tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89889796302748079272024-02-19T23:30:59.585-08:00Baseball Wifestories from the benchAWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.comBlogger164125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-20702735253980202472015-10-16T07:41:00.000-07:002015-10-16T09:02:07.914-07:00Flex Friday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;">
It's Flex Friday!</div>
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And by "flex," I mean that I'm on call for work, not "flexing," as in showing off my fantastic arm muscles.</div>
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Which aren't actually so fantastic, since I just started back with CrossFit after a two-year hiatus.</div>
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It hurts to walk.</div>
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Anyway, since I'm on call, just sitting around waiting, I figured it would be a good time to update the blog so you all don't think Mississippi swallowed me whole and spit me out into Deliverance country.</div>
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Plus, if work today is anything like work yesterday, I should be getting called in at any second. Bananas!</div>
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I realize that I haven't really posted anything about our move to Mississippi other than talking about Matt's new position as a high school AD. If you follow me on facebook you've seen all the pictures (ad nauseum, I know) of our house, so I won't post any more on here.</div>
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Plus, random Internet stalkers. 'Nough said.</div>
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I have had the best two weeks ever! </div>
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First, Mom and dad were just here for several days and we had a fantastic time. I haven't seen them since February, so we were able to catch up on everything and show them the area...they've never been to the Gulf Coast.</div>
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I think their exact words to my husband were "Where do you keep dragging our daughter??"</div>
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They were pleasantly surprised. We're actually closer to the water here than when we lived in Florida...about 0.5 miles vs three miles...haha!</div>
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When I got home from work on Sunday, they were here!! </div>
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This pretty much sums up our visit: </div>
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We're so weird. But honestly, Slap Ya Momma's has some pretty decent BBQ, and it was fun for them to eat outside, facing the Gulf, in October. </div>
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This is actually my favorite picture...together again watching our Cardinals!</div>
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It was fun trying to get everyone in for a selfie. Good times. </div>
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I cannot even begin to explain how good it was to see mom and dad. I was very sad driving home from work yesterday and not seeing their car in the driveway anymore, but I found sweet little notes and gifts on the counter from my momma, and that made me smile. </div>
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Even though I'm almost 35, I still need my parents! </div>
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The week before my parent's visit, I got to see my very best friend! Sarah and I haven't seen each other since her wedding, for crying out loud. YEARS!!! We had a little meet-up in New Orleans, roughly an hour drive for me. </div>
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We may or may not have had a massive crying/hugging/laughing/jumping-up-and-down session on the sidewalk in the middle of the city. </div>
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Her husband was graciously silent and let us get it all out while we caused a scene. But it's New Orleans, so we kind of fit right in. </div>
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And of course, when showing friends around the city, and you grow up in a funeral home and things like this are ingrained in your blood, you just have to do a cemetery tour! We chose Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 as our destination, primarily because it's in the Garden District and we wanted to find Peyton Manning's house. </div>
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Correction: <em>I</em> wanted to find Peyton Manning's house. And maybe stay there. Forever. </div>
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Hi. My name is Addie Walters and I have a slight addiction. </div>
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Anyway, you can really only get into the old city cemeteries by tour anymore, due to the Archdiocese setting hours and limits because of stupid, idiotic people vandalizing the property. </div>
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We went through the group <a href="http://www.saveourcemeteries.org/" target="_blank">Save Our Cemeteries</a>, one of the only non-profit tour groups in the city that serves to preserve and protect the historic cemeteries of New Orleans. We felt our $15 tickets were going to a great cause. </div>
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<em>Save Our Cemeteries began in 1974 in response to a the potential destruction of the wall vaults of St. Louis Cemetery No. 2. Today, the non-profit organization is dedicated to the preservation of the 31 historic cemeteries of New Orleans. Save Our Cemeteries offers regular cemetery tours, lectures and programming for members and the general public, and does restoration of abandoned tombs.</em></div>
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It was an excellent tour. If you ever have a chance to go, try to get Michael as your guide. He was fantastic! The tour was absolutely full of interesting bits of history and local lore. </div>
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We started out at the marker for "My Pretty Betty." If you look close, it's the marker for a young child. Kind of a melancholy way to start the tour, but hey. It's a cemetery. What did we expect? </div>
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How about this one? City fire departments would buy entire tombs for their men. The detail of the relief carved into the top is amazing. </div>
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When I die, please put pearls on my grave! </div>
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This one has a great story. This is known as the "Secret Garden," and entombs four friends who grew up together and started a secret society in New Orleans. Rumor has it that they went around and did secret good deeds, kept records and keys and codes, and upon their death required their heirs to burn all their paperwork and make it seem like they've never existed. </div>
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This empty spot was used in the movie Double Jeopardy with Ashley Judd. Remember the tomb she was locked in and broke out of? This is where they built it. Pretty cool. </div>
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Hauntingly beautiful. </div>
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If you're in any way familiar with Anne Rice, Lafayette Cemetery is where she buried her characters, namely the Vampire Lestat from the Vampire Chronicles (Interview with the Vampire, if you've seen the movie but not read the books) as well as the Mayfair Witches. They're all here. Well, fictionally, anyway. </div>
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Funny story...before the tour we went inside a little corner mall to use the bathroom, and of course, Sarah and I were immediately drawn to a little tiny bookstore right inside the front door. During the tour, Michael told us that that bookstore is the personal favorite of Anne Rice - that's where she holds all of her book signings! </div>
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So of course we had to go back and take pictures, acting like the starstruck tourists that we were. </div>
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<a href="http://www.gardendistrictbookshop.com/" target="_blank">The Garden District Bookshop</a>: </div>
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This book title made me laugh so hard. And now I want to read it. </div>
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I think we could have stayed in there for hours, but after a 2 hour cemetery tour and becoming faint from the smell of new books, we decided it was time for lunch.</div>
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The <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/milk-bar-new-orleans-2" target="_blank">Milk Bar</a>! </div>
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Such a fun little hole-in-the-wall place right by one of the city hospitals. It was packed with medical-type people grabbing lunch on the run...it made me happy to be out of scrubs for the day to play Happy Tourist. </div>
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I had a delicious little ham, cheese and tomato sandwich on a toasted croissant. We were tempted by all the shake choices, but wanted to save room for - what else? - beignets at Café duMonde in the French Quarter. Plus a trip to Whole Foods, since Mississippi doesn't believe in the power of organic, snooty hipster groceries yet. </div>
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Best part? I now know my way fairly well around NOLA. And we didn't get mugged. Or hit up for dollars by scam people on the sidewalks. </div>
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I wish I could have taken my parents on the cemetery tour when they were here, but we got so busy seeing the Mississippi Gulf Coast and our new neighborhood that we ran out of time. Plus, with dad coming off both a knee surgery <em>and</em> a back surgery, probably not the best idea right now.</div>
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However, Dad <em>did</em> ask if we could stop at all the local funeral homes and fire departments so he could trade stories and t-shirts. </div>
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Mom and I said a big old fatty <em>NO</em>. </div>
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Plus, he had wayyyyy too much fun relaxing (read: napping) on the back deck while mom and I shopped. This is officially Jim Eaton's Relaxation Spot. </div>
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<em>Today I love:</em> Open windows, pumpkin coffee and snuggling with the pups while we watch Parks and Rec reruns until my phone rings to come into work. </div>
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AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-28030272339095035272015-08-31T18:59:00.004-07:002015-08-31T18:59:51.218-07:00Life as an AD's WifeSo I guess we're going with this post-every-two-months theme, and now I'm cutting it close on the last day of August. <br />
<br />
So. <br />
<br />
We're officially moved.<br />
<br />
House is done, boxes are unpacked, new jobs started. <br />
<br />
I know, the same old song and dance I usually post about this time of year, on a rolling three-to-five year schedule. <br />
<br />
You know what's amazing? <br />
<br />
When we lived up in Hattiesburg three years ago (after Missouri, before Florida, sheesh!) we would drive down to the Mississippi coast and daydream about how fabulous it would be to live in this little cute town called Ocean Springs. <br />
<br />
Well. Be careful what you pray for, cause look out OS, here we are! <br />
<br />
The poor lady at the DMV, after looking at all the states I've held a driver's license, started to thank me for my husband's service to our country. <br />
<br />
Seriously. Whenever people hear all the places we've lived, they either think 1) Military or 2) On the run from the law. <br />
<br />
I always have to go into an hour long diatribe about how Matt was a high school baseball coach, but baseball isn't what it used to be (thanks, travel ball!) and now he's an athletic director and now we're lugging a piano halfway across the country and I can't find my towels and the dogs are carsick. <br />
<br />
I <em>refuse</em> to move again. <br />
<br />
Unless there are mountains involved. And snow. And Alaska. <br />
<br />
Anyway, we're here. It feels kind of like we never left Mississippi. I picked up my "Yes Sir" and "Yes Ma'm" and "Y'all come back now, you hear??" like I never stopped saying it, cause in Florida they give you looks for doing that. <br />
<br />
One thing that's fantastic is that we're so much closer to family now, and we've already had visitors. When you live in Florida, everyone <em>says</em> they're going to come visit you and the beach and have a great time, but it never happens, because your husband moved you basically to the outskirts of Miami and it takes a year and a half of planning for anyone to make it down that far into the state. <br />
<br />
And Miami is scary. <br />
<br />
Ok, I'm exaggerating. We weren't that far. But Miami <em>is</em> scary. <br />
<br />
Give me my little house on the marsh. Quiet and private after crazy-busy 12 hour shifts or ball games. Just me, my husband and dogs, and the rapidly-multiplying family of nutria on the banks right out our backyard. <br />
<br />
Oh, and the ball games? So....did you know that Athletic Directors go to WAY more games than coaches do? Remember my "I'm a sports widow, woe is me" posts during baseball season? <br />
<br />
Please. Child's play. I had no <em>clue</em>. <br />
<br />
But you know what? This is the absolute happiest I've ever seen him. He's right in his element, telling other people what to do, cause Lord knows he can't pull that with me.<br />
<br />
Just kidding. <br />
<br />
But not really.<br />
<br />
Honestly, he's awesome. He's fair, he's honest, he loves the idea of running a very successful athletic program, and he's more OCD than I am. The man's a walking spreadsheet of budgets and statistics. He's in his element, and I'm so proud of him. <br />
<br />
And I have to say it's a LOT less stressful sitting in the stands at a game as the Athletic Director's wife than it was as the coach's wife. <em>A lot.</em> Plus he'll smile and talk to me. Bonus. <br />
<br />
Here's to a great start in Mississippi! <br />
<br />
<em>Today I love: </em>Lots of coffee after a rough three shifts at work. Coffee with more coffee. And a side of coffee. <br />
<br />
<br />
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AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-62891533540030184202015-06-09T12:25:00.000-07:002015-06-09T12:25:35.888-07:00An Open Letter to My In-Laws Regarding the Care of My DogsOk. <br />
