair. Good hair is the difference between a cute guy and a hot guy. And a bad haircut on a guy can ruin <i>everything</i>. This also makes me very aware of when any of the guys around me have just gotten a haircut. Even if it's a tiny trim, I notice. </div>
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You would know that I need alone time. I am not one of those people who can constantly be surrounded by other people. Being too social actually really stresses me out and makes me very grumpy. Not that I don't love being around people. I do... I just need space sometimes.This makes clingy guys a problem.</div>
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You would know that I literally have to fight myself to stay awake in a car if I am not driving. It's torture. If I'm in the passenger seat, I definitely want to be sleeping. Five minutes in a car and I can be dead asleep and not wake up again for hours. It's not by choice either. It's a physical reaction of being in a car that I just cannot help. It's so damn relaxing! Unfortunately, this makes me a really bad road trip partner.</div>
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You would know that I don't actually own a brush. No, I'm not kidding. I do not brush my hair or comb my hair really. I have a pick that I use to detangle my hair right out of the shower but that is it. Experience has taught me that my insanely frizzy, thick, wavy/curly hair is turned in to a straight up afro at even the site of a brush. </div>
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You would know that I <i>love</i> ellipses. You know... those three little dots. I don't even think I use them correctly most of the time but that isn't going to stop me!</div>
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You would know that I am excited but really, really, <i>really </i>nervous to uproot the only life I have ever known and move to Michigan... a place where I know not a single soul, in a mere 13 days.</div>
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You would know that I love my life, I love my friends, I love my family, and partly due to this I take things very personally.</div>Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-4552079292737341262012-07-28T19:48:00.000-07:002012-07-28T20:40:16.823-07:00What Up!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This is the story of how my life has been made instantly better and surprisingly worse by the show How I Met Your Mother.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">You see, since 2005 people have been raving about this show. So much so that people often quote catch phrases used in the show. It really is an amazing show. I may even say it is legen...wait for it...dary!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But what have I been doing for the past 8 years the show has been airing? Well, not actually watching it of course. When it came out, I was only 15 years old and quite frankly I wasn't in to watching witty and slightly crude humored sitcoms. As a junior in high school, I was watching things like <i>Supernatural</i> (Jensen Ackles. Nuff said), <i>Charmed</i> (3 kick-ass witches), <i>Gilmore Girls</i> (charming and witty and I own the entire series), <i>House</i> (when it used to be good), <i>CSI </i>(also when it used to be good and with the original cast), <i>24</i> (because Jack Bauer could save my life any day), and other collections of like shows. But I was definitely not watching How I Met Your Mother.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Time passed and I heard ravings about the show but I just couldn't make myself start watching it. By this time, it was already 3 or 4 seasons in and I felt like I just missed too much.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Then something crazy happened. I received a Facebook video post linking to a song entitled "Lets Go to the Mall" by Robin Sparkles. It really is a classic song filled with true talent and lyrics that will just blow your mind. If you have not, you must youtube this video. It will change your life. I promise you this.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmG5FznieDbIllXD6yLHKa3_0RnPZMSy5CXiAdscsJzBDXqMwja9ZwTmnEXMqs4nURH6doTZ7Z4u793fNJsMkqRZpQWledyDNHNqKm5AVDlaju2u8oFXGdMkIkso9nHRh3JcNK_m1t88/s1600/Robin+Sparkles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmG5FznieDbIllXD6yLHKa3_0RnPZMSy5CXiAdscsJzBDXqMwja9ZwTmnEXMqs4nURH6doTZ7Z4u793fNJsMkqRZpQWledyDNHNqKm5AVDlaju2u8oFXGdMkIkso9nHRh3JcNK_m1t88/s1600/Robin+Sparkles.jpg" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Along with this video came a post of how I look and remind my friend of Robin Sparkles/Robin Sherbatsky... a character in the show How I Met Your Mother. Obviously I don't see the physical resemblance because Cobie Smulders (the actor who plays these characters) is beautiful, but I must say the character does remind me of myself. Her complete inability to commit, her not wanting to have kids, her even being afraid of kids, and her passion for dogs. Only difference is she is Canadian... which may or may not be a difference since apparently I was supposed to be born a Canadian and will one day actually <a href="http://abnormalee.blogspot.com/2012/07/oh-canada.html" target="_blank">marry a Canadian</a> according to the awesome friends I have.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjacTnRQ6tmQ6Hnb9LwmvcJF3qRQS7_jphRpIsbyq5NCbaT8iNrZdcc2KnKC-BVJsfEwuONIr6joI-6cLrUQSNDzDD2T_ZEdFGQyskBMZBxrLTFFKX34fQpLGaFWqWj0n4WMMrnAuejqTM/s1600/Robin+Sherbatsky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjacTnRQ6tmQ6Hnb9LwmvcJF3qRQS7_jphRpIsbyq5NCbaT8iNrZdcc2KnKC-BVJsfEwuONIr6joI-6cLrUQSNDzDD2T_ZEdFGQyskBMZBxrLTFFKX34fQpLGaFWqWj0n4WMMrnAuejqTM/s1600/Robin+Sherbatsky.jpg" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">One of her quotes is, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"I mean yeah their shoes are cute when they're real little but beyond that whats the draw?!"</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">Which kind of sums up how I feel about kids actually. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">After this first comparison, I started to receive more and more, and I just knew. This was the universe's way of telling me I <i>must</i> watch this show.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">So at the beginning of June... yep just 58 days ago... I started watching How I Met Your Mother on Netflix. And in these 58 days I have gotten through 112 episodes and am currently on the second episode of season 6. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">My obsession with this sitcom grew a little too intensely and actually kept me from being productive... a lot. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">But the biggest thing I noticed about this show is how it is affecting my real actual life.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">The first time it happened was a couple of weeks ago but I shook the feeling off. But after last night, I can not ignore the problem any longer.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">Last night my friend and I were at a bar, when this boy starts chatting us up. Though he was nice and not nearly Barney Stinson like I found myself finding classic Barney pick-up tricks, comparing our conversations to exact conversations used in the show. And eventually telling myself that this guy has no chance because even though he didn't "Suit Up" he is in fact a version of Barney Stinson. Not in anyway as bad as Barney because he was actually nice and appeared to be somewhat intelligent. Probably Barney when he first started out with his player status before he hit it really big... you know, at the beginning of his career.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">And that is when I realized I now officially take all bar advice from Barney Stinson. Except instead of using his advice to pick up people, I use them to spot a pseudo Barney Stinson at a bar and steer clear of him or at least have an entertaining night watching them with their ridiculous pick up lines, boasting, and fake-impressive stories.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">Yep, Barney Stinson my bar guide... a fictional TV character. A character who sleeps with over 200 women and is in the kindest of terms, a man whore. A character who is played by a man who in real life isn't even <i>attracted</i> to women.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 14px;">My life is so messed up, I cannot even begin to tell you... </span>Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-34602463409814188772012-07-19T15:48:00.002-07:002012-07-19T16:05:36.344-07:00FoodyI've never posted about food before but I'm thinking maybe I should start. If there is one thing I love in this world, it's food. Maybe a little too much. I love it so much that if I had enough money and knew I would be successful business owner, I would drop out of the sciences and open up my own bakery. The muffin, scone, bagel, cupcake type of bakery. But alas, the economy is horrible and I am in no position to start a business nor am I a good enough cook to achieve excellent success.<br />
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But I do <i>love</i> to cook. Food is so much a part of our culture and who we are as human beings. It's what we do when we get together with friends. It's what you we do when family comes to visit. It's what we do when you have a good day and want to celebrate with something special or when you have a bad day and need a little pick me up. Food is pretty freakin fantastic.<br />