<br />I KNOW I make fun of my sister for writing out seventeen pages of notes for me whenever I take care of the girls, and now here I am doing it for our dogs. <br />
<br />
DOGS, people. DOGS. <br />
<br />
My sweet, somewhat gluttons-for-punishment in-laws have volunteered to keep Suka, Knuke and Kaia for the next two to three weeks while we transition from Florida to Mississippi. <br />
<br />
I know they'll do a great job, they really love their Grandpuppies, but I'm still that Paranoid Crazy Dog Mom Lady. <br />
<br />
Seriously, you might want to pass on the other side of the street if you see me. <br />
<br />
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<br />
Dear Mom and Dad W: <br />
<br />
Matt thinks I'm insane, and has told me so on a daily basis, so I ask that you guys just humor me. I know they're just dogs, but they're dogs that have feelings and emotions and are basically human.<br />
<br />
So here it is. The Daily Schedule. It's pretty intense with snuggling and belly rubs and specialty treats made out of buffalo and sweet potatoes, but I have all the faith that you can do this. <br />
<br />
6:00ish AM - Outside for potty. They usually just tinkle then come back in to fall back asleep. Kaia may or may not start howling for breakfast. Just tell her to chill and she'll calm down. <br />
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Actually, she won't. She just increases in volume and frequency. <br />
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You can actually set your clocks by her pre-meal songs. Daylight Savings threw her off her game for a little bit, but she figured it out and is now bigger and louder than ever. <br />
<br />
Enjoy! <br />
<br />
Between 7:00 - 8:00 am - Breakfast. Suka gets the blue bowl, Knuke has the green slow-down bowl and Kaia's is the pink slow-down bowl. The huskies each get one scoop and Knuke gets a scoop and a half. They need to be fed in separate corners because none of them know how to eat within the same vicinity of each other without growling and trying to show who's boss. <br />
<br />
It's Kaia, BTW. The boys are scared to death of her. <br />
<br />
Suka may not eat, but that's normal. He's a snacker while the others are scarfers. <br />
<br />
After breakfast, outside again for morning poops. <br />
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Then I usually leave for work, and they have free reign of everything in the house. I think they mostly sleep, but the toy basket is available just in case. <br />
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<br />
***I know at this point (actually way before this point), I'm sounding like a ridiculously crazy dog lady. I'm sorry. So very, very sorry. There's actually more. I'm so sorry.***<br />
<br />
After work, afternoonish, whatever - outside for potty, play, etc. The only thing I'm worried about is Suka trying to dig under your fence...I know this also sounds OCD/paranoid/overprotective, but huskies are known escape artists and can't ever be left alone or off leash unless they're inside a physical structure. <br />
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And even then it's a crapshoot. Suka is sneaky. This is the boy who can open all the bedroom doors by himself - I can't decide if I'm proud or horrified. <br />
<br />
Dinner is around 6, same setup as breakfast. After dinner, outside for potty. <br />
<br />
Before and after dinner, they're used to some pretty intense snuggling and ear rubs. Knuke likes to be on the couch with his head in my lap while we watch TV or read...until Suka freaks out and makes Knuke move over so he can take his place. Kaia just likes to wander around with her bear in her mouth. Or her sockball. Or both. <br />
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<br />
She's special. <br />
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<br />
Last potty is right before bedtime, around 9-10pm. <br />
<br />
Bedtime- Knuke preferably likes to sleep between your legs with his head on your butt all. night. long, so then you wake up in a dripping sweat, unable to move any lower-body muscles. It's awesome. <br />
<br />
Also, can you continually talk to them and tell them I haven't abandoned them and that I love and miss them? And text me pictures of them every five minutes?<br />
<br />
Thanksomuch. <br />
<br />
Imnotcrazy.<br />
<br />
PS: We'll pay for any damages, physical and/or mental. AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-63753157593686891322015-05-20T10:28:00.000-07:002015-05-20T15:01:41.818-07:00Movin' On UpThe past two years have been INSANE. <br />
<br />
Do you know what it's like being married to an obsessive-compulsive high school varsity baseball coach who is also working on his Master's degree in Athletic Administration? <br />
<br />
I do. <br />
<br />
For two straight years, ooooooohhhhhhhh, I do. <br />
<br />
It honestly hasn't been that bad. Over the past two years, I've snuck in a lot of solo shopping trips, kayak trips, added a dog to the family, redecorated a guest room and our office, read some really good books...all while he was writing papers and doing research and working on his thesis. <br />
<br />
It's not my fault if he didn't notice my multiple trips to IKEA. <br />
<br />
Not. My. Fault, Matt Walters. None whatsoever. <br />
<br />
Poor guy, I know he's been so worn out from not only teaching and coaching and lesson plans (autocorrect wants to spell it lesion plans, which I know he would agree with) - he's been spending every. single. weekend and evening when there were no games (no joke!!!) dedicated to his degree. <br />
<br />
I got to listen to him say things like "Oh man, I got a 3.9999999 GPA in that class, dang it!!" and "What day is it? What time is it? I have seventeen papers due by Sunday at midnight!!" <br />
<br />
It was super-fun. <br />
<br />
But now it's over, and he's graduated. <br />
<br />
He's officially an Athletic Director. <br />
<br />
For real. <br />
<br />
Like, FOR REAL. <br />
<br />
He had his first interview for an AD position and absolutely NAILED IT. <br />
<br />
As in, GOT THE JOB, hands-down.<br />
<br />
My husband is a real life Athletic Director!<br />
Which he tells me means he'll now be home even less. <br />
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And I don't think there's an IKEA close to where our new home is. There is a Target, however. I checked in on that right away.<br />
<br />
Our news is all around town now anyway, especially since our house hit the market yesterday, people at both our places of work know, and Vero is remarkably small-townish. Word travels like nothing else here. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/1063-4th-Ln-SW_Vero-Beach_FL_32962_M62764-69570" target="_blank">So who wants to buy our house in the next few weeks?</a><br />
<br />
We would appreciate it. <br />
<br />
So where are we going? <br />
<br />
We're headed back to Mississippi, this time to the Gulf Coast. Matt is the new AD for Vancleave HS, and we're looking at property in the Ocean Springs/Biloxi area. <br />
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<br />
Actually, looked at. Past tense. New house already picked and under contract (more on that later). <br />
<br />
I'm sad to be leaving such a fabulous community, fantastic friends and a wonderful job, but we're also reallllllllllllllllly excited to get back to the South (Florida is NOT the South) and closer to family. <br />
<br />
Here we come, y'all!!! <br />
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AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-50094376239849875092015-04-23T19:07:00.002-07:002015-04-23T19:07:40.558-07:00A Lot of Stuff My<a href="http://confessionsfromthebench.blogspot.com/2015/02/it-4am-and-i-must-need-coffee.html" target="_blank"> <strong>last post</strong></a> was on February 14 - Valentine's Day. <br />
<br />
I was spending an extended weekend with my family, primarily doing overnights with my Grandpa during his journey through the last stages of his cancer. <br />
<br />
Would not have traded that time for <em>anything</em> in the world. It was hard, watching him so frail and sick, but it was sweet and precious all at the same time. A lot of hand-holding, some tears. Ok, a lot of tears. <br />
<br />
When I was getting ready to leave his house to fly back to Florida and Grandpa grabbed my hand and said "I'll probably never see you again, will I?" I completely lost it and had a sobbing fit in his living room. <br />
<br />
Me, the granddaughter who is a Hospice RN and deals with this multiple times a day, had to be comforted by his Hospice nurse - who slipped a sweet, sweet note in my pocket for me to read on the plane. <br />
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<br />
I didn't update at the time, but many of you know that <a href="http://eatonfuneralhome.com/ObituaryView.aspx?xid=52665&oid=1284" target="_blank"><strong>he passed away less than two weeks later</strong></a>. <br />
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<br />
Today marks exactly two months.<br />
<br />
I've honestly been in a little two month slump. No motivation, a lot of sadness, a little laziness. <br />
<br />
And by "laziness," I mean I'm now on level 723 of Candy Crush. <br />
<br />
Dad told me this week to keep updating this blog - apparently some of you keep asking him when I'll post again. I also heard from a couple of you that my last couple posts haven't been in my "normal" vein of dry humor and sarcasm...I know they've been a little down and depressing. <br />
<br />
This one isn't starting out much better, is it? <br />
<br />
Well. Hold tight. I'll get back in the swing.<br />
<br />
Here's what's been going the last several months:<br />
<br />
Varsity baseball is still going strong. Post-season started this week and we won on Tuesday like a million to nothing. They're playing again tonight, and Matt's not home yet so I have no clue what's going on. <br />
<br />
I do know that as he was walking out the door this morning he said it was going to be ugly. For the other team. So don't bother coming to watch. <br />
<br />
And due to baseball superstitions, I'm still not allowed at games - hence the "don't bother coming to watch." Seriously. They lose when I'm there, so I've been banned for the past 12 years. Honestly, it's true. <br />
<br />
To test it out (again) I went to the first couple innings of a game when my sister and her family were here visiting because my niece Addie wanted to see Uncle Matt coach. Well, we arrived, and...they started losing. We left after two innings, and the team came back to beat Vero Beach - not an easy team. <br />
<br />
Watching Uncle Matt...he turned and waved at her and she thought it was SO COOL. Uncle Matt was in a <em>baseball uniform</em> and on a <em>baseball field</em> and he <em>waved</em>. <br />
<br />
(It made quite the impression - she's still talking about it. Erin told me a baseball team bus passed them the other day and Addie said "Maybe they're going to play Uncle Matt's team!" They live in Georgia...)<br />
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<br />
It's really, really weird...even I'm starting to believe the superstitions. I'd like to be at the games, but, well, you can't argue with the stats. Cause, Moneyball. <br />
<br />
12 years of marriage, folks. You just roll with it. <br />
<br />
2. So, yeah. Erin and family came to visit for a week! Remember <a href="http://confessionsfromthebench.blogspot.com/2013/11/seven-hours.html" target="_blank"><strong>this post</strong></a> about when I was solo with the kids for like seven measly hours? <br />
<br />
Child's play.<br />
<br />
This time - THREE DAYS SOLO. Erin and Cole were able to have a late anniversary celebration at a resort on the beach, and I volunteered to watch the girls so they could have a break. <br />
<br />
Bedtimes. Naptimes. Baths. SOLO. Cause, baseball season. Single "parent." <br />
<br />
So that was fun. <br />
<br />
The girls could smell my fear and milked it for everything they had.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Not really (but kind of really). We had a great time, and everyone survived. Everyone even got a vitamin and vegetables with their meals. Super Aunt!<br />
<br />
The goal (again) this time was to stay busy and wear ourselves out. <br />
<br />
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Which worked. When they left on that Saturday, Aunt Addie fell into a two-day coma slumber. <br />
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I even wrote a haiku about how Matt and I feel about having children. I think you'll like it. <br />
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<strong>How We Feel About Having Children - a Haiku by The Walters</strong></div>
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<em>No no no no no</em></div>
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<em>No no no no no no no</em></div>
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<em>No no no no no.</em></div>
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I mean, honestly. <br />
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This is how we define what's already in our house. <br />
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Boom. <br />
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Blog updated.<br />
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Ok, one more cause I'm realllllly proud of this....<br />
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Thanks to my workouts and counting macros and running and lifting heavy things...<br />
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I'm down 10+lbs and counting! <br />
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Relentless Performance in Vero! Training, nutritional coaching, LOVE IT! <br />
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More about that later, if you all are ready for more blog posts about food and workouts.<br />
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Cause I can bring it. AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-41876208541873222672015-02-14T05:35:00.001-08:002015-04-23T19:26:52.880-07:00It's 4am and I Must Need Coffee<div dir="ltr">
I've short-sheeted my Grandpa's bed. </div>
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It's 4am and we've decided we need a bath and some new warm jammies, and I cannot find where mom has his clean sheets stored. </div>
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So I may or may not have grabbed the set of full-size sheets from his bedroom and wrestled them onto his new twin-size hospital bed, tucking in the corners and pretending it's what I meant to do all along. </div>
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That's right. Grandpa is in a hospital bed. He's parked in the living room where he can be a part of the family and look out the window, even though he keeps telling us he wants to be left alone.</div>
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And if you know anything about Polish men, you know they're stubborn and usually get their way. </div>
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So now I'm sitting on the sofa within earshot in case he needs anything, drinking a huge mug of coffee since I'm coming off my second night shift in a row with him.</div>
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He gave me permission to use his favorite Notre Dame mug. </div>
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We're not sure what to think. Last September his doctor gave him six months and hospice was called in because Grandpa thought the idea of surgery/chemo/radiation was ridiculous at his age, and he just wanted to be left alone to live out his days in the comfort of his own home. </div>
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Plus, he used to love coffee and cake and cookies for breakfast, and everyone knows that hospital coffee sucks. </div>
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Formerly from South Bend, Indiana, his Missouri residence still looks like Notre Dame threw up on it. He bleeds blue and gold, so very comfortable in his familiar surroundings. </div>
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And he's done great at home, living fairly independently up until recently right across the backyard from mom and dad - absolutely no pain, no agitation, no nausea...just the typical decreased appetite and increased weakness.</div>
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As hard as it is to watch him lose his strength and independence, it's such a blessing that that's all that's going on.</div>
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It's been hard for him, losing his independence and having to rely on others for help. I think he put Polish hexes on the family when we brought in the hospital bed, but we couldn't risk more falls. He hated it until he discovered he loves sleeping with the head of the bed elevated. It looks...interesting, but who am I to tell him what to do? Let him make what few choices he can still make. </div>
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I love being here with him. He gave his nurse and my parents a scare last week and everyone said to come home as soon as possible. </div>
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So I did, Florida to Missouri at the drop of a hat. Jesus loves you, Southwest Airlines. </div>
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I walked into his house Thursday evening with mom and dad, and what do I see? He's sitting on the sofa with his caregiver, and immediately smiles and says "Addie!" when he sees me. </div>
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Right there. Right there is worth the entire trip. </div>
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He hasn't been eating and his weight loss is shocking. I have to restrain myself from going into Nurse Mode, and instead sit down next to him and just chill and relax in Granddaughter Mode. It's hard. </div>
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Very hard. I want to check his blood pressure, his heart and lungs, go over his comfort meds...but I don't. I put on my pajamas and snuggle with him and we eat a small bowl of ice cream, one of the few bites he's eaten in days.</div>
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We make a mess and laugh and promise each other we won't tell mom. </div>
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Then he's tired. He's now in a wheelchair for any sort of distance, and luckily I can work those things like a pro. Nursing school training at work right there, people. </div>
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His hospice nurse stopped by yesterday telling us what we already know - take it day-by-day. It took everything in me to keep my mouth shut and not say "I'm a hospice nurse too!! Let me tell you my observations and let's compare the real notes!!" </div>
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But I didn't. I don't want to be one of <i>those</i> crazy nurse family members...because I hate encountering them myself. I'm just here as a granddaughter, happy to fill in as the night shift, sleeping not too far from his side, holding his hand and giving him a sip of water now and then, wrapped in his Notre Dame blanket. </div>
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And short-sheeting the bed when needed. Obviously. </div>
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AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-56223889472304162582014-06-28T13:05:00.001-07:002014-06-28T17:46:14.212-07:00Missouri Trip Part III - Fireflies and Lake HousesI'm home now. Just rolled back into Florida, and I really never want to see the inside of a car again for a very long time. <br>
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Or at least until Monday when I have to drive around to my patients houses again. Yay. <br>
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I had a fabulous time with my family. Really, really great. This was, after all, a strictly family-based vacation since I haven't seen any of my side of the family since February when my parents came to visit. <br>
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So....warning: We are about to go down a really, <em>really</em> sappy branch of memory lane. <br>
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You know what I really missed about Missouri? <br>
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Those fantastic Midwest thunderstorms that roll in and stick around for awhile. Florida does get some pretty spectacular storms, but they're usually over in about five minutes. Minus the hurricanes. <br>
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We had one while I was there. <br>
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And of course, Dad and I go out into the driveway to look up at the sky as big, fat raindrops splash us in the face and the lightening crisscrosses the sky. <br>
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Obligatory funeral home shot right there, folks. </div>
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We used to do the same thing when the tornado sirens went off, which is probably why I'm petrified with even the smallest tornado watch alert. <br>
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Then again, when you grow up where I did, not much freaks you out. <br>
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I also missed the fireflies. For some reason, Florida just doesn't have them. <br>
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My parent's backyard right now has millions. It's gorgeous. It reminds me of family BBQs and catching fireflies in jars and bonfires and s'mores. <br>
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My cousin Andrew and I also discovered you could smash the fireflies and smear their light trail on your arms. You could also make glow-rings out of their butts. We were cool like that. <br>
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I took some pretty spectacular firefly video, but it won't upload to the blog. So trust me. It was amazing. <br>
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What else did I miss? For as long as I can remember, we've always had a place at the Lake of the Ozarks. Many summer mornings we would load up friends and swimsuits and sunscreen and head for the Lake for a day, a long weekend, a week, etc. So this trip back, we decided to go visit our favorite places. <br>
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This is my home-away-from-home. <br>
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<em>So many memories</em> here. <br>
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My old bedroom in the loft. I loved waking up to the smell of mom making coffee. The sound of dad snoring until noon when we would wake him up to go swimming or for him to make his famous salsa eggs. </div>
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<br>Summers at the Lake meant staying up late whispering to my sister about the cute boys we saw down on the docks. Nighttime boat rides to watch the fireworks at Tan-Tar-A. Swimming in the pool because I refuse to swim anywhere there are fish, sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee while watching the sun rise over the bluffs. <br>
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Trips to Randy's. Always the trips to Randy's. <br>
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No matter how close I live to the ocean, I will always hold the Lake in my heart. I'm a Lake Girl. <div><br></div><div>It was so great to be able to reminisce with my family this week. We might be getting older, but in my mind we're all still stuck in the '90's!! <br>
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<em>Today I love:</em> Getting home to my puppies (I would say Matt, but he won't arrive until tomorrow)! What I don't love is the dog hair everywhere since we don't board the dogs when we're gone. They have complete run of the house with the pet sitter, which means the rest of the night I'll be vacuuming up dog hair and deodorizing the couches. Yay me! <br>
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Stay tuned for more Missouri Adventures...</div>AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-11951777703935028742014-06-27T03:48:00.000-07:002014-06-27T03:48:39.300-07:00Missouri Trip Part II - The ArrivalI have to admit that all through high school and college the only thing I wanted to do was leave Missouri. I thought it was boring and the same thing all the time and all I wanted was something different. <br />
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Then, you grow up. You <em>do</em> leave. You move to other states - and yes, you have fun being nomadic adventurers exploring what different states have to offer.<br />
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But then you realize what was left behind, and you actually start looking forward to going back to your home state. <br />
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Saturday afternoon, when we crossed over from Illinois into Missouri, I saw a sight that brought tears to my eyes. <br />
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Cheesy, I know. But it's true!!<br />
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Home isn't home without the St. Louis Arch. <br />
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I had a to-do and to-see list to accomplish while here at home, and seeing the Arch was on there somewhere. <br />
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Check. <br />
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Imo's Pizza was number one on the list. NUMBER ONE.<br />
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A St. Louis classic, I grew up on this stuff. I <em>crave</em> it when I'm not at home. <br />
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Imo's is a religion down here, and I am more than happy to partake. <br />
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Plus, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toasted_ravioli" target="_blank">St. Louis is the birthplace of REAL toasted ravioli</a> - not that nasty stuff elsewhere in the world that consists of floppy noodles and disgusting cheese filling. <br />
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This is how God intended ravioli to be. <br />
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And please ignore my husband when he says that Imo's is nothing more than ketchup on a cracker. Imo's pizza is tasty deliciousness of a super-thin crust smothered with provel cheese. Provel - completely processed and completely amazing. <br />
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For fun reading, try "<a href="http://www.npr.org/blogs/thesalt/2013/02/13/171942864/one-city-s-love-affair-with-processed-cheese" target="_blank">One City's Love Affair with Processed Cheese</a>" from NPR. <br />
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This is my heritage, people. <br />
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Day One in the Eaton Household consisted of - of course - Makeup with Aunt Addie!!!!!<br />
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Do you remember the <a href="http://confessionsfromthebench.blogspot.com/2013/11/seven-hours.html" target="_blank">Makeup Party last November</a>? <br />
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Pretty much the same, except this time we were able to smear all sorts of colors and sparkles all over grandma's kitchen table. <br />
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Awesome. <br />
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And I'm not sure who's awesome idea this was, but Addie and Addie were put together in the same room. Maybe because of all the 3's? I'm 33 and she's 3? <br />
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In any case, this was the sleeping arrangement. <br />
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I was on the bottom trundle, because Aunt Addie sometimes has to get up in the middle of the night to go to the potty, and we didn't want her to be climbing over Little Addie at 2am. <br />
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That, and I'm not quite the Princess Sofia aficionado that my niece is. <br />
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Adelyn saw her new Princess Sofia sheets and screamed at the top of her lungs, "MooMoo (what she calls her grandma), this makes me SO HAPPY!!!" <br />
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Here's how bedtime went down: <br />
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8:30pm - Adelyn goes to bed.<br />
9:30pm - Aunt Addie goes to bed, because we all know she can't stay up much later than that without developing a case of the grumpies. <br />
11:30pm - Adelyn rolls out of bed, right onto Aunt Addie. After Aunt Addie catches her breath and scoots over, Addie and Addie snuggle in and go back to sleep. <br />
12:30am - Adelyn wakes up and states "This isn't my bed! I need to go back to my bed!" I help her get back into her bed and we fall back asleep.<br />
1:30am - Adelyn rolls out of bed again, right on top of Aunt Addie. Again. Aunt Addie groans and scoots over, and ignores the fact that one of us smells like a little bit of pee. <br />
3:00am - Aunt Addie wakes up to the touch of a little hand patting her face and a little voice saying "Aunt Addie!! Aunt Addie!! What are you doing???" <br />