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It's gotten harder though as I grow up and move on in the world though. Food takes time to prepare... and time is not something I find readily. And sooo much food is not good for you. But lets be real with ourselves. It's not logical to cut out all of the unhealthy things we eat. That is just asking way too much. Balance and smarter cooking I think are the keys. So lately I've decided to try and maximize my food and stay healthier while also being practical with my time.<br />
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I've had several people ask me about this dish and I happened to make it today so I decided to post it on here. It's absolutely fantastic. I found it on yummly.com which is one of my all time favorite sites when it comes to looking up recipes. That and pinterest of course. You can find just about anything you could imagine on yummly and you can tailor your search to a specific food item or even to a specific calorie amount that you're looking for.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEu7vT-qtNw63z7jxfZkjhUi4oYJdlFHVHsBqToU7GV7-87SCMzUvJKHee2-G33VAk4sdhuLO1RdtWEjpf4K31z14gXQD2UiYGFOe5HrJRHw97CVkOSrDzOnVXYh0D27TCTm-bCXGMTo/s1600/DSCN0360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEu7vT-qtNw63z7jxfZkjhUi4oYJdlFHVHsBqToU7GV7-87SCMzUvJKHee2-G33VAk4sdhuLO1RdtWEjpf4K31z14gXQD2UiYGFOe5HrJRHw97CVkOSrDzOnVXYh0D27TCTm-bCXGMTo/s400/DSCN0360.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This particular recipe is called Gnocchi with Spinach and Peas. If you've never actually made gnocchi, you are missing out. You can make them homemade which I hear is excellent or you can be lazy (like me!) and purchase them from any grocery store. All they are are dumplings. Magical little potato pillows of goodness. And they are ridiculously easy to prepare from the package.<br />
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After all of this healthy talk I just threw at you, I'm going to give you a recipe that isn't the healthiest thing in the world. It has quite a few carbs (hello, they're made from potatoes!) and higher in fat but relatively low in calories. So it is one of those meals you make every once in a while... not every day.<br />
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So here is the recipe, and as I find good delicious things to make I'll put them up on my blog and let you know.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 19px; font-weight: bold;"><b><u>Gnocchi with Spinach and Peas</u></b></span></h3>
1 cup of frozen peas that have been thawed<br />
1/2 cup of heavy cream<br />
1/4 tsp of hot red pepper flakes (I use more... a <i>lot</i> more because I like firey, spicy food but be careful because it can get hot fast)<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhkgCzxRJvfq063_XidaXTBTfTR9o3hi1pBvfL4ukibzV7e45tSzPCAvPq9JYncB51sEkFOltLlOghfxvVe-VvELNVYRfTefm6oKFw3Ju7f5TA-lRKP1CUaGQFEd0GELdfiNhWSJyE1U/s1600/DSCN0354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhkgCzxRJvfq063_XidaXTBTfTR9o3hi1pBvfL4ukibzV7e45tSzPCAvPq9JYncB51sEkFOltLlOghfxvVe-VvELNVYRfTefm6oKFw3Ju7f5TA-lRKP1CUaGQFEd0GELdfiNhWSJyE1U/s200/DSCN0354.JPG" width="200" /></a>1 garlic clove smashed... or 2 or 3 really. You really cannot go wrong with garlic.<br />
1/4 tsp salt<br />
3 packed cups of baby spinach<br />
1 tsp grated lemon zest<br />
1 1/2 tsp fresh lemon juice<br />
1 lb gnocchi<br />
1/4 cup reduced fat parmesan cheese<br />
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Simmer the peas, cream, red pepper flakes, garlic and salt in a covered skillet for just about 5 minutes until the peas start to get tender. Remove the lid, add your spinach and cook on medium-low heat until your spinach is wilted. It looks like a lot of spinach at first but spinach cooks down crazy small. Remove from the heat and add in your lemon juice and lemon zest.<br />
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At the same time, boil your gnocchi in salted water until al dente. About 2 minutes after they start to float to the top. Save some of the pasta water and drain the gnocchi. Add the gnocchi to your peas and spinach mixture. Toss together and add extra pasta water to coat make sure everything is evenly coated. Top with your parmesan cheese.<br />
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And that is it folks. Easiest meal ever and never takes me more than 15-20 minutes. I always save the leftovers and they make pretty decent lunches for work. Keep in mind gnocchi is much better freshly made than re-heated... but hey, it beats a sandwich for lunch!<br />
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<u>Nutrition (per serving - 4 servings total)</u></div>
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Calories: 326</div>
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Fat: 14 g</div>
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Carbohydrates: 46 g</div>
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Protein: 10 g</div>
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<br />Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-34515530707927638002012-07-15T15:54:00.001-07:002012-07-15T16:15:03.961-07:00Oh CanadaAs you may know, I am moving to Michigan very very soon. As in I leave for Michigan in 27 days and get there in 29 days.<br />
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Needless to say the only thing I have packed is my shot glass collection... which is obviously the most important part. So important in fact that it took me <i>hours</i> to individually wrap each and every one and pack them nice and neatly into boxes before I left for the summer in Boston. Because really, the only thing I will need in graduate school are shot glasses right?<br />
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Who needs clothes, shoes, towels, bedding, toiletries and books anyway? Those things are overrated.<br />
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As you can see, my lack of packing seems to be a rather large problem. But I still have 27 days to get my life together... nope! I only have 3.5 really short days in New Mexico at the end of the summer to pull it all together. And it's not like all I am doing is packing... I do have other plans:<br />
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1. Eat a TON of food. Literally, I may gain 10 pounds in 3.5 days and I don't even give a damn. This may be the last time to eat at some of my favorite restaurants and eat so much yummy Mexican food.<br />
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2. Have lunch at Andele's with one of my best friends.<br />
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3. Have an all day happy hour extravaganza with some of my favorite people. Oh happy hour how I have missed you!! Boston doesn't believe in happy hours... no really, it's illegal. Reason #15 why living in Boston would be a bad choice.<br />
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4. Family dinner.<br />
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5. Maybe some hiking with good friends who will also be in town.<br />
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6. Dinner and drinks with the Sisterhood.<br />
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7. Bar time... all the time.<br />
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And then after all of that, I can possibly, maybe start <i>thinking </i>about packing. As you can see, I have my plate (and cup) rather full for 3.5 days. I even had to nix a dentist appointment I had wanted to schedule because clean teeth take a backseat to good friends and family.<br />
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However, none of these encompass a main concern. A concern of mine that has been growing steadily for some time. What exactly is this concern? <b>How do I go about finding a Canadian to marry?</b><br />
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You think I am kidding. I assure you I am not. I have never been more serious about anything in my life. Which is saying a lot because I'm actually quite serious when it comes to school and you know, my future. Just those little things.<br />
<br />
This concern of mine came about when I realized the pressure the world was putting on me to marry a Canadian man. The world seems to be very adamant about this and vocally expresses it through my friends. <br />
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You see, since I have been telling people that I am moving to Michigan in August I have gotten a lot of responses. Do you know what the number one response has been? Nothing to do with how this will be great for my future, how I'm going to hate the cold, how I will love Ann Arbor. No... the number one response I have received is that moving to Michigan will be the best thing for me because my chances of finding a Canadian husband have increased by 85% percent due to proximity to the actual country of Canada.<br />
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When I asked my friends why everyone who knows me believes I should marry a Canadian these are some of the responses I have received...<br />
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1. "You'll have a really sweet house in the woods in Canada that will be an excellent place to visit and do wintery wonderful activities."<br />
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2. "You love syrup."<br />
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3. "I know you really hate kids, Kaitlyn, but you'll <i>love </i>Canadian kids. There's a big difference."<br />
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4. "Not only will you have awesome Canadian kids but they'll speak French and wear berets."<br />
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5. "I mean, look at you. You basically scream F off boys unless you're Canadian. I wouldn't be surprised if that is the first question you ask on a date."<br />