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3am people. 3am. <br />
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Aunt Addie then gives up any premise of trying to sleep and decides the couch will be her bed for rest of the week. <br />
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Amen and amen. AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-78025064544454489072014-06-26T08:57:00.003-07:002014-06-26T10:27:31.506-07:00Missouri Trip Part 1 - The Great IdeaThis year for my summer vacation, my sister and I decided that instead of planning some sort of awesome tropical getaway (because, come on - I have enough sand in my car and shoes as it is from living in Florida), it would be a good idea for all of us to meet up in Missouri at our parent's house to visit them and our grandpa. <br />
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Grandpa and I aren't getting any younger, and we wanted the chance to visit with him as much as possible this week, because he's definitely not up for 18 hour car trips to visit me. So we come to him. <br />
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And of course, I'm solo. Matt is up to his eyeballs in his Master's classes (last count was that he was on page 36 of a massive paper), so he needed some time alone to concentrate - plus he flew out today to go to Ohio for some big presentation or thesis discussion or something. <br />
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Thank you JESUS we don't have summer baseball this year. <br />
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So what do I do? <br />
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I come up with the awesome idea to drive to my sister's last Friday, help her and Cole load up the family van with a three-year-old and one-year-old, and drive from Georgia to Missouri. <br />
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<br />
Let me repeat: with a three-year-old and a one-year-old. <br />
<br />
Seriously awesome idea, right? <br />
<br />
They were waiting in the driveway when I arrived Friday afternoon, and Adelyn was beyond herself with excitement. Liddie kept playing with rocks and bugs...letting me know where I stand in her life.<br />
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Let's recap some highlights so far:<br />
<ul>
<li>I'm now referring to myself in the third-person as "Aunt Addie." </li>
</ul>
As in, "Aunt Addie has Twizzlers and Diet Coke and animal crackers and caffeine pills!!!! Who would like some??" And "Aunt Addie has to go potty. Does anyone else need to go potty?" And "Aunt Addie has a headache and needs to go lay down and her iPhone battery died so no, we cannot listen to all the Frozen songs again and again and again. And again."<br />
<ul>
<li>Speaking of, I've impressed not only my nieces, but also my brother-in-law that me, the Childless Wonder, knows every word to every song in Frozen. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I now know the entire soundtrack to any Dora episode ever. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Baby Einstein videos are referred to as "baby crack." And it's seriously true. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I've taught Adelyn that when someone tells her she's pretty, she needs to respond with an "I know!" My sister <em>loves</em> that one.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>The sound of babies crying does not register with me anymore. It's pretty much white noise. All the time white noise. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Adelyn and I have formed a gang. We're now called "The Addies." </li>
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We have our own hand signs and everything. <br />
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More Missouri posts to come...we're sneaking off to the store while the kids are watching Frozen with their daddy. Again. For the 139th time. <br />
<br />
Wait. Scratch that. We're now all watching Frozen as a family. You know, more bonding time over Disney animation. <br />
<br />
<em>Today I love:</em> The sound of Adelyn saying "Aunt Addie, you're my favorite Addie ever." <br />
<br />AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-90566328576665323612014-03-17T17:25:00.000-07:002014-03-17T17:25:33.405-07:00One YearI just realized I haven't posted since January. <br />
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</div>
JANUARY!!!<br />
<br />
That was THREE MONTHS AGO. <br />
<br />
For the love, people. You all have to keep me on track!<br />
<br />
A lot of things have happened since January. <br />
<br />
High School baseball season started. Of course. That's why you haven't seen me and I haven't seen my husband. <br />
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And, per my last post, at the end of January, we did become the parents of our new husky, Kaia. She's not the missing-ear dog we thought we would get out of Orlando...that dog was more of a one-dog family (which, um, is definitely not us). Our new girl is a rescue from Tampa who had a pretty (and unfortunately, literally) beat-up life. <br />
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Now she has us, her bear, and her own spot on the sofa.<br />
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Heaven help you if you try to remove her from her spot on the sofa.<br />
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Or take her bear.<br />
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Seriously. This girl and her bear. It's an obsession. </div>
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I joined the local running club, my parents came to visit, my cousin spent spring break with us and Matt's parents will be here this weekend. <br />
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We finally saw Frozen, and now I'm the weird 33-year-old who runs to the soundtrack on her iPod. <br />
<br />
Plus, it's still baseball season. Still. <br />
<br />
Forever. <br />
<br />
You know what else is still going on? My job. <br />
<br />
I know, right? I'm still employed! I still love what I do! And because I'm still employed, I hope that means they still love me! <br />
<br />
Tomorrow is my official one-year anniversary with Treasure Coast Hospice. I know you wouldn't think you could use the words "happy" and "hospice" in the same sentence, but that's how I am right now. <br />
<br />
Hospice has taught me so many things. How to deal with sadness and grief and end-of-life issues, sure. It's <em>hospice</em>, for crying out loud. Those things are part of the obvious package. <br />
<br />
Here's the part where I get dramatic and melancholy, just to warn you.<br />
<br />
<em>I've learned to appreciate my days more.</em> Sure, I might be stressed out to the point of crying and screaming and chocolate and multiple Diet Cokes, but you know what? I was able to get out of bed this morning - on my own. I was able to dress myself this morning -on my own. Granted, scrubs and a ponytail aren't that difficult to achieve, but hey. I'll take it. I was able to think and talk and make my own decisions and order pizza for dinner. When the same-old becomes the same-old day after day, it's ok. I'll take it. <br />
<br />
<em>I've learned that compassion and a positive attitude and a listening ear goes a lot further with my patients than just shoving them full of another pill</em>. By going into their homes and saying "Hey! I'm your nurse! Where are you from - since I know you're not from Florida because <em>no one</em> is actually from Florida!!" you set the tone of your meetings. My patients are happily surprised that I'm not there to remind them that they're dying visit after visit. I'm there to make sure they're comfortable and still be able to have a great time living out the remainder of whatever time they have left. We don't focus on dying. We focus on the present moment - something they don't think of when they hear the scary word <em>"hospice."</em> As our work mantra goes, we <em>treasure life. </em><br />
<br />
<em>I've learned that my fellow nurses and co-workers are fantastic sounding boards and stress-relievers</em>. To be 100% honest, we all have a rather weird, warped sense of humor when we're not on the clock. And even maybe when we're on the clock. Maybe. Maybe it's because I brought my weird, warped sense of humor to the job that only comes with growing up in a funeral home. Whatever the case, we can be dark and sarcastic around each other one minutes, and we can laugh and vent and cry on each other's shoulders the next. My co-workers are fabulous sources of information...we call each other daily just to run ideas and theories by each other. I'm never alone. If I have a patient who is freaking out and won't stop throwing up and I've gotten mucus all over my scrubs and I have to get the urine sample to the lab by 3:00 when they close and it's 2:45 and I'm on the other side of town, never fear. I mean, yes. Fear and trembling and speeding across town to get to the lab, sure. But at the end of the day we sit and talk and I find out that yay! I'm not the only one going through this. It's awesome. <br />
<br />
<em>I've learned it's ok to cry for my patients, for people I might have known this entire year or only an entire day. </em>Sure, not to cry so much that my patient's family has to comfort me, but to cry in empathy and sadness for their loss. To acknowledge their own sadness and not just sit there filling out funeral home paperwork or staring at the charting on my computer screen. To pay tribute to a life. A person. A fellow human being. I had a family member tell me last week that it meant so much to them to see me tear up when their father died - that they knew their father had made an impact on my life in just the short time I knew him. They were grateful to know I cared. <br />
<br />
I think I also had to go to the bathroom since I hadn't gone in 12 hours, but still. <br />
<br />
KIDDING. Just KIDDING. <br />
<br />
Sometimes. <br />
<br />
I love my patients. I love to find out who they were before they became bedbound. I love when they want to tell me about their kids and grandkids, their dogs, their jobs, the places they've traveled. I love when they open up and tell me things they are scared to tell their family, but by sharing their thoughts and fears they gain the courage to make things right with their mother or daughter or son or dad. They like to know they're not just a patient in a hospital bed, that their dreams and fears and thoughts and feelings still matter. <br />
<br />
So here's what I plan to do as I celebrate my one year with hospice. <br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Look people in the eye more often. Be an active listener. Make them know that they matter. </li>
<li>Laugh more. Give more. Realize we're not promised tomorrow, so we better make the most of each breath today. </li>
<li>Let things go. As my husband likes to remind me, "It is what it is." No matter how much energy I spend complaining and griping and wanting to pull my hair out, my circumstances are dictated by how I react to a situation. I can actually choose to be happy or upset, relaxed or stressed. Positive or negative. It is what it is! </li>
<li>Appreciate the little things that I used to find so insignificant. If I get bored with my work-sleep-work-sleep routine day in and day out, guess what? At least I have a work-sleep routine. I'm not bedbound. I don't have to have someone else talk for me. I can feed myself (Diet Coke, mostly). Some days, these are major accomplishments. </li>
</ul>
So that's that. How do you celebrate the days you've been given?<br />
<br />
<em>Today I love:</em> Warm, spring-like temps with a nice ocean breeze and sitting outside while I blog. And drink Diet Coke. <br />
<br />
I also love my niece, who I'm currently molding to become part of the next great generation of nurses. <br />
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Exam gloves on the feet? Nailed it. <br />
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AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-36150715951404110172014-01-11T14:11:00.001-08:002014-01-11T14:11:15.664-08:00JanuaryOk, January.<br />
<br />
Holidays are over, traveling is over, <a href="http://confessionsfromthebench.blogspot.com/2013/11/seven-hours.html" target="_blank">taking care of my two nieces is over</a>. <br />
<br />
We're home for awhile. <br />
<br />
Whew. <br />
<br />
Except, well, baseball starts on Monday. <br />
<br />
Thanks, Florida! <br />
<br />
So while Matt is busy filling our garage up with baseball <strike>crap</strike> equipment, I'm doing what I do this time every year. <br />
<br />
Trying to figure out how I'm going to fill my time from now until May, when I'll see my beloved again. <br />
<br />
Except, well, for summer ball. Then fall ball. Then...<br />
<br />
You get the idea. <br />
<br />
Several things are happening:<br />
<br />
1. My parents are coming to visit! The last time they were here was in 2012, because <em>someone</em> just had to have two adorably cute babies and my parents magically turned into SuperGrandpeople overnight and choose to use all their time driving back and forth between Missouri and Georgia. Further proving my point that the baby of the family - in this case my little sister - is always the favorite. Sick. <br />
<br />
Just kidding. I know they love me. It's not their fault we moved seven million miles away into the depths of Florida. <br />
<br />
So yay! They'll be here in February. Matt's parents will be here in March. I have a cousin who might also spend her spring break down here in March. No matter who comes between Monday and May, you won't see Matt at all, which everyone has been told and warned of ahead of time. But on the other hand...<br />
<br />
2. They might get to meet a new addition to the family! We're currently in the process of adopting another husky. The Siberian Husky Rescue out of Tampa has a six-year-old girl available, and we're interested. The group takes adoptions very seriously...our references and vet check checked out, so today was our home visit. A volunteer came here to make sure our house is safe and pet-friendly.<br />
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Um, do you think there will be a problem? Bunch of lazy dogs...<br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".r[2h].[1][3][1]{comment10152204934137059_32468915}[0].[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3]"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".r[2h].[1][3][1]{comment10152204934137059_32468915}[0].[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[2h].[1][3][1]{comment10152204934137059_32468915}[0].[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[2h].[1][3][1]{comment10152204934137059_32468915}[0].[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[0].{end}[0]{0}[0]">We kind of have a special-needs dog home going on over here anyway. Suka has been blind with cataracts since he was six months old (unfortunately common in huskies), and Knuke is somewhat neurotic and scared of EVERYTHING. This new girl is six and is missing </span></span><span data-reactid=".r[2h].[1][3][1]{comment10152204934137059_32468915}[0].[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[3]"><span data-reactid=".r[2h].[1][3][1]{comment10152204934137059_32468915}[0].[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[2h].[1][3][1]{comment10152204934137059_32468915}[0].[0].{right}.[0].{left}.[0].[0].[0][3].[0].[3].[0].{end}[0]{0}[0]">an ear from trying to fight off something from taking her babies...the babies, of course, got adopted quickly but not many people like an older, damaged dog. We do! We do! Plus she's already housebroken. Bonus.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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If we pass the home inspection, we'll get to drive up to Orlando to meet her. I keep calling her "her" and "she" because the rescue has currently listed her name as "Precious," which will <em>not</em> stay with her if she becomes a part of our family. <br />
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Matt probably wants a name like Shaq or Dirt or Cleat or something. I'm thinking something more like Loki or Juneau. <br />
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3. New Year, New Me - back in October I quit CrossFit. It was my addiction of choice at the time, and if you haven't<a href="http://confessionsfromthebench.blogspot.com/2013/10/quitter.html" target="_blank"> read my post about why I quit</a>, it's probably for not what you think. And I miss it. I think about CrossFit a LOT. A LOT A LOT. But I'm getting back to what's tried and true for me - running. My first love. This girl has three marathons and four half-marathons under her belt, and it's been <em>years</em> since I've seriously ran. The pounds have snuck back on and it's a struggle to get 3-5 miles done. <br />
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Who am I kidding? 2-3 miles is a struggle. For shame. </div>
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This is the face of a hard three miles this morning. We shared some ice cubes post-run.<br />
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My neighbor is an avid (and I mean <em>avid</em>) runner - she's in her 60's and runs multiple marathons a year - and mentioned to me that the Runners Depot here in Vero has training sessions that go on a couple times each year. <br />
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Today I signed up for the spring group - we start January 28 and train through April. I'm very excited about this. I'll get matched with people who run my own pace, we get custom workouts and create goals, nutrition coaching, running coaching...just like when I started training back in 2004 with Team in Training. I'm looking forward to seriously hitting the pavement again and getting back in shape.<br />
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4. My friend Marilyn took me to the <em>coolest</em> place today. I love little local gems like this.<br />
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<a href="http://www.localharvest.org/white-rabbit-acres-organic-farm-csa-M7062" target="_blank">The White Rabbit Organic Farm.</a><br />
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It's a family-owned farm that has a co-op of other local farmers, all organic produce and other such items. <br />
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Their store is on the honor system - you go in, find what you want, measure it out or weigh it, fill out your ticket, put your money in an envelope, and drop it in the drop box. </div>
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I picked out some heirloom tomatoes and some local raw honey. </div>
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It's a place my mother-in-law would love.<br />
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We also went down the road to <a href="http://schachtgroves.com/" target="_blank">Schacht Groves</a>, another local, family owned place that is, obviously, local citrus groves. <br />
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Marilyn introduced me to one of the owners, who I was happy to discover is originally from Clayton, Missouri. Yay STL! She liked my Cardinals iPhone case. <br />
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I ended up getting some grapefruit, and Marilyn traded me one for some honeybells, which are apparently the equivalent of crack down here this time of year. They're pretty much deep orange oranges that taste like candy. <br />
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I'm ok with that. </div>
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Have I mentioned how much I love Florida in the Spring? Wait. I mean January. <br />
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Same thing. <br />
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And seriously. Lots of baseball stuff in the garage. True story. <br />
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<em>Today I love:</em> Discovering funky local places and free samples of orange juice straight from the grove in the backyard.</div>
AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-53843816240727297092013-11-16T04:54:00.003-08:002013-11-16T04:54:58.709-08:00Seven HoursI do not understand how you people do it. <br />
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Stay-at-home moms? You are miracle workers and heroes and deserve crowns and medals and chocolate and a paid vacation away from the madness you surround yourself with every. single. day. <br />
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Here's the short story: my sister had her yearly MS appointment in downtown Atlanta yesterday, so I volunteered to come watch my two nieces (ages six months and 2.5ish years) since Erin and Cole had to leave the house before sunrise to make it to the neurologist. <br />
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Long story: Holy cow. Where to even start? Let's break it down. <br />
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6:30 am - Erin and Cole hand me the baby monitor, a huge cup of coffee, and scamper out the door, laughing and giggling and wishing me luck. Ok, the laughing and giggling part I made up, but still. Erin looked liberated with a twinkle in her eye.<br />
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6:31 am - I'm staring at the baby monitor - which toggles back and forth between the girl's rooms - praying they sleep until their parents get home that afternoon. <br />
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6:35am - Everyone is still sleeping. I had my Kindle with me, but I didn't read a word. I couldn't tear myself away from the monitor. Did someone move a leg? Shhhhhhhhhhhhh. Slllleeeeeeeeeeep. <br />
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7:30am - Everyone is still sleeping. I'm watching the news and on my third cup of coffee. I later regret this when both girls are up and I don't have a free minute to pee. <br />
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Erin had left me a list of "how to keep my kids alive while I'm gone for seven hours" taped to the fridge. </div>
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I wore a path in the floor going back and forth to refer to the guidelines, and got a little panicky when at 8am, everyone is STILL SLEEPING. Erin's note said the girls usually get up around 7:30. WHAT AM I DOING WRONG??? THIS IS NOT WHAT THE LIST SAID!!!!! WE CANNOT DIVERT FROM THE LIST!!!<br />
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So I'm figuring at this point Jesus either answered my prayers and they were going to sleep all day, or else something was horribly wrong. Do all mothers have those wicked emotional swings of "everything-is-ok-but-not-really-is-everyone-still-alive?????" But I remembered a very specific episode of "Friends" that stated <em>never wake a sleeping baby or else you will want to kill yourself later. </em>I could see the occasional arm or leg move on the monitor screen, so I just let them be. <br />
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8:01am - Adelyn wakes up. No noise, nothing. I just watch on the baby monitor as she stood up in the middle of her bed and started stripping. Awesome. Clothes were flying everywhere. I go poke my head in her room and say, "Good morning!" She responds with "AUNT ADDIEEEE!!!!!" Morning person to the max. We change pull-ups, Aunt Addie puts Little Addie in a puppy shirt and pants, and we go see about breakfast. <br />
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8:07am - Baby Liddie starts crying. I'm in the middle of cutting fruit for Adelyn. Ummm.....I do what all awesome aunts do and I turn on Dora and throw a handful of Cinnamon Chex in Adelyn's general direction to keep her occupied while I sprint down the hall to Liddie's room. Liddie immediately smiles and lets out the biggest stink I've ever smelled. And that's saying something considering my line of work. <br />
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I'll spare you the details. <br />
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8:15am - Back in the kitchen. Liddie on one hip, trying to warm her bottle in the warmer thing while Adelyn stares mindlessly at Dora singing "Vamanos, let's go!" I tell myself it's educational and she's learning a second language. I don't get the bottle in Liddie's mouth fast enough (which Erin warned me would happen), and she starts freaking out. Then, once bottle is in, she decides she doesn't want it. So Liddie gets put in the highchair with a handful of Cheerios while I mash up a banana and finish cutting Adelyn's fruit. <br />
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Do I sound frantic? I was. My mind was screaming "Don't let them smell your fear!!! Stay calm!!" <br />
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Liddie goes nuts on the mashed banana.</div>
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I quickly realize my personal "Clean up as you go" mantra does NOT work in these types of situations. Adelyn eats her whole plate of strawberries and oranges, as well as the other half of Liddie's banana. <br />
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Girls fed. Score. <br />
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9:00 am - I leave dishes and food pieces for later (not too worried since the dog is helping vacuum up Cheerios), and we all go downstairs to the most wonderful room my sister has set up - a dedicated playroom filled with a gazillion toys. </div>
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The best part is it has four walls and a door. Children corralled. Liddie is happy to just sit on the floor and gnaw on some toys, while Adelyn and I play dress-up, color, have a dance party, and play with makeup. Objective: Stay busy, wear ourselves out. </div>
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It worked. <br />
<br />
9:50am - Liddie starts to get fussy. According to The List, this is when she usually needs to go down for her morning nap. Warm a bottle, rock her for awhile, sing, love, snuggle...yeah right. Here's what actually happened. Adelyn promised me she would play quietly by herself, but I didn't trust her. At all. So I ran upstairs with Liddie while giving her about six sucks from the breakfast bottle, rocked her about three times and buckled her in her swing. Sound machine on, lights off, kid was asleep in 30 seconds. <br />
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I'm feeling pretty awesome at this point. I have magical baby-asleep powers!<br />
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I'm also exhausted and keep looking at the clock. It's only been two hours since they woke up! What the heck???? I'm ready for my own nap and the house looks like a tornado hit it. How could this much damage be done already this early in the morning?? <br />
<br />
Oh. And I guess I need to let the dog out. <br />
<br />
Oh. And yes. They're potty training Adelyn, who will pee-pee, but not do anything else and who's favorite word in the whole wide world is "NO!" So yay. I had to guilt-trip her into attempting to potty and wash her hands, so then I hate myself for getting stern with her. <br />
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10:15am - Adelyn and I are back downstairs playing, and I'm checking the baby monitor every five seconds to see if Liddie is still sleeping. I don't like leaving her upstairs while I'm downstairs, so I convince Adelyn to make a game of cleaning up the playroom - yes, Mary Poppins style - and I literally bribe her with snacks and cookies (at 10:15am!!!) to come upstairs and watch Daniel/Thomas/Sesame Street while I clean up the kitchen. <br />
<br />
First - when did Bert and Ernie turn into Claymation? That was weird. <br />
<br />
Second - Erin's list said Liddie would sleep for about an hour. Two hours later...<br />
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12 NOON (!!!!) - Liddie still sleeping. I checked about sixteen times to make sure she was still breathing. I texted Erin seventeen times to make sure I wasn't doing anything wrong. Erin was thrilled Liddie was sleeping so well, so I started breathing again. Plus, Erin said she and Cole were done at the neurologist and were on their way home. <br />
<br />
Like a five-year-old, I kept looking out the window watching for them to pull into the driveway. <br />
<br />
12:05 pm - Fixing Adelyn some lunch. It has 30 more seconds in the microwave when Liddie wakes up. Crap. I turn up the sound on Sesame Street and rush down the hall to get the baby. <br />
<br />
Who, by the way, immediately wanted her own lunch. <br />
<br />
I take Adelyn's lunch out of the microwave, throw in Liddie's sweet potatoes and baby food turkey, and put her in her highchair with more Cheerios. </div>
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And the bottle warmer burned the crap out of my fingers. </div>
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Evil.</div>
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Meanwhile, Liddie is not impressed with her Cheerios and people from six counties over stopped by to see who was crying so loudly. Adelyn then sees <em>her</em> lunch on the counter, and immediately starts crying and freaking out. <br />
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I think I turned four full circles trying to figure out what to do first. This is how it went down: I gave Adelyn a bite of her mac & cheese while she was standing there with her mouth open from crying. It worked. She took her bowl over to the TV and finished watching something about frogs. Liddie had no interest whatsoever in the sweet potatoes or turkey, but finished off a bottle and a half and then got plopped in her baby holder thing. </div>