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6. "You talk like a Canadian anyway. This way you'd have an excuse to say Eh all the time."<br />
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7. My personal favorite... "Obviously I need to use your son for his dual citizenship to smuggle Cuban cigars into the USA because Americans apparently aren't allowed to go to Cuba. I've got a lot riding on this."<br />
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And we wonder why the rest of the world hates Americans.<br />
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I am honestly baffled as to how this Canadian obsession came in to being. But seriously folks, I feel like I have a moral obligation, a duty to uphold and so many people counting on me. I'm really starting to feel the pressure of the situation. I may even have to put out personal paper adds for this issue... or hold auditions.<br />
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How hard can it be to find a good Canadian boy in the Ann Arbor vicinity?<br />
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I'm not sure but... Challenge Accepted.<br />
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<br />Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-86979128183346573632012-06-29T08:42:00.000-07:002012-06-29T08:42:04.392-07:00Hot MessI have to say, Boston has not been nearly as amazing as last year. I am 100% convinced that I should NEVER live here. I love this city. It really is amazing but there have been some signs that are just too much to ignore when it comes to living here. It is kind of like the universe is throwing huge gigantic signs in my face letting me know this is not where I am meant to be.<br />
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It makes my decision about going to Michigan for grad school just that much better. Way better in fact.<br />
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What are some of these signs exactly? Well, I will list a few from both of my summers combined...<br />
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<ul>
<li>Falling down a flight of stairs... twice... consecutively.</li>
<li>Hurting my ankle.</li>
<li>Getting an ulcer.</li>
<li>Getting a really bad flu</li>
<li>Getting a viral throat infection</li>
<li>Getting an ear infection</li>
<li>Lung congestion</li>
<li>All of this interrupting my running progress.</li>
<li>Rain... so much rain.</li>
<li>Clouds all the time... even if it isn't raining.</li>
<li>Experiencing the worst interview process of my life at BU (really it was horrendous. I was shocked at how horribly put together the process was). But I am so grateful for this because if I had liked it and decided to stay in Boston I would have been making the <i>worst</i> life choice. </li>
</ul>
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Mainly though it is all the sickness. I mean, I'm a sickly person. I often get sick with random little things. Even if I eat healthy (which I really really have been this summer), take vitamins every day, drink lots of water and do everything humanly possible to make myself healthy. It doesn't help. I am still bound to get sick eventually. It's just the law of my nature. And nobody is ever quite surprised when I show up with a runny nose, or a scratchy voice, or a fever that would make Hades jealous. </div>
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However, the amount of sickness that I have had in just 6 weeks of being in Boston is obscene. And when I get sick, I genuinely don't give a damn about anything... except showing up for work. I'm pretty adamant about that. </div>
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-Sidebar: Did you know that 79% of men and 84% of women do not feel comfortable with taking off from work when they are genuinely sick. Yep, go ahead and group me in with that 84%. It makes me nervous and stressed and for some obscure reason I think I will lose my job or get a bad review if I take off work. This is stupid. Nobody at works wants to get sick with whatever you have. And lets face it, you aren't even an efficient worker when you're really sick. And if your boss really truly gets mad about you getting healthy because you're at home puking your guts out or curled in your bed with a fever of 101 then you should not want to work there and I suggest looking for a new place of employment. </div>
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Yes, I know all of this but I still <i>hate</i> calling in sick and I don't think this will actually change for me anytime soon.</div>
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Anyway, I genuinely don't give a damn about anything. Like getting dressed... who does that!? If, I am not at work I am in my pajamas. True fact, I actually walked to CVS to get medicine in my pajamas because I was too exhausted to put on a pair of jeans and didn't even want to be leaving the house in the first place. </div>
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Ironically, I think I was hit on by the cashier... or I am being stalked by him. I really have not yet decided which one it is. Then again, I suppose if you're walking around in your pajamas in Boston you're kind of hard to miss. Especially if you did the exact same thing 2 weeks prior because you were sick then too. </div>
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My life is kind of a hot mess and besides taking bottles full of drugs... the prescribed kind... I guess I am really not in too big of a rush to "get it together." </div>Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-81295312284847259042012-06-04T06:15:00.002-07:002012-06-04T06:18:18.959-07:00Batty BostonThere are many things in life that I think I handle quite well and with a certain amount of grace, though I may complain about it at the time. Some of these things include working 12 hour days and 80 hour weeks though I would much prefer not to and am trying to wean myself off from doing this (as if it is really my decision). Falling down/up stairs... obviously this is not very graceful but it's something you <i>must</i> get used to if you're as clumsy as me. Sticking to running at least 3 miles a day 5-6 times a week. Cleaning. Moving to new places where you don't know <i>anybody. </i>Standing in line at the grocery store. Being on my feet for well over 80% of my day. Sticking to a budget. Being covered in rumen fluid and god only knows what else from certain animals such as sheep and cattle...<br />
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However, there is one thing I absolutely CANNOT handle and this is furry, crawling, flying, insects/animals or just about anything else <i>inside</i> my house that should be <i>outside</i> my house. And let me tell you, I've had my fair share of creepy crawly things in my day: scorpions, centipedes, geckos, numerous varieties of spiders, and even a mouse once which just about made me throw up.<br />
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So, when I was going to put my water glass away in the dishwasher late the other night I didn't expect a bird to fly less than 2 inches away from my face in my living room. This caused an entire series of events... me running to my room freaking out, waking up all of my roommates, hiding behind doors and running frantically away from the flying animal.<br />
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The next and only obvious choice is to call our parents. I mean what else do we do when you're freaking out and contemplating shooing the winged creature into the stairwell and having somebody else deal with it. So I get my parents on the phone and I blurt out to my dad that there is a bird in the house and I don't know how to get it out and we are currently locked in our rooms for fear of being attacked by birds. All I can think about is the movie Birds and my outlook on the situation gets drastically worse. Then my Dad pauses and asks, "Is it a bird? Or a bat?"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjur0J6Z4eWL5mvruG6k0Aot3yVfmzLiT4phpYTfFhnyeQKq4WkIHr0fiJ48EKJcDPRpB5E9MG8jSLB5ShwrOluW0sN6ZtecwSK0UeBBy2Xs3JxdwWaITBSmSzeYxFjwgjPvFMcvCgVzfw/s1600/Bat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjur0J6Z4eWL5mvruG6k0Aot3yVfmzLiT4phpYTfFhnyeQKq4WkIHr0fiJ48EKJcDPRpB5E9MG8jSLB5ShwrOluW0sN6ZtecwSK0UeBBy2Xs3JxdwWaITBSmSzeYxFjwgjPvFMcvCgVzfw/s320/Bat.jpg" width="320" /></a>No freakin way... it's probably a bat. It's 11 at night why would a bird be in here. I don't have glasses on and I ran away too quickly to see if it was actually a bird.<br />
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And that is when all of Medical Microbiology comes flashing back to me and I think of the cases in which kids got scratched/bit by a bat got rabies and died. That's it folks. I'm going to have to climb my way out of my 3 story apartment because get real if you think I am going back out there to suffer rabies. That stuff is crazy.<br />
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So yes, it was indeed a bat. And it took 3 girls and one boy (my roommate's boyfriend) well over 40 minutes to get this crazy flying creature out of our house. In the process we manage to completely contaminate a trashcan, throw several pillows and tissue boxes around the room, and in the end <i>accidentally </i>kill the bat.<br />
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And don't judge me about this. I love animals as much as the next person... probably more than the next person. Once, I ran over a rabbit and I had to pull over on the side of the rode because I was crying so hard because I felt so bad for the poor little bunny. But I also love not having rabies. I've decided this is probably a really really good thing. So much that I don't feel bad for this little bat. It shouldn't have come in to our house in the first place...<br />