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I want to kiss whoever invented those. </div>
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We made it. Erin and Cole got home, Adelyn goes down for a nap, Liddie close behind around 2pm. I don't notice any of this because I'm in a worn-out coma and Erin had rewarded me with a Campfire Mocha from Caribou.</div>
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I wanted to curl up in a dark corner and sip my coffee. </div>
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Instead, we tried to entice Liddie to crawl. </div>
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Didn't work. The only thing we succeeded in doing was ticking the baby off an making her fussy. </div>
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Erin does this EVERY DAY and I don't know how. Especially with such a debilitating and fatiguing neurological condition as MS. I have hospice patients who have MS who are wheelchair or bed-bound, and it just amazes me that Erin has the stamina to do this. I get concerned because if I get that tired after just seven hours, Erin has to be ridiculously exhausted. It's not helping her MS any to let herself get that fatigued, but she does it with such a selfless attitude. <br />
<br />
She also got really crappy news at her MS appointment. As a nurse, especially as a hospice nurse who sees these things every day, I want to scream at her to rest when needed, to take care of herself so she doesn't end up chasing her kids from a wheelchair wearing oxygen and having a feeding tube. But it's just not the reality. Those kids come first, and she makes them first above herself. I'm so proud of her. <br />
<br />
And also more than a little in awe. Everyone thinks Matt and I hate kids because we don't have any, but that's ridiculously untrue. We love kids. My husband is a teacher and coach, for crying out loud. If he didn't love kids, he would have chosen a significantly different profession. But honestly? I'm weak and incapable of this kind of commitment. I will be the first to tell you my sister is way stronger than me, because I just don't think I could do this every day forever and ever. At least with my job I get weekends and evenings off...but Erin is on-call 24/7. Saturday and Sunday schedules are the same as Monday - Friday. Just the thought of that is daunting to me.<br />
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So, to wrap this up, my sister is awesome. And she and Cole have awesome kids. Who I kept alive.<br />
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In time for Makeup Party Part II. </div>
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<em>Today I Love</em>: Being an Auntie and spending precious time with my nieces. I also love the fact we're all still alive and speaking to each other. </div>
AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-26586177978102664862013-10-23T03:37:00.001-07:002013-10-23T03:37:48.477-07:00Quitter I'm just going to come right out and say it. <br />
<br />
I quit CrossFit on Monday. <br />
<br />
I cried. <br />
<br />
It hurt, but I had reasons. I still have reasons. I also know I can go back later, but right now, this was the right decision I had to make for myself.<br />
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So why did I quit? <br />
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Priorities. <br />
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I told Rob that it was money and the fact I'm just not mentally there anymore. <br />
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Both true. <br />
<br />
The money thing? We're not eating ramen and cheerios for every meal or anything. But you know what's worse? We've been sliding on our tithe at church. Where does that tell you my priorities were?<br />
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I love CrossFit, but I love Jesus more. <br />
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The mental thing? Don't get me wrong. I love working out. I love the feeling of accomplishment and the rush of endorphins. I love feeling healthy and fit. But you know what's worse? Thinking about working out and diets and food and squatting more than 100# more than I think about my relationship with my Savior. <br />
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I love Crossfit, but I love Jesus more. <br />
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I need to refocus where my life is right now. <br />
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I absolutely love the verse my friend Heidi posted on Facebook last night. The benefit of surrounding yourself with Christian friends? They get it. They encourage when they don't realize they're encouraging you. Heidi is going through her own similar struggles, and I thought this passage sums up what I'm feeling perfectly. <br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><em>For while bodily training is of <strong>some</strong> value, godliness is of value<strong> in every way</strong>, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come. (1 Timothy 4:8 ESV)</em> </span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">It's not just this life we're preparing for. Sure, with Crossfit I can probably hold my own against a zombie apocalypse.</span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">But with Jesus, I can hold my own against satan and the things unseen. Much more important in my opinion. </span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">With my Monday night bible study and Revival Week this week at church, I'm discovering my first love, the God of my youth that I met that one Thursday night at church camp when I was 14. I might have changed, but I'm so, so happy to discover that the God I've set on the back shelf is still the God I loved with all my heart almost 19 years ago. He hasn't changed. He's my constant. </span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Last night at church the pastor was talking about how as Christians, we hear about the "mountaintop" experiences, only to bring us back down in the valley again. How Christianity is a rollercoaster ride. </span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Which pretty much sums up my life the past 20 years. </span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">But you know what? Hebrews 6:19 tells us that God is an anchor for the soul. He's constant. He's the exact opposite of a rollercoaster. He's firm. Secure. Solid. Never changing. </span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">It's time to get off that rollercoaster and just live in the consistency of Jesus. Stop looking for that mountaintop - we don't have to work to "feel" his presence. He's already here!!! </span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">So there you have it. That's me. <span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">I'm a CrossFit quitter. Judge me if you have to. Hate me. Chalk me up to just one more person who couldn't stick it out. </span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">I really don't care. </span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
My<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> soul is at peace with this decision, which is the most important part</span></span><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">But if anyone wants to get me a kettlebell for my birthday, I wouldn't turn it down. </span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><em>Today I love:</em> My Jesus. My sweet, sweet Jesus doesn't just help me get through the day, He is <em>with me</em> through the day. </span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><em>In Christ alone my hope is found<br /> He is my light, my strength, my song<br /> This cornerstone, this solid ground<br /> Firm through the fiercest drought and storm<br /><br /> What heights of love<br /> What depths of peace<br /> When fears are stilled<br /> When strivings cease<br /><br /> My comforter, my all in all<br /> Here in the love of Christ I stand<br /><br /> There in the ground His body lay<br /> Light of the world by darkness slain<br /> Then bursting forth in glorious day<br /> Up from the grave He rose again<br /><br /> And as He stands in victory<br /> Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me<br /> For I am His and He is mine<br /> Bought with the precious blood of Christ<br /><br /> No guilt in life<br /> No fear in death<br /> This is the power of Christ in me<br /><br /> From life’s first cry to final breath<br /> Jesus commands my destiny<br /><br /> No power of hell, no scheme of man<br /> Can ever pluck me from His hand<br /> Till He returns or calls me home<br /> Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand<br /><br /> I found my strength, I found my hope<br /> I found my help in Christ alone<br /> When fear has set, when dark has fall<br /> I found my peace in Christ alone<br /><br /> I give my life, I give my all<br /> I sing my song to Christ alone<br /> The King of kings, the Lord I love<br /> All heaven signs to Christ alone<br /><br />Till He returns or calls me home<br /> Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand</em><br /> </span>AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-29992795161234754832013-09-29T12:47:00.001-07:002013-09-29T12:47:13.863-07:00RandomThings on my mind. Very random. <br />
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It's hard searching for the perfect area rug. We can't do shag because of dog hair. We can't do woven because of dog hair. We can't do dark colors because of dog hair. We can't do light colors because of the occasional dog accident and husband-spilling-Coke-Zero accidents. I give up. <br />
<br />
It's time for another Paleo challenge, starting TOMORROW. September 30. I'm not going to incessantly post every day of my menus like I did back in July; weekly updates will be annoying enough. I have some new recipes I want to try (apple & pumpkin egg strata bake for fall, anyone??) and with our new grill/smoker, this time around will be a no-brainer. <br />
<br />
The good thing about my last Paleo challenge is that some new habits formed, and stuck. Like no more Splenda. I tried Splenda in my coffee a couple weeks ago just for something sweet and I about passed out. It was <em>nasty</em>. I ended up dumping the cup down the drain and starting over with a good ol' cup of pure black caffeine. Yum. <br />
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I won't see my husband again for a few weeks/months/years. Not only is he teaching <em>and</em> working on his Master's <em>and</em> coaching golf, but fall baseball started yesterday. Awesome. <br />
<br />
With Matt off coaching baseball all day yesterday, my friend Marilyn and I went out to explore the area. She's lived here awhile and works for the Fish and Wildlife Conservation Department, so she knows all of the awesome nature trails and animal hideouts. We went to the Centennial Trail, a really cool conservation area north of Vero that's a great place to explore and see all sorts of different native birds and plants. <br />
<br />
The Centennial Trail commemorates one of the nation's very first National Wildlife Refuge in 1903 by President Theodore Roosevelt. Right here in Florida. Ten minutes away from my house. Very cool. <br />
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I'm such a history nerd. <br />
<br />
From <a href="http://www.floridahikes.com/centennial" target="_blank">Florida Hikes</a>:<em> Pelican Island isn’t just a National Wildlife Refuge, it’s <strong>the</strong> National Wildlife Refuge that started the whole concept going, back in 1903. Even further back, in 1858, the small island in the Indian River Lagoon – offshore from where the refuge access is today – was documented as a brown pelican breeding ground.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>On March 14, 1903, President Theodore Roosevelt signed an order to designate Pelican Island as the first Federal bird reservation, the first time ever the government set aside land for wildlife. The National Wildlife Refuge system evolved out of this act, as did our National Parks and National Forests. On March 14, 2003, the Centennial Trail was the centerpiece of a nationwide celebration of the National Wildlife Refuge system.</em><br />
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Easy hike, beautiful scenery. <br />
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Each plank of the walkway commemorates a National Wildlife Refuge, in order of year added. </div>
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Shout-out to Missouri!</div>
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Then we walked a mile or so on the mushy beach sand, allowing me to wake up this morning with aching calves and sore feet. Yay!<br />
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<em>Today I love:</em> Natural, non-touristy Florida and dry shampoo that smells like blueberries for my dogs. They are <em>stinky</em>!<br />
<br />AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-51816058695695706052013-09-22T15:39:00.001-07:002013-09-22T15:39:34.140-07:00Family<div>You know when you have to get on an airplane and fly four states away and you don't know when you're going to see your friends and family again and you end up with a massive crying headache? </div><div><br></div><div>That's all I've done today. </div><div><br></div><div>This weekend was awesome and beautiful and sparkly and perfect. </div><div><br></div><div>If my family knows how to do anything right, it revolves around throwing a fabulous wedding. </div><div><br></div><div>The setting: my Auntie Mary Eleanor and Uncle Sam's house. The memories made growing up here...the absolute perfect place to celebrate even more family. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVLqKFdLvmJjCGwJ3OYzwkNrFAihXzWMVdD-n3B_BcUkYbMxmJu-TDOS4RaY-Xu83D2TpKefjyI8A-6h8O_GOFCXNvmcMztcSrGlXFpLC43NRN2E_5mDKMSWIMOxR2fDYh2RA4ZoWaL72/s640/blogger-image--2022314661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVLqKFdLvmJjCGwJ3OYzwkNrFAihXzWMVdD-n3B_BcUkYbMxmJu-TDOS4RaY-Xu83D2TpKefjyI8A-6h8O_GOFCXNvmcMztcSrGlXFpLC43NRN2E_5mDKMSWIMOxR2fDYh2RA4ZoWaL72/s640/blogger-image--2022314661.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGM7mRX5dyoQtRlUG7zlfQ0ZtP16L3dJb_WvQpaU6tuV8d9lFhOk7LxcynT62o1DVx59zHVdqrZtDAMFfANhfQ219rKNuYQjuVYm7JY65myFT_U2x2GlUyYs0nwXvmEmRkFj6bUtdZPWqo/s640/blogger-image--1016351847.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGM7mRX5dyoQtRlUG7zlfQ0ZtP16L3dJb_WvQpaU6tuV8d9lFhOk7LxcynT62o1DVx59zHVdqrZtDAMFfANhfQ219rKNuYQjuVYm7JY65myFT_U2x2GlUyYs0nwXvmEmRkFj6bUtdZPWqo/s640/blogger-image--1016351847.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38_pfiN6BPRbnsAqfd0kJEzQ04lcEGZhyrS0YBtUlYTWwsEZcbN1jlZX7fivbliNf3a-OjsIfBCHrE1HJK1PwfebmWhPNwHSd7e4YI0sCC3Hx3b0F4YkIz03ze_hK_yoJtqzz_hO9TpBX/s640/blogger-image--1605715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38_pfiN6BPRbnsAqfd0kJEzQ04lcEGZhyrS0YBtUlYTWwsEZcbN1jlZX7fivbliNf3a-OjsIfBCHrE1HJK1PwfebmWhPNwHSd7e4YI0sCC3Hx3b0F4YkIz03ze_hK_yoJtqzz_hO9TpBX/s640/blogger-image--1605715.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1atnT4UN3y_T7NoKpnF9och6CanuB8oUIyKjTqlGkaCE0IattYxDK33UG30_26iKExll5aO4h7oM_U-qFqd5jpJSUZ9vSbrpczJghn1S5H8_oZNkbdj2ZJiik9X4eBsW2OIMWsRort-M/s640/blogger-image-556576109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1atnT4UN3y_T7NoKpnF9och6CanuB8oUIyKjTqlGkaCE0IattYxDK33UG30_26iKExll5aO4h7oM_U-qFqd5jpJSUZ9vSbrpczJghn1S5H8_oZNkbdj2ZJiik9X4eBsW2OIMWsRort-M/s640/blogger-image-556576109.jpg"></a></div></div><br></div><div>I think I heard Uncle Sam say the last time a wedding was held here was in 1886 or something. Yes. The 1800's. Horses and carriages. </div><div><br></div><div>Speaking of...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtEfINaWr4CA1Mm8HV96PTRVtqeAi65BA4QM04EcxGnmpSBn6Yc83VqKiM_9WbWMFPIFEFlvD31gngcr6t2j7Yl4w-yJghhIS0UK10TT5QufbMGY6Gn829ckLZO26iO7U9-SSIhdQp-ya-/s640/blogger-image-1983479188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtEfINaWr4CA1Mm8HV96PTRVtqeAi65BA4QM04EcxGnmpSBn6Yc83VqKiM_9WbWMFPIFEFlvD31gngcr6t2j7Yl4w-yJghhIS0UK10TT5QufbMGY6Gn829ckLZO26iO7U9-SSIhdQp-ya-/s640/blogger-image-1983479188.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The 19th century has nothing on us. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And what's a family get-together without the porta-potty tent sponsored by Eaton Funeral Home? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNg9XWjJBhYWt0SySsiZoOTca3SFuY4EvN_4czOgvgSoHrGqJAi_-NCfdj7ZXdrXtLkVjk-uJv8NAPHMRGlaUGwlPioy2DeQ1X4Ccsv13OcRnC3x6hLJ6A7_lFHVQX_ZuQ9bMmq9OhtFyq/s640/blogger-image--2070925024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNg9XWjJBhYWt0SySsiZoOTca3SFuY4EvN_4czOgvgSoHrGqJAi_-NCfdj7ZXdrXtLkVjk-uJv8NAPHMRGlaUGwlPioy2DeQ1X4Ccsv13OcRnC3x6hLJ6A7_lFHVQX_ZuQ9bMmq9OhtFyq/s640/blogger-image--2070925024.jpg"></a></div><br></div>After all, dad <i>did</i> tell Erin that she was able to go to college from the money made from the little machine in the ladies restroom. So this is fitting. </div><div><br></div><div>The wedding was <i>gorgeous. </i>After living with my cousins Tom and Gretchen for a year during nursing school, their son Jonathan is more like a little brother to me than second cousin. I'm so happy for him and Anne! Gorgeous couple who are definitely going places. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCiZVg30k2griVppGZSnDf6MrEDZ04PSSCNz7-cFDEDZz8F3UMf3h-0FB_5-dqqUGAucpSFWYpys6Z9TrxAW2Rjkq51d_ie2zTri68rm4nuuA5TOGE-rDcH3swoM5MBcVBC6rC09xnp1KE/s640/blogger-image-996444403.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCiZVg30k2griVppGZSnDf6MrEDZ04PSSCNz7-cFDEDZz8F3UMf3h-0FB_5-dqqUGAucpSFWYpys6Z9TrxAW2Rjkq51d_ie2zTri68rm4nuuA5TOGE-rDcH3swoM5MBcVBC6rC09xnp1KE/s640/blogger-image-996444403.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGYz5ca9hZWtlMt8xRK3L3KLXMrK8L-ah9rBjtv971ONv8Y-IhKwZCZwecg5gy2u53dZzMAA_0j5KX8a1CWW2LypKFJTk7JDMREaMJCqcZYLgsuk9k44L7O1TD7F4y8V884duD247eKD_b/s640/blogger-image-87460762.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGYz5ca9hZWtlMt8xRK3L3KLXMrK8L-ah9rBjtv971ONv8Y-IhKwZCZwecg5gy2u53dZzMAA_0j5KX8a1CWW2LypKFJTk7JDMREaMJCqcZYLgsuk9k44L7O1TD7F4y8V884duD247eKD_b/s640/blogger-image-87460762.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">They have a definite standing invite to come visit any time. Love them!! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Eaton-Farrell-Stolte families also get ridiculously ridiculous. It must be all the sets of twins. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM95WTxvTw7xQDyv9vIg8irfXpYiGHWqR7sarO1NKkKfIqzv9BWc32un2r-luvkBqKVC7gWgL8VpAhRhUWTzxyAhS0LXTtZE9I62vVBTt0mF3LbzTY5s0a6aDM7W5XeCGndIaNYSjKDAyQ/s640/blogger-image-1939551195.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM95WTxvTw7xQDyv9vIg8irfXpYiGHWqR7sarO1NKkKfIqzv9BWc32un2r-luvkBqKVC7gWgL8VpAhRhUWTzxyAhS0LXTtZE9I62vVBTt0mF3LbzTY5s0a6aDM7W5XeCGndIaNYSjKDAyQ/s640/blogger-image-1939551195.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Selfishly enough, one of my favorite parts of the night was dancing with my Daddy to our song - My Girl. We've danced to that song since I was three years old...I'll never get tired of him twirling me around and stepping on my feet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFNZl7HgzmPws74uj8lInKDp3527evaXF-vBvFi2WTFIC257H3nGiTK_UNu1wiFw9RmBUzJic59eQtkfEF2T6vvR8Xd8uH2u9ODlArhdwVXIKv3WUgyjnSnxZLrgEc3ebAo7xeT7QaCUqe/s640/blogger-image--1078823709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFNZl7HgzmPws74uj8lInKDp3527evaXF-vBvFi2WTFIC257H3nGiTK_UNu1wiFw9RmBUzJic59eQtkfEF2T6vvR8Xd8uH2u9ODlArhdwVXIKv3WUgyjnSnxZLrgEc3ebAo7xeT7QaCUqe/s640/blogger-image--1078823709.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">All of the single and/or no-kids cousins had our own table...just like when we were nine. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-FSnlOGfJRCCVERspaXg5WF8-zj3zCZh-rDuun4p2tYGF_mKfxevDCcXpll0CpfjKx-7Giz7K0pvC-UC1fwwOfcT8sQte9EnCDdqz-XtPgJxxTBuY93_PDhRFwVKiZCTyPDT4ooZxUo2/s640/blogger-image--26494965.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-FSnlOGfJRCCVERspaXg5WF8-zj3zCZh-rDuun4p2tYGF_mKfxevDCcXpll0CpfjKx-7Giz7K0pvC-UC1fwwOfcT8sQte9EnCDdqz-XtPgJxxTBuY93_PDhRFwVKiZCTyPDT4ooZxUo2/s640/blogger-image--26494965.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This grown-up version was a <i>lot </i>more fun. </div></div><br></div><div>My super-adorbs niece had her own idea of fun. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhxENxytkR2xzKSD70teJ97y2a9OsCsgDxAQU0UZoypE5CLruyR3eY-dH0wDsn-xG_cQ3h2hPKhyphenhyphenP5RTAUXpDFTU-ZmxzZLlJOLdwA8wW_QBesVCrEyHeDQufHl1hkpnzmxgqrlKvstDLN/s640/blogger-image-180864123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhxENxytkR2xzKSD70teJ97y2a9OsCsgDxAQU0UZoypE5CLruyR3eY-dH0wDsn-xG_cQ3h2hPKhyphenhyphenP5RTAUXpDFTU-ZmxzZLlJOLdwA8wW_QBesVCrEyHeDQufHl1hkpnzmxgqrlKvstDLN/s640/blogger-image-180864123.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"Uncle Matt!! Let's go this way!!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEk2aTF_g6MzGPqa9D55XZMEK71M6YWTLFBPY_pej0tFMFZlRIRAaClm5TLp4scD7e7cVycSsJiA3_PGVHHA22r0n3HJ6adb4fphtayjPDBQ559dbJzsLEzuyBMp27WHWSm7stUn2QSku/s640/blogger-image-152829097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEk2aTF_g6MzGPqa9D55XZMEK71M6YWTLFBPY_pej0tFMFZlRIRAaClm5TLp4scD7e7cVycSsJiA3_PGVHHA22r0n3HJ6adb4fphtayjPDBQ559dbJzsLEzuyBMp27WHWSm7stUn2QSku/s640/blogger-image-152829097.jpg"></a></div><br></div>"Now this way!"</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJW8zuEiv29e8aTHvSMcSUKr74qD4TOfJ_8roUwW0BfWncXoWmkvBtHmKXAUUBhKBvVoed6PqZsRR3ZESZKL4GS0eCqUOOiBd7od7keDRDhTifa8yAEYFmUoo2FGnS_Q4oz8ZvVhV8Qnlb/s640/blogger-image--2006925000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJW8zuEiv29e8aTHvSMcSUKr74qD4TOfJ_8roUwW0BfWncXoWmkvBtHmKXAUUBhKBvVoed6PqZsRR3ZESZKL4GS0eCqUOOiBd7od7keDRDhTifa8yAEYFmUoo2FGnS_Q4oz8ZvVhV8Qnlb/s640/blogger-image--2006925000.jpg"></a></div> </div><div>"Look, Uncle Matt! Horses!"</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1jzjEoijjol7qjUZpU5lIw7_VhIUpawNlMwKp4C31J6WoXkEwnWSahzpqgEU_T8wnqBzwATNcEe_ahjEGYGJPFOyHVeFE2FgiQ5uvi3rwgeCPvwHOUyIChalSFWDf3EsHjOYccSFfgk5h/s640/blogger-image-1481340922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1jzjEoijjol7qjUZpU5lIw7_VhIUpawNlMwKp4C31J6WoXkEwnWSahzpqgEU_T8wnqBzwATNcEe_ahjEGYGJPFOyHVeFE2FgiQ5uvi3rwgeCPvwHOUyIChalSFWDf3EsHjOYccSFfgk5h/s640/blogger-image-1481340922.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">"Look, Uncle Matt! Poop!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7C2Mr-IwfNP3aBJBCSqquVLlnBA0vnjZF2SJ9WQL7e3p-6C8ia_upn1zT5wefC7GHBRg0ESDRPZWX0BCkPLOC4gHlkxPDHLoJ1zEyZUU2FgSU6KP_BnA-eyz-QlJY6OOKrFGjzLaYClrB/s640/blogger-image--880011314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7C2Mr-IwfNP3aBJBCSqquVLlnBA0vnjZF2SJ9WQL7e3p-6C8ia_upn1zT5wefC7GHBRg0ESDRPZWX0BCkPLOC4gHlkxPDHLoJ1zEyZUU2FgSU6KP_BnA-eyz-QlJY6OOKrFGjzLaYClrB/s640/blogger-image--880011314.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Matt: "Look, Adelyn! Soybeans!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFaW8xpM8usNXN8UOl3lBoSgK6kWdvpNr-QyzIQTcwHlDuHcAdNfiyisvQP3jyBzpOVEnQIoR4yDPGsTotC-RvcxxfjlyZ7fuDPFvBrUdeu8p0WLG_bLNJG9ti1Xck15QZGn7BHtjrbBB6/s640/blogger-image--1453915055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFaW8xpM8usNXN8UOl3lBoSgK6kWdvpNr-QyzIQTcwHlDuHcAdNfiyisvQP3jyBzpOVEnQIoR4yDPGsTotC-RvcxxfjlyZ7fuDPFvBrUdeu8p0WLG_bLNJG9ti1Xck15QZGn7BHtjrbBB6/s640/blogger-image--1453915055.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So while Uncle Matt was busy with the children, Erin and I were like, "Look!! A photo booth!!" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj40wXbf2rfHM_9peT3iaZIe6DijdTG4v_xdKHc91333bBuuzmJFiNEGV_38oecddHTr_plIt2ygZi9UCcMmCb3WsRrs75kkDYWiWWBHqsbPNWWQqugssBrqU75U7fIAIHCzhpx0yCQ-ZDb/s640/blogger-image-1754303027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj40wXbf2rfHM_9peT3iaZIe6DijdTG4v_xdKHc91333bBuuzmJFiNEGV_38oecddHTr_plIt2ygZi9UCcMmCb3WsRrs75kkDYWiWWBHqsbPNWWQqugssBrqU75U7fIAIHCzhpx0yCQ-ZDb/s640/blogger-image-1754303027.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Love me some sister time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">You should see the pics mom and dad took. Something about red lips and a fireman helmet...I don't want to know. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So after embarrassing Matt with waaayyyy too much southern-baptist-white-girl dancing, we crashed back at my parents house until the brunch this morning. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Where the tears started. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I tried so, so hard not to. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But I'm a Missouri Girl first and foremost. No matter how much Matt tries to convince me that I really <i>do </i>love 30000 degree temps year-round, well, let's just say the leaves are starting to turn colors and I was able to wear shorts and long sleeves...one of my favorite combos. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Plus the family...my family is nuts. Crazy. Off-the-wall insane. But I am too. We get each other. We can be ridiculous together. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So I burst into tears when I hugged my cousin Libby good-bye. I cried in the car on the way to the airport. I cried again when I hugged my parents in the kiss-and-fly zone. I was still crying when we went through security. Again in the Cardinals store by our gate. Again on the plane. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Matt was starting to get a little concerned. I think he might have even offered to get me another puppy at one point. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But now we're in the car, driving home from the Orlando airport. It's rainy and overcast, but I'm not crying anymore. After a little more than a year in south Florida, it actually feels like home. I cnt wait to get to the house and see the pups. Get back to work tomorrow. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Get back to my box. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">First thing I did when we landed? Checked tomorrow's WOD. (I know!!) It's more thrusters, which I'm still crazy-sore from on Saturday after doing CF in Sullivan. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But this is the first time I really don't care what the workout is. I'm just excited to go see the <i>faces. </i>CF is more than working out. It's a community. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So while I'm missing my family and friends back in Missouri...as completely cheesy and stupid as this sounds...I'm looking forward to seeing the people who encourage me and motivate me and make me feel like I belong despite the fact I'm not a hometown girl. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I don't like feeling alone in a new state- like no one knows me because I didn't grow up here- and Crossfit has truly made me feel like this is now home. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">One can only be so blessed to have families - no matter how they look or act - in so many places around the country (here's looking to you too, Alabama!!)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Ugh. I'm so cheesy. I need to go drink a protein shake and lift something heavy. Good grief. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>Today I love</i>: Matt. No matter if we're in Missouri or Florida or Alabama, he's my one constant that sticks with me across the state lines. Whether he wants to or not. Bahahahahaaaaaaaaa!!! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And the fact that the Cardinals clinched their playoff spot. Merry Clinchmas!! </div></div></div>AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-4742351986801620002013-09-21T10:26:00.004-07:002013-09-21T10:26:43.092-07:00No ExcusesI'm back in my hometown of Sullivan, Missouri this weekend for a family wedding. I haven't been back in about 1 1/2 years, so it's been fun seeing what's changed and all the people I've missed.<br />
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But geez, Daddy. Really????</div>
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First thing: Snuggle with grandpa. </div>
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Then my nieces. </div>
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Then go WOD my butt off because, while I'm trying to stay as paleo as possible, chili mac supreme at Steak n' Shake just had to be ordered. </div>
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I'm so lazy sometimes!!<br />
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But vacation is not an excuse to not WOD!!! <br />
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So hence, lots of running. Hills. Missouri is full of them, Florida is not. <br />
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Uggggghhhhh. <br />
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I forgot all about that. <br />
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My friends Natalie and Kyle have a nice little box in Sullivan, and we did a decent WOD this morning with thrusters, pull-ups and running. Lots of running. </div>
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It felt good for so many reasons, despite my uuuuggggghhhhing about the running. 1) Missouri is sooo much cooler than Florida. WOD's in 57 degrees is a little nicer than 90 degrees. No humidity!! and 2) No one is cooking much this weekend, so eating out has been a challenge. <br />