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Suffice to say, Boston has been making me a little batty.<br />
<br />Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-17594188744564476532012-05-26T18:37:00.004-07:002012-05-26T18:37:53.435-07:00If A Boy Gives You A CakeHave you ever wondered what makes a person ask another person out? Or how they actually go about asking someone out? I have... many times.<br />
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Like today, when I was at the grocery store and this 20 something year old cashier starts chatting me up about how unfocused I am. Which, really I was. I was getting my groceries and truly off in a world all my own thinking about meals I wanted to make, where I wanted to go running, where was the best place to buy a coffee travel mug because not having coffee every morning was starting to drive me crazy... all in all I was not really at the grocery store.<br />
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So, in this state of mind, without even thinking about it, I was completely ignoring the cashier as he was blabbing on and on about who knows what. Summer, memorial day... New York I think. It is all a little hazy. I wasn't paying attention and his what I think was an italian accent was rather hard to actually understand. Especially when I am quite hard of hearing already. I think it is why my normal talking voice is so incredibly loud. I really just do not hear all that well.<br />
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All of this mixed together lead to a really strange and extremely awkward encounter.<br />
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As I am helping bag my stuff, which I am not exactly sure if you're supposed to do that but I always do anyway, I find myself whipping out a few "Yeahs," a couple "Uh-huhs," and quite a lot of "Mmm-hmms."<br />
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That is why the next part was very odd... I hear the cashier say, "So I guess thats a no?"<br />
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My head snaps up from my purse where I was frantically trying to find my debit card. I make a tiny second of eye contact with this guy and look back down and mumble a "I'm sorry what?"<br />
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"So I guess that's a no to a date."<br />
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At that my eyes flash back up with my debit card half way in the air where I stand a little frozen. Did this all really just happen? Then, I think he realizes how not present my mind is so was making a joke... but when I smile and kind of half giggle, his face starts to fall a little... and I realize what a bitch I am being at that precise moment.<br />
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First, I don't listen to the guy. Then, I don't even answer when he asks me out. Then, I proceed to laugh at the whole situation. Super classy Kaitlyn. Super classy.<br />
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Somehow, I managed to get out of there with something along the lines of I'm flattered truly but no thank you.<br />
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Then it hits me... why the hell did he even ask me out anyway... in a grocery store. I was in his presence for a mere 2 minutes maybe. I didn't really talk to him even or look at him. What in this whole situation makes a guy want to ask me out. Absolutely nothing. I appear to be a pre-occupied, day dreaming girl who could really not give a flying flip about what is going on around her. I am truly astonished at this entire situation. I still can't seem to figure this one out.<br />
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But, I need to mention that after the fact I whole heartedly appreciated how he went about the entire deal.<br />
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I have a huge problem. It's doesn't have a name but it probably really should. It's so bad that every single one of my friends has commented on it several times and instructed me to fix it.<br />
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You see, this little problem I have is not noticing when a guy is asking me out. <i>Ever.</i> I just don't see the cues. They go completely unrecognized to me at all times. I have had more than a handful of guys tell me that they tried to ask me out and I apparently "shot them down" ... more than once. Guys I, at the time, really liked and was <i>convinced</i> they didn't like me. So bad in fact, that once I was apparently in some kind of relationship with this boy and I was completely unaware of it. How does that even happen!!? Once, I was offered a cake and turned it down because I was <i>too full</i>. Which I was. I had just eaten lunch actually. Who the heck am I?<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVnWZInYc4vuDw9wo1axDuO8KritEyCMzG_EkPDh7xh4ppKHPHy0lvuq8VyzAPLE7pAbZUU3CP9_3z0G5l4JgLQinFz7xdWV4tIXD_vIDuAADZvD2iFbrRFbuDpHeWwp9Z6x-iL_3SeE/s1600/cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVnWZInYc4vuDw9wo1axDuO8KritEyCMzG_EkPDh7xh4ppKHPHy0lvuq8VyzAPLE7pAbZUU3CP9_3z0G5l4JgLQinFz7xdWV4tIXD_vIDuAADZvD2iFbrRFbuDpHeWwp9Z6x-iL_3SeE/s320/cake.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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People... let me give you life's MOST IMPORTANT lesson. If a boy offers you cake. You never say no. Never. Do you hear me? I don't care if you just ate an entire antelope family. You eat that flippin cake. If you never learn anything else in life. Learn that. </h3>
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Anyways... I am told classic dating cues are: Are you hungry? Lets grab lunch! Want to go to dinner. Want to see this movie with me Saturday night? How about we hang out sometime? We should have coffee sometime. Want some cake?<br />
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How are you supposed to know when and when aren't these are dating cues? I have no earthly idea. For all I know you could actually just be hungry and I'm the only person there to have lunch with. Or maybe I'm just a really good friend... I'm pretty decent at that I hear. And yeah, I like to hang out with just about everybody.<br />
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This problem started way back when I was the crazy girl from <i>He's Just Not That In To You.</i> No... really... it was <i>bad. </i>I used to see in to everything a guy would do and was just so positive that he was in to me. When he so positively was not.<br />
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So, I flipped off the switch and consequently I read in to <i>nothing. </i>I'm one of those girls you have to flat out say... "Hey want to go on a date?" or "I like you" or maybe just kiss me. Those would all do the trick. Because if you just ask me for coffee or dinner or a movie... it's just not going to register through my head.<br />
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I am sure you MUST see this as being a huge problem. And believe me I have tried to flip that switch back the other way or even more in the middle and it just won't work. I can't do it. I can't un-train my mind.<br />
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So you see though I didn't want to go on a date with Mr. Cashier Man there was absolutely no mistaking his intentions.<br />
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I mean, I really should have just said yes because at this rate and in this state I am going to die alone with my 10 medium size dogs at my side and a huge uneaten <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">cake</span>.<br />
<br />Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-11086243841698999552012-05-21T14:27:00.000-07:002012-05-21T14:27:12.081-07:00MemoriesIt has been awhile. But, as I said in my last post I am no longer apologizing for this. However, I can shed some light on to why I have been a little MIA and why I will hopefully be writing to you more soon.<br />
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A lot has happened in the last couple of weeks... and I sure do mean a lot. First, and most important, things first. I graduated from college. What an amazing feeling it was. Not the actual graduation. The actual graduation was a waste of 3ish hours of my life where I stood in the hot sun for an hour, almost fell down and broke my life on the steepest ramp of the world in my heels, waited inside in chairs that were too close with other graduates who were just as hot and miserable as I was, and after all of that I walked across a stage for less than 30 seconds.<br />
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It was riveting, as I am sure you can tell. I understand that this was for my family so I sucked it up and did it anyway. And I have to say thank the universe that it is over. The actual amazing feeling came when I stepped out of my last final, a final I must say I only studied about 2 hours for. It was Ecology... and I did <i>not</i> enjoy ecology to say the least. And as my last final in a class I was about 90% positive I was getting a B with or without studying, I really did not see the point in wasting a full day of studying for it.<br />
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Regardless, after the final I had to walk through a large chunk of campus to get back to my car. And that is when it hit me. This was the last time I was going to walk those grounds as an NMSU student. The last time I was going to cross the Horseshoe (a chunk of grass with a street around it shaped like... you guessed it... a horseshoe). The last time I was going to pass that horrible Bell that chimed every 15 minutes, always a couple of minutes early of the actual 15, 30, 45, or hour mark. That stupid bell that would wake me up in the middle of the night when I lived in the dorms.<br />
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And suddenly I found myself actually missing it a little. I would never listen to it again and think well, I'm officially late to class.<br />
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So many other little things triggered great memories of midnight walks, mud puddles, stress, happiness... and now they are officially that... memories.<br />
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I write this from Boston where I am currently getting a little nostalgic about NMSU and New Mexico. Something, I knew would eventually happen but something I was running from too. But it feels good to be done. I closed a little chapter of my life and it feels... Sad. Amazing. Scary. Exciting. And 50 other things rolled into 1.<br />
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I would like to mention I did in fact get a 4.0 which means I got an A in Ecology... which really was a horrible thing to happen. It just backed up my decision to not study... which is a horrible habit to have.<br />
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So, right after my final I pretty much jumped into graduation, and parties, and more parties, did I mention I went to some parties ;) But really, it was almost exhausting!! Then I packed about a quarter of my life and got tired so I stopped and took a little gallivant to Maryland and the HHMI headquarters which was fun as usual. Next stop was 30 hours to do some more packing and hop some more planes and end up here in Boston/Brookline.<br />
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As you can see, I've been fairly preoccupied. And I know this post was not funny or particularly interesting but I needed you to get caught up before I can get into the random occurrences.Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-80303208891780937002012-05-02T08:37:00.000-07:002012-05-02T08:37:04.131-07:00Character FlawsI think we are all on the same level here. I am a failure. So, I am no longer going to apologize for my lateness in blogs or long intervals of time between some of them. There really is no point. It's a major character flaw that is a permanent fixture in my life. I've accepted it.<br />
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Right this very second I am doing my all time favorite activity... procrastination. I have a huge paper due tomorrow and I just don't seem to want to do it. I <em>need</em> to do it. It's 25% of my grade, so yeah I need to do it but I don't <em>want </em>to. This is also a character flaw. I've been noticing more of them lately.<br />
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On the positive, I have several pages of this paper done. There is no page limit or recommendation for how many pages we should have so I suppose this really has nothing to do with the productivity of the actual paper. I still have the virulence factors, a case example, and a health fact sheet to do. In case you were wondering, this paper is about <em>Campylobacter jejuni </em>a sweet little bacterial food-borne pathogen that causes some not-so-sweet problems with your insides. <br />
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But holly hell, this thing has like 85,000 virulence factors (factors which make it toxic and make the infected person really wish they had cooked their food better and washed their hands) which means 85,000% more writing to do. I should have gone with a simpler one who simply produces a toxin and causes you too poo. But no, I had to be difficult with my 20ish citations and hating life on my last week of classes.<br />
<br />
I really cannot take this paper right now. I have 2 weeks exactly before I leave for Maryland, then Boston, then Michigan. Does the universe really want me to be doing papers and taking finals... NO. The universe wants me to eat amazing food, drink tons of wine/liquor, have good old fashioned sleepovers, watch movies, go look at beautiful houses, visit my old high school one last time, and of course see all of my friends. <br />
<br />
These are just some of the planned events I have coming up on my last 2 weeks. Obviously, there is no time for papers or finals. Or packing... I've decided I should really pay somebody to do this for me. Lets just graduate and be done with this nonsense. <br />
<br />
At least work is done! Bye bye sheepies, and cowsies, and all other farm animals that I had the distinct pleasure of working with for the past 4 years. But really, it was time for me to move on from smelling like a barn and instead get ready to freeze my behind off in cold Michigan winters. <br />
<br />
I am actually quite scared for this. I just watched The 5 Year Engagement on Monday and it was like my cold frozen life was flashing before my eyes (Emily Blunt ends up being a postdoc at the University of Michigan). <br />
<br />
Well, ladies and gents I hope you enjoyed these random paragraphs of my life's nonsense but now a cup of <em>very</em> strong New Orleans Chicory coffee is calling my name along with the end of the school year. I must fight my ongoing battle with procrastination!Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-58158978648752811842012-04-14T15:44:00.001-07:002012-04-14T15:47:46.776-07:00Easter Camping<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxMVxSP3p07KoFSS6uGRwlK0gI9UgiBEiebg6ud_6ceBijvT0j50JdXqJOh-ZNwDPeAGkWYXm9n_VVcgaw6ie2Kur5_b8hwVY6l2xINeZSQEulby8yAPxxR_ncnLZi0uwmj76Gz7RwZ8/s1600/DSCN0026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxMVxSP3p07KoFSS6uGRwlK0gI9UgiBEiebg6ud_6ceBijvT0j50JdXqJOh-ZNwDPeAGkWYXm9n_VVcgaw6ie2Kur5_b8hwVY6l2xINeZSQEulby8yAPxxR_ncnLZi0uwmj76Gz7RwZ8/s320/DSCN0026.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We are well packed for our camping trips!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A week ago today, I was sitting in the Gila National Forest on the most beautiful of days. No wind. Slightly cloudy skies. No homework. No people or noise or distractions. Just me, my dad, my mom and my two pups Emmy and Murphy.<br />
<br />
Fast forward one week... I am sitting in my room avoiding doing homework. It's a disgustingly nasty spring day. Winds up to 40ish mph. Dust blowing in through the windows. And too many noises and distractions around.<br />
<br />
Amazing how so much changes in a week. A week ago was Easter. As you know, I am not religious but we have been celebrating the traditions of Easter since I was a wee little girl and I love it. One of my <em>favorite</em> things is that we go camping on Easter.<br />
<br />
We are a camping family. And we do it well. <br />
<br />
We <em>can</em> sleep in tents... but we <em>don't </em>because we have a much more comfortable way to hide from the cold and the rain. When I was young we bought this pretty awesome pop-up tent camper thing from a family friend. It has seen us through many trips. Though, we spend a good 80% of our time camping outside, it is nice to not lay on an uneven rocky surface.<br />
<br />
I think we eat better camping then we do even at home. Everything made in the woods on a fire is just incredibly more tasty. Take a hot dog. A hot dog is pretty tasty at home on your grill... but in the woods it's like a 5 star meal that obviously had to have been made with the finest ingredients in all the land. It's kind of magical how the forest seems to have that power over you.<br />
<br />
Easter is more special in the forest. My parents used to hide the eggs filled with candy all around the forest and my sister and I would wake to freezing cold mornings to find the colored gifts scattered high in the trees. It's so much more rewarding that way.<br />
<br />
We had <em>freezing </em>years where the candy would literally freeze in the eggs. We had years where the droughts prohibited fires throughout the forest in an effort to prevent all the trees going up in a burning blaze. We had windy years where you couldn't sleep because you felt like you may just be lifted right out of your sleeping bag and thrown into the air.<br />
<br />
But this year was <em>perfect.</em> It was cool but not cold. It was breezy but not windy. It didn't rain. We had fires all weekend long. We played games, hiked, flew kites. It was <em>perfect.</em> Well, almost perfect. Almost perfect because this was the first year my sister wasn't there to spend it with us seeing as how she is in grad school in Pennsylvania. And almost perfect because it is more than likely the last Easter camping trip I will ever get to go on.<br />
<br />
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<br />
I'm starting to get a little sappy and a little nervous and a little bitter-sweet about everything. I have exactly 28 days until I graduate and 32 days until I leave New Mexico for good. Well, almost for good. I come back 1 day after a very short science related trip to Maryland, just so I can pack and fly out to Boston the next day. Then in August I am back for a total of 3.5 days so I can pack up my whole life in to my tiny new car and drive off to Michigan. <br />
<br />
It's all getting very real and I am not preparing for it at all. I'm one of those last minute packers/preparers and right now I am more concerned with the my food list. You know, the list of food I <em>have</em> to eat before I leave. Oh... the amount of green chili being consumed in 1 month is going to be a new record. I am sure of it. <br />
<br />
I hope you all had a wonderfully amazing Easter whether you're religious or not. Enjoy the moments... life never stays the same for long.Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-11589799771193563172012-04-03T14:32:00.000-07:002012-04-03T14:36:34.081-07:00The Mac AttackI am apparently way behind on the times. I think I should have lived in the 80s mainly because I think it would be fun... or the 20s because I think I would have been bomb at running a speakeasy, not to mention I would have loved to rock some of their fashion.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ673G7mcsDExYOplfHXfN_idzGy6MpUeRoMaVgPUwtO9BKmhfC2ZVC4s4SC-SvxTMkZd5ptYNPlMJY4bpjsRSdCJx5sXMKOCUGvZ0jy1BunoXk2Y8v19a0rScnWE_SEahY6r2_NwKxDc/s1600/mac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ673G7mcsDExYOplfHXfN_idzGy6MpUeRoMaVgPUwtO9BKmhfC2ZVC4s4SC-SvxTMkZd5ptYNPlMJY4bpjsRSdCJx5sXMKOCUGvZ0jy1BunoXk2Y8v19a0rScnWE_SEahY6r2_NwKxDc/s1600/mac.jpg" /></a>Oh yes, behind on the times... I don't know if you've noticed but Macintosh (aka Mac) has become surprisingly popular in the past couple of years. I imagine you must have heard of it... you probably own an iPod, iPad, iPhone, Mac Book... and who even knows what else they sell. But maybe you've heard somebody call an electronic device an Apple... <br />
<br />
Or maybe you're like me and ignore everything and choose to only listen to what you want. Which is why in this era of Apple-mania I only own 1product because it really is the only legitimate source of musical influence in my life (my iPod). It's a classic iPod... huge and white and a little scratched. And <i>full</i> of my music. Music is probably my favorite thing in the entire world next to movies and food. I love anything and everything with a good beat, good lyrics (or at least catchy lyrics), and rides whatever emotional wave I am currently on at the time.<br />
<br />
I listen to music when I drive anywhere, I listen walking between classes, I listen while doing homework or cleaning, I listen when I work out. I simply love to lie and listen to music. It is really quite an amazing thing and I couldn't imagine growing up in a country or culture that didn't allow music. It's tragic and even the thought of it is enough to break my heart.<br />
<br />
Anyway, that is the only reason I invested in <i>any </i>Mac product while I was in high school... and really, I didn't invest in one. I was given my sister's old hand-me-down as she went at bought whatever new version was out. Then, when my old one broke. Which was purely an accident. It had nothing to do with the fact that I dropped it on the asphalt a good 6 times and the screen was shattered beyond all recognition. Or that it was caught in my non-waterproof jacket in a rainstorm. Nope, those had nothing to do with it... for reasons that are beyond my comprehension, it broke. And I was forced to buy a new one.<br />
<br />
Around the same time, my sister bought a new touch iPod... and I was like why in the world do you want that fancy gadget? First off, it doesn't even hold as much music! What is the point of a musical device if it cannot hold <i>years</i> worth of music. It doesn't make sense to me. I don't need to play games or get on the internet... I really just <i>need</i> to be able to listen to lots and lots of music. Second, have you seen that very fragile touch screen... you must be joking. Me? I'd have that broken in 2 days max.<br />
<br />
I am very hard on my electronics... I'm actually just very hard on my life. I'm quite clumsy and often break things, including myself.<br />
<br />
So, I stayed behind on those times and refused to by any fragile mac product and ignored the rants and raves about the newest Mac product... and there is always something new... just give it a month. Though, I did fork out $400+ on my mom's iPad for her Christmas present which broke my wallet and my heart all at the same time.<br />
<br />
Then this fancy new thing called Instagram came out... I had no idea what it was except that it involved some sort of picture taking functions and that it was only available on the iPhone. That is when I immediately let it get lost in the place in my brain that holds pointless facts that I will never be able to use.<br />
<br />
Then today or yesterday... I'm not exactly sure on this time table... Instagram was released for the Android. That's right. Me and my old-fashioned Droid 2 Global can now get the Instagram application and see what all the fuss is about. Only problem... I really am out of date on the times and since I started writing this post a good while ago my Instagram download is only at 65%. And all I can think is <i>this probably didn't happen to people who have iPhones.</i><br />
<br />
All the while, my computer is flashing that my battery has gotten so bad that it can only hold a charge on its own for 2 hours max and I should probably think about getting it changed. And then I am informed that I should just by a new computer because really... this old gigantic 17 inch Toshiba laptop is just not cutting it anymore.<i> </i><br />
<br />
And now, I find myself sitting at the computer looking in to buying a Mac Book Pro... sometimes I miss the days of writing a report or doing my science poster by hand because we didn't have a computer.<br />
<br />
Then, I look at my hand-writing that closely resembles that of a two year old and think... all these years, Steve Jobs was only creating this product known as Apple to save the world from <i>trying </i>to read my chicken scratch or look at my horrible drawings. This makes me feel a little better about the impending Mac attack.<br />
<br />
Thanks for looking out for me Apple. Now all I need to do is find the cash in order to purchase this Mac Book Pro.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Also... my android phone decided to get the little hamsters rolling and installed Instagram. You can follow me @kaitnorm if you want. Though I don't have any photos yet... they will surely be coming soon!Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-22379024801049536712012-03-29T07:20:00.001-07:002012-03-29T07:23:03.613-07:00Changing In Your CarI recently... as in just this morning... was asked a strange question. Actually, the only thing strange about the question was that it was being asked at all. And then I realized maybe the fact that somebody had to ask me this question just meant that I was a little strange too. So, I know you're sitting there wondering... what was the question?<br />
<br />
<i>Did you just change in you car?</i><br />
<br />
In which I replied, with a sort of quizzical look on my face... <i>Yes. Doesn't everybody?</i><br />
<br />
No. Apparently people don't change in their cars. Which really is a new fact that I am stumbling upon. The guy friend who happened to ask this question saw me entering my car in jeans covered with sheep muck, an old t-shirt, and boots with my hair in a high messy bun.<br />
<br />
Less than 5 minutes later he saw me getting out of my parked car in a different parking lot wearing jeans, knock off Sperry's, a blue wrap t-shirt, and my hair in a side twist.<br />
<br />
At this fact he just simply laughed at me, said I was always a strange one, and explained that my life is really too hectic if I have to change in my car and then he proceeded to buy me a coffee. <br />
<br />
I never really thought about how changing in your car might be considered strange. I mean, when your day consists of waking with a 2.5 hour horse riding class, then several hours of normal class, then off to the gym, then meetings that required dress attire, then hours of studying in the library... all within the same day. Every single one of these events calls for a different outfit. It's not like I can just show up as President of the Panhellenic Council in jeans, a t-shirt, and cowboy boots. Or show up for my riding lessons or work with the sheep in a dress and heels. This is not acceptable. So the only obvious choice was to just change in your car in the middle of events because I was not about to carry a duffel bag full of clothes all across campus.<br />
<br />
This is how my car (poor old Coop) got turned into one gigantic closet. At all times I had a dress, t-shirt, jeans, nice shirt, dress pants, work out clothes, pajamas, sweatshirt, heels, flats, flip-flops, tennis shoes, and cowboy boots in case the occasion called for any of the above. And trust me... I went in to my stash of extra clothes several times every week.<br />
<br />
There were times in college where I didn't even have time to go home
and shower so I would just stop off at a friends house close to campus
and jump in their shower really quickly. It is quite convenient to have
extra clothes always at hand.<br />
<br />
<br />
Plus, if anybody needed an extra shirt or a jacket or heels to wear to an event, I always had them covered. I'm pretty positive my car also had a first aid kit, several board games, pom poms (which was strange because I was never a cheerleader), an emergency car kit that I didn't know how to use, my dad's wrench that he thought he lost for 2 years, 87 dollars in change, a research poster, AA and AAA batteries, a flashlight, 5 novels, 3 textbooks, and countless other things that I couldn't even begin to explain. <br />
<br />
But now Coop has gone far away and I am driving my sisters old car to school because I am not about to have my new car smelling like a barn and I am also not going to leave it in the ghetto free parking lots where Coop was often broken in to.<br />
<br />
Now that Coop has gone to live in his fancy junk yard and my days have grown less crazy, I find I don't have a closet in my car anymore. I also find that because of this I can't actually fit all of my clothes in my room closet anymore. <br />
<br />
<br />
Who knew after five years of a crazy hectic life I'd actually be sad about trading in the days of living in my car...Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-12890937557574063542012-03-27T09:10:00.000-07:002012-03-27T09:11:34.750-07:00The Invisible DegreeSometimes I wonder about the actual capabilities of people in the academic offices. Throughout the years, I have had so many problems with them... people in charge of registration, people in charge of finances, people in charge of the running of this university. It is really quite frustrating at times. I really think it comes down to a lack of training and a <i>huge</i> communication error.<br />
<br />
Take this instance for example which is currently an ongoing frustration of mine.<br />
<br />
As you know, I am graduating in T-minus 46 days. I will be graduating with a Degree of Bachelor of Science in Agriculture majoring in Animal Science, a Degree of Bachelor of Science majoring in Biology, and a Degree of Bachelor of Science majoring in Microbiology.<br />
<br />
I applied to have these degrees added to my transcript and for the past 3ish years they have been on every piece of mail I have sent to other schools. When I officially applied for my diplomas, I had to pay for 3 separate ones... a total of $75 and everything in life was looking good. All I need to do is pass the 4 classes I am currently taking that actually matter for my degrees, which is quite easy. <br />
<br />
And yet, I find myself reading an e-mail congratulating me on my <i>two</i> degrees and these are the ones that will show up on the graduation program and the only <i>two</i> diplomas I will receive. No, these are not the only 2 degrees I will get. I would not have stayed an extra year to get the 2 degrees I finished last year... no thanks. I think I will take the 3 I paid for, the 3 I studied for, the 3 I took all the required classes and then some for.<br />
<br />
In an effort to figure out who screwed up, I contact the advising department of my college... in which they believe they accidentally <i>lost</i> my degree. I'm so sorry... you WHAT?<br />
<br />
Lets just back up for a minute here lady. I'm actually <i>positive</i> you didn't lose my degree. Why? Because I have the receipt for the 3 I purchased. Not to mention this transcript. You see this official piece of shiny paper with the school seal on it and everything... which I just got today. Which your office printed. Which has all 3 of my degrees. See... even your office says that I have them.<br />
<br />
In which she replies, "Well, this information doesn't say that."<br />
<br />
Are these official school transcripts that I am holding in my hand invisible to you!? I mean really, did they just change in to harry potter and they can get around with a cloak of invisibility hiding from only your eyes seeing as how everybody else knows what the heck is going on? Honestly, that is the <i>only </i>explanation I have for this here.That or your complete lack of competence. <br />
<br />
I really don't want to be rude. And I am trying really <i>really</i> hard not to be, but this isn't just a small problem. This is something I have been working five years for. FIVE YEARS. And I am not going to let it get thrown all away because you are... for a lack of better words... completely incapable of doing your job correctly. <br />
<br />
If this doesn't get fixed very soon, sparks will fly. And I'm actually pretty good at making sparks if I really want to.<br />
<br />
In conclusion... get it together people. Get it together. <br />
<br />
<br />Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-49627034891523350832012-03-23T08:15:00.002-07:002012-03-23T08:47:14.061-07:00The AnorakNow that you and the rest of my family/friends/world knows I am officially leaving this fall for Michigan, the number one thing I have been told was to buy a parka. And buy a parka now while they are marked down for spring and summer.<br />
<br />
At first, I just laughed and thought yep it is definitely going to be cold and I should look in to something warm to wear. I have 2 pea coats (more like raincoat) type of jackets that I really just bought because they are super cute. Then I have 1 wool coat. A wool coat I bought about 4 years ago... it's missing a button and the black has faded in to a more of a dark grey. And that is the extent of my coat collection. <br />
<br />
You just don't need coats in Cruces. A good sweatshirt is all you ever really need. Or a nice sweater. 11 months out of the year you never need a coat and for that 1 month that you <em>may </em>need one<em>, </em>people just don't go outside. <br />
<br />
Just a couple of stats for you:<br />
<ul>
<li>Rain</li>
<ul>
<li>Cruces: we're <em>lucky</em> if we get .25 inches a month</li>
<li>Ann Arbor: rains an average of 3 inches every month</li>
</ul>
<li>High Temp</li>
<ul>
<li>Cruces: It's March and we have already reached highs over 80 degrees and summers bring days with 95-110ish degrees </li>
<li>Ann Arbor: Highs are generally around 80-90 max with a record high of 105 in <em>1934</em>. Only 3 months out of the year Ann Arbor has EVER reached over 100 degrees and it <em>rarely</em> gets over 90. </li>
</ul>
<li>Low Temp</li>
<ul>
<li>Hardly ever do we see temperatures under freezing. And if we do, it is in the middle of the night but never during the day.</li>
<li>About 4 months out of the year the average daily temperature is below freezing.</li>
</ul>
</ul>
So... in summary... I am going to drown from all the rain and then freeze to the sidewalk. It is pretty much my decided fate in Ann Arbor.<br />
<br />
In order to try my best to fight my destiny, though I think it may be hopeless, I decided I <em>need</em> to invest in coats... not only coats but parkas.<br />
<br />
That is when I found myself in the mall looking in a department store in the coat section with a very concerned expression on my face. I looked through the meager 2 racks they had provided for me. And I found myself thinking... what in the world <em>is</em> a parka!?<br />
<br />
No really... I don't have the slightest idea of what makes a coat a parka. I don't think I have ever even <em>seen</em> a parka. And that is when I knew for sure... I am indeed going to die in Ann Arbor. <br />
<br />
I decided to do a parka google search. My good friend Wikipedia told me that a parka was originally called an anorak and made by the Eskimos. They are often fur/fake fur lined in order to keep you warmer and were originally made from caribou or seal.<br />
<br />
Most importantly they are often ugly. Now it comes down to functionality and fashion. Do I really want to survive or do I want to look cute? Duh... I'm into surviving and being warm. <br />
<br />
And there go all of my chances of finding a good boy in Ann Arbor. Damn parkas. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTrHM_j6OBT3vq9e-D9R2CNervhccUVpqk3LDaIYXQzNqyLyfJ8" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="rg_hi" data-height="216" data-width="233" height="216" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTrHM_j6OBT3vq9e-D9R2CNervhccUVpqk3LDaIYXQzNqyLyfJ8" style="height: 216px; width: 233px;" width="233" /></a><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="225" data-width="225" height="225" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSfSWBo_0-GJOJME9R0X2Hy_HCjANIWQMirxkpn6FREuV5R1dfA" style="height: 225px; width: 225px;" width="225" /><br />
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I was just informed that my "pea coats" are actually trench coats... and my wool coat is a pea coat. </div>
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Not only do I <em>not </em>know what a parka is... I apparently don't even know what a coat is. </div>Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-32816456331930908322012-03-18T17:09:00.002-07:002012-03-18T17:12:02.080-07:00CautionToday is a lazy day. It's a lazy day for several reasons. The most important reason is that it is spring break!! Not like this really matters because I work all week but today is my one day off. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.transterrestrial.com/wordpress/images/dust_storms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" id="il_fi" src="http://www.transterrestrial.com/wordpress/images/dust_storms.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An actual sign in LC<br />
Taken by: transterrestrial.com</td></tr>
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Two, we are experiencing the Dust Bowl 2.0 here. If you've never been to Las Cruces in the spring... don't. Stay as far away as you possibly can. The weather is unbelievably disgusting. It amazes me when I see wind advisories on the weather channel for other cities. People are in an uproar when it goes over 20 mph. Springs in LC brings horribly uncomfortable wind. And since LC is a desert town... lots and lots of sand/dirt/grit blows everywhere. <br />
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Spring is the season you pack up your dust rags until summer comes because if you actually tried to keep up with the dust you would be dusting every day... multiple times a day. Right now, we're sitting at a mere 40 mph and I cannot see down my street because it is that dusty.<br />
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A year ago I had a horse training class 3 hours a day, 3 times a week... during spring. After class I would take off my sunglasses and literally have dirt caked on my face so badly that the skin where my sunglasses were covering was at least 3 shades lighter than the rest of my face. Needless to say, I take a lot of showers in the spring and my hair is virtually always in a ponytail because anything else is just not a feasible option. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbAHVIf-PWNZ4kzFgKBIRUzBJFr6O5P5sSX1NtnNqJ8wGZax1-vI03ZrhpcymDPctFIpdbuLXLLUlpoO6YyFewBZraokQz9Xl8C_9Xudp4jszYTRrB80v3pEZuGE52Dm4KCvY5tQK_J_M/s1600/new+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbAHVIf-PWNZ4kzFgKBIRUzBJFr6O5P5sSX1NtnNqJ8wGZax1-vI03ZrhpcymDPctFIpdbuLXLLUlpoO6YyFewBZraokQz9Xl8C_9Xudp4jszYTRrB80v3pEZuGE52Dm4KCvY5tQK_J_M/s320/new+car.jpg" width="320" /></a>Reason number three for being lazy. I bought a car yesterday!! My very own, brand new 2012 Nissan Versa Hatchback. I am a proud car owner!! Get real if you think I'm taking my beautiful new baby out in this dust. Please. I wouldn't even pick up pizza for dinner last night in my new car. <br />
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Not to mention, car buying takes a lot out of you. It is exhausting! We drove all the way to El Paso (45ish minute drive) looked at 4 different lots at a total of 4 different types of cars and decided we had a good idea of what we were getting in to.<br />
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On our way back to Cruces, it was decided we would just stop at 1 more place in town to compare dealership prices. I wasn't going to buy anything until May but I just wanted to get an idea. And there it was... my car! A slick magnetic grey with power locks and everything! I have never in my life owned a car with power locks and windows. It was really a treat. Not to mention the fact that it has an air conditioner, excellent brakes, 4 doors, a ridiculous amount of airbags, a fully working gas gauge and odometer, traction control and 85,000 other bells and whistles... all of which my previous ghetto car (fondly known as <a href="http://abnormalee.blogspot.com/2011/11/towing-of-coup.html" target="_blank">Coup</a>) did not have. <br />
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It really isn't <em>that</em> fancy of a car. No blue tooth, no button unlock on the key, no crazy additions. But I'm a simple person and this car is perfect for me. There is so much leg room my over 6 foot family friend can sit comfortably in the back and front with room to spare. There is so much cargo space that I think I just may be able to fit all of my necessities on my trip up to Michigan. And it gets 33 miles to the gallon.<br />
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I was surprised to hear that people don't actually like hatchbacks. I don't understand this. They have much more cargo space than a sedan (though the versa sedan was pretty nice) and they have a whole lot of leg room. So, even though hatchbacks have some of the highest safety ratings and some of the best features, people like the more traditional trunk of a car. Which means I get a better deal on mine :) So thanks people for spending more money on your sedans which offer less space and allowing me to buy my car for less! Your sacrifices are greatly appreciated. <br />
<br />Besides, it is a great feeling to know that at 21 years old I own a car. Me... owning my very own brand new car. It's crazy. Well, I don't <em>technically</em> own my car. I mean, I signed my life away yesterday but I don't actually own anything. That is a lie. I do own something a car payment every month for the next 6 years. But still, it's a step.<br />
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They also took Coup away for me. They gave me $800 for that poor little fella. Which, I think I got the better end of that deal. I'm positive that if I had driven Coup to Michigan we would have blown up half way through Texas. I hope they take him to a nice scrap yard and salvage him for some usable parts... if he has any.<br />
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Now all I have to do is name him/her. I feel every car deserves a name. They have personalities just like people and pets except... well, they're inanimate objects. I was told this is a quirk of mine... which translates to: I am weird.<br />
<br />But I am guessing you already knew that. <br />
Later folks. Time to continue on being lazy and attempting to stay dirt free. Stay clean my friends!Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2999433843109780735.post-81884973532151706742012-03-16T10:40:00.000-07:002012-03-16T10:43:27.732-07:00City of TreesYes I know, you keep getting the same excuses from me as of late but I cannot help it. I am a mess. Really, I am a mess. I am in such an utter state of disrepair that I spent 15 minutes looking for a pair of pants yesterday. A pair of pants that I had swore I hadn't seen in over a month. A pair of pants, it turns out, I was currently wearing. But, I am getting much better... I think. I was super sick for about a week and now that that is done and I'm starting to get a grip on my life for the coming several months. Regular blogging is at the top of my list. Promise! For real this time.<br />
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Official updates:<br />
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<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I am going to the University of Michigan come fall!! I am so incredibly excited. I think I knew the second I had my recruitment weekend up there that it was the school for me. I guess I have to get used to some cold and some snow... and apparently tornadoes like the one that hit them yesterday. It's going to be a lot of adjusting. But, I am going to be a wolverine. Which means, decent football!!! Not the crappy stuff we get thrown with down here. (Some of these pics are a little blurry because I felt like my fingers were going to fall off in the 15 degree weather!)</li>
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<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I signed a lease for my housing this fall. I was originally going to get a place by myself. Then, I realized how expensive life is and how absolutely poor I am. My mother also felt the need to remind me that I will be getting paid <em>below</em> the poverty line next year. Awesome. Hello ramon noodles! Not to mention the fact that I need to buy a new car. So, after craigslisting for several weeks I found it! The cutest little house (okay not so little)! I'm actually going to have 7 roommates. SEVEN! It sounds a little insane but I am so excited. It's an instant basis of people I get to know and way better than moving to a town where I literally do not know a soul. To top it off, the days of skype have allowed me to even meet some of my roommates. It's going to be a good year. I can tell. </li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqohyphenhyphenNvlABZYtmZgGK-Mlve7ljIgL_Wz2RFio1FU1MHJZlE_XZUTnPeStzGFb2NbyALZOQ4X4uaGqAGenzvRHPXdSUYV8DAlJBm5351Asrz7hsHjhoDNsqVj9OxO9aH0pTFLFr71wj8I/s1600/house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img aea="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqohyphenhyphenNvlABZYtmZgGK-Mlve7ljIgL_Wz2RFio1FU1MHJZlE_XZUTnPeStzGFb2NbyALZOQ4X4uaGqAGenzvRHPXdSUYV8DAlJBm5351Asrz7hsHjhoDNsqVj9OxO9aH0pTFLFr71wj8I/s1600/house.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks little from the front but this baby has 8 good sized bedrooms, 2 kitchens, 4 baths and is a deep house rather than wide.</td></tr>
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<li><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
I signed my lease for the summer too. I am living in this apartment with 2 other people down in a great part of Boston. Just a couple of T stops from work. It's amazing, this 3 bedroom apartment costs as much as the 5 bedroom section of my house in Ann Arbor is going to cost (my house is actually a duplex but we're renting as a whole. One section is 3 bedrooms. One section is 5 bedrooms). Boston is ridiculously expensive... and I think if I had decided to go to school there I would have had to sell a kidney.</div>
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<li style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I am car shopping tomorrow!! I am not actually going to buy until probably early May but I am going to go around and look. I need a nice reliable car. If, I was to take mine it would blow up half way through Texas. Literally, blow up. Personally, I like the Honda Fit best. What do you think?</li>
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<img alt="Exterior Photo of 2012 Honda Fit" height="199" id="GalleryMainImageObject" src="http://automobiles.honda.com/images/2012/fit/exterior-gallery/gal_lg2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Exterior Photo of 2012 Honda Fit" width="320" /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">2012 Honda Fit</td></tr>
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<img height="161" id="il_fi" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQNamhr6vf17PgdlAF4JGmDeTHvVEIoXBHfoDbh1ZdxEq8ZvuCoDVPHB19T" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="312" /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2012 Nissan Versa Hatchback</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi" data-height="183" data-width="275" height="183" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQi-p22tNmkMcPa63MikdRmgA-lXMzNO_0HGWAXk2mU0fLeM6b7" style="height: 183px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 275px;" width="275" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2012 Kia Soul</td></tr>
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<li>Spring Break officially starts for us tonight after I get done with wine class. Not that it really matters... at all actually. I still have to be up before the sun every day except Sundays. I have to say losing those creatures is going to be the best day of my life!</li>
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</div>Normanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225189310262165562noreply@blogger.com0