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How do you eat out and still be paleo? <br />
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Well, for starters, don't go to Steak n' Shake and order the chili mac supreme. With cheese fries. <br />
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The good news is that's been my worst mistake so far. <br />
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Thursday morning on the way to the airport: Protein shake, pumpkin coffee from DD. Snack on the plane: apple, almonds, cashews, dried coconut. Cracker Barrel Thursday night - grilled chicken salad. <br />
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Friday morning: Protein shake, blueberries. Lunch was the Steak n' Shake disaster, but dinner was plain pulled pork, broccoli and salad at my cousin's rehearsal dinner. Not too bad. </div>
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And I have to say, the Walters Family was looking quite amazing last night. </div>
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<div>
<br /></div>
He's not just hot in baseball pants, people. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anyway.<br />
<br />
Today: After the WOD, I downed a couple scrambled eggs and bacon x2. The first mess of bacon I made was stolen by my niece who took a whole handful straight off my plate and ran away yelling, "I want soooommmmeeee!!!" Sure thing, kid. You better run. You're lucky I didn't take your hand off. <br />
<br />
Just kidding. Kind of. <br />
<br />
Stay off my bacon, people. <br />
<br />
The rest of the day is wide open. I always tend to be better at staying on track when I do my workouts - energy and motivation to not ruin what I accomplished. But you know what? I'm not going to beat myself up if I have some wedding cake. I'll just get up tomorrow and run some hills again before we fly back to FL. <br />
<br />
Maybe. Hills are up there with burpees in my opinion. <br />
<br />
But cake. Mmmmmmm. <br />
<br />
<em>Today I love:</em> Thrusters and bacon. Thrusters and bacon. </div>
AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-24082677867744189232013-09-12T04:25:00.000-07:002013-09-12T04:25:09.013-07:00Again TomorrowRob is apparently feeling pretty sadistic this week. <br />
<br />
Crossfit has been <em>ridiculous</em>.<br />
<br />
<strong>Monday:</strong> Front squats, squat sequences, then handstand push-ups, burpees, run. Multiple times. <br />
<br />
Burpees. The bane of my existence.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScyCxkYO1ZX4SpNWWRWRCxnALl2dV5jORgdg8qUkh0qlQGbR3mYOr7LtgbPaZw1uYwfZ1TrCENmfa8C2Khw08KqtmGEHXoKDVHbMQDUlvJxsHTCL85IbBuBs5cLBJThwrn-gdq2kVRYpq/s1600/burpee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScyCxkYO1ZX4SpNWWRWRCxnALl2dV5jORgdg8qUkh0qlQGbR3mYOr7LtgbPaZw1uYwfZ1TrCENmfa8C2Khw08KqtmGEHXoKDVHbMQDUlvJxsHTCL85IbBuBs5cLBJThwrn-gdq2kVRYpq/s320/burpee.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<strong>Tuesday:</strong> ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME????<br />
<br />
We had to do three of the "girls." <br />
<br />
<em>Isabel</em> - 30 snatches. <em>Annie</em>. 50-40-30-20-10 reps of double-unders and sit-ups. <em>Fran</em> - 21-15-9 reps of thrusters and pull-ups.<br />
<br />
All ON THE SAME DAY. <br />
<br />
If we are being realistic and not completely outside our minds, those workouts are typically done one at a time. Separate days. Separate <em>weeks</em>, for that matter. <br />
<br />
I almost died. I almost threw up. I had a very hard time maneuvering my steering wheel on my drive home. I spilled all my water down the front of myself because I couldn't lift my arms to get the bottle up to my face. <br />
<br />
Awesome. <br />
<br />
<strong>Wednesday</strong> - SO, SO glad it was a rest day, because 1) My abdominal muscles decided they hated me from the day before and decided to boycott any further workouts, and 2) There was <em>no way</em> in hades I was getting on that dang Airdyne. Plus sprints. <br />
<br />
<strong>Today</strong>: Another day of pure insanity. 1000m row....then we're expected to do box jumps, push presses, and wall-balls? <br />
<br />
And you all know by now how I feel about wall-balls. <br />
<br />
Let's discuss the box jumps. <br />
<br />
It's taken me a good five months of Crossfit to even come close to having the courage to jump on the box. I stand there and stare at it, hoping I will just magically float on up there and have it over with. <br />
<br />
It's seriously intimidating. <br />
<br />
Especially when Rob is staring at you, almost willing you to not do it so he can make you wear shin guards, because, true - out of everyone in the box, you're the one who will probably miss the edge and scrape the crap out of your shins. <br />
<br />
Conversation this morning: <br />
<br />
Me: "How hard will it be to row with the shin guards on?" <br />
Wendy: "Why are you wearing shin guards?" <br />
Rob, standing there just listening, raises his eyebrows like, <em>"Helllooooo, isn't it obvious??</em>"<br />
Me, pointing to Rob: "Him. That's why."<br />
Wendy, laughing. "Do you want a helmet, too?"<br />
Me: "And elbow pads. And goggles. Probably a couple pillows. I'll be the special kid in gym class today." <br />
<br />
In all honesty, Rob and Wendy are awesome. Great trainers who look out for you - safety and proper form is #1. I like that. Even if I have to wear the dang shin guards. <br />
<br />
So, shin guards and all, I finished the workout without injuring myself or anyone near me. Bonus. <br />
<br />
And yes. My abs are still revolting from two days ago. <br />
<br />
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<br />
Seriously. WHAT THE CRAP was up with Tuesday??? <br />
<br />
You're also probably wondering why the WODs are named after girls. Most CF workouts have a name associated with them for fallen heroes and military personnel. <br />
<br />
As for the girls...<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8OY-MDs4cr2wVLZO0pzhWG6sW_OGHweWC-x9X9oKfp-XcRR_3kIMrd3gFHNNvSzCrBermrfPqwhey6RS5GZ14N79onizdzjMkirFxM5ZqW8Blg60SJ0zLeu1IAUxG48FgCjpvkoq0k-Q6/s1600/girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8OY-MDs4cr2wVLZO0pzhWG6sW_OGHweWC-x9X9oKfp-XcRR_3kIMrd3gFHNNvSzCrBermrfPqwhey6RS5GZ14N79onizdzjMkirFxM5ZqW8Blg60SJ0zLeu1IAUxG48FgCjpvkoq0k-Q6/s320/girls.jpg" width="289" /></a></div>
<br />
Nice, boys. <br />
<br />
But after all that ridiculousness, all the insanity, all the sweat dripping into your contacts and making them burn, you still walk away feeling like you did something great. <br />
<br />
While most people are still in bed. <br />
<br />
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Speaking of tomorrow, I think it's time for another Paleo challenge. Not tomorrow, but I'm thinking about doing it again in the next few weeks or so. I haven't fully gotten back on track since vacation, and I need to rein everything back in. </div>
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Last night I really wanted soup and some bread for dinner, and I ended up splitting half a loaf of french bread with the dogs, because with me and bread, I just can't have it in the house or I will eat all of it. ALL OF IT. Uggghhhh. I felt like JUNK afterwards. I started getting shaky, like I do with carbohydrates and my stupid low blood sugar. I can't keep doing that and expect to have good workouts. </div>
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So, I'm going to be putting together some better plans in the next few weeks. Anyone want to join me? </div>
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AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-64436169428708240012013-09-09T14:50:00.002-07:002013-09-09T14:50:53.754-07:00Weird<em>Disclaimer: This post is weird. Very weird. I hope it's not offensive. This is just me, being me, about growing up in a funeral home. We were serious when we needed to be. Other times, well, when you grow up around something it just becomes part of you. Let me know what you think. So here we go.</em> <br />
<br />
So. Some of you newer blog followers sent me some messages about my last post - namely, the part where I mentioned I grew up around death. <br />
<br />
Yeah, I should probably explain that to you who don't know me very well. <br />
<br />
Funeral Home Girl. <br />
<br />
That's me. <br />
<br />
It freaked all the kids out at school, who thought I was weird and scary and bizarre. <br />
<br />
Bizarre, sure. But weird and scary? <br />
<br />
Come on. <br />
<br />
Just because my sister and I played hide-and-seek in the casket room and had full-on funerals for our Barbies after sending them to their deaths (Sis - remember Boulder Barbie? Microwave Barbie? Convertible of Death Barbie?) doesn't mean we're weird. <br />
<br />
Ok. Maybe just a little. <br />
<br />
One of my friend's dad's owned a car dealership - she had her favorite car picked out<br />
<br />
Me? The golden oak casket with the pink and purple quilt design in it. <br />
<br />
Or cryogenics. Or donating my body to science. <br />
<br />
All acceptable dinnertable conversations. <br />
<br />
Dinnertable conversations - in between dad taking bites of spaghetti (with his tie flipped over his shoulder and wearing a dishcloth so sauce wouldn't get on his dress shirt) between running back and forth from the kitchen to the funeral home lobby during visitation nights. <br />
<br />
Visitation nights - nights when I got out of practicing the piano because the family paying their respects next door could hear it through the wall. <br />
<br />
No running up and down the stairs during visitations, either.<br />
<br />
No crazy, colorful Christmas lights all over the house. Just very tasteful and respectful candles in the windows and greenery around all of the columns outside. <br />
<br />
No sidewalk chalk on the sidewalk in <em>front</em> of the house - the sidewalk leading to the funeral home entrance. The back driveway was ok...that was the loading and unloading area. I used to ride my bike on the ramp. <br />
<br />
Generations of family has lived in my childhood home. My room used to be my cousin Laura's room, and before that, it was my Auntie Mary Eleanor's. Now, whenever my sister and her family visit my parents, my niece Adelyn uses that same room. <br />
<br />
Circle of life. <br />
<br />
In any case, we knew when to be respectful, and we knew when it was ok to laugh. <br />
<br />
Like when dad would use his skull from mortuary school to help decorate the basement for our Halloween parties. <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPbFob7BhKPEKb8kXG4Cw6I-xMO2ntptr8hvVnxXxmwUQeTcF8lL3HRh8eGkbaEHNRRlaJYTb4XB89YYva9to-bt6UDqEJUVLruyHYR2WnLSWbOrpChwZapw7tTj7TVno-ivYz_grLQ3O1/s640/blogger-image-1423763397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPbFob7BhKPEKb8kXG4Cw6I-xMO2ntptr8hvVnxXxmwUQeTcF8lL3HRh8eGkbaEHNRRlaJYTb4XB89YYva9to-bt6UDqEJUVLruyHYR2WnLSWbOrpChwZapw7tTj7TVno-ivYz_grLQ3O1/s320/blogger-image-1423763397.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<em></em><br />
<em></em><em>"This is what happens when you smoke, kids."</em> <br />
<br />
Which is why I've never smoked. Or went out drinking...no ethical or moral dilemma with that one, just the memory of seeing a cirrhosis-y liver when I was nine. <br />
<br />
Thanks, Dad. <br />
<br />
Father-daughter dates consisted of Taco Bell on the way to the St. Louis County medical examiner's office. I think my sister lost her Taco Bell after seeing a foot in a bucket at the morgue, which promptly ended her trips with dad. But to me...<br />
<br />
It. Was. Awesome. <br />
<br />
I wanted to grow up and <em>be</em> Dr. Mary Case - the forensic medical examiner who took time out of her busy day to let me hold <em>an actual human brain</em>...one of eight she had lined up in buckets filled with a saline solution on a stainless steel counter. Everything was so clean and precise and fascinating. Dr. Case had me hold that amazing brain and name every single part, since that happened to be the part of human anatomy I was studying in college at the time. <br />
<br />
Maybe also why I looked a little too excited in high school anatomy. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<em>(Picture of me smiling with my lab partner and our dissected cat deleted. Just picture the innards of a cat and an awesome 90's perm with poofy bangs. There you go.)</em></div>
<br />
Everywhere I go, when people find out where I grew up, it never fails to lead to all sorts of questions. <br />
<br />
Like, "Have you ever worked with your dad?"<br />
<br />
Um, hello. Who did he have running all over town to get death certificates signed at doctor's offices the minute she turned 16 and got her driver's license? <br />
<br />
Better yet, who got to learn how to drive...in a hearse? <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxnKRcuGLBO1RCjYtul3X98P7vsf2fKsJ4OBWZUBhBjw7qxlGamygVYN2Lo4JOWlhc1TJ77QPNdsCqeTBcfppv0Dw1Vj9QC9u8_03VG7DJlPL5ufJ7qFTacFco6ZxuU_MOdqqxkofHRySp/s1600/FD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxnKRcuGLBO1RCjYtul3X98P7vsf2fKsJ4OBWZUBhBjw7qxlGamygVYN2Lo4JOWlhc1TJ77QPNdsCqeTBcfppv0Dw1Vj9QC9u8_03VG7DJlPL5ufJ7qFTacFco6ZxuU_MOdqqxkofHRySp/s320/FD.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
With another totally fashionable early 90's hairstyle while wearing a white turtleneck under what could only possibly be my grandmother's pink sweatshirt? <br />
<br />
Man, I was awesome. <br />
<br />
Who also, while learning to drive in a hearse, ran over a curb in front of a parking lot full of people at the Assembly of God church right after a post-funeral luncheon? <br />
<br />
My other favorite question: "Weren't you ever scared?"<br />
<br />
Of what? What in the world is there to be scared of? If anything, our house was always just nice and quiet. There are no ghosts. No ghouls. No scary noises at night...unless you count dad snoring so loud that the walls shook. <br />
<br />
Dad also used the business to promote non-funeral events. <br />
<br />
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<br />
Nothing like the Funeral Home marquee in the front yard announcing your personal life to the entire town of Sullivan. <br />
<br />
Plus your mother making you all pose for multiple pictures while everyone driving by slowed to look.<br />
<br />
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Me and my girls. The first time they ever spent the night, I think they were a little freaked. I also think seeing my dad walk around in his underdrawers contributed to that. </div>
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Good times. </div>
<br />
No one likes to talk about death, but we sure are curious about the behind-the-scenes aspect of it. <br />
<br />
So bring your questions. I'm obviously not shy. <br />
<br />
Grew up around death. Worked with my dad around it. Now helping comfort others as they make their journey towards it. <br />
<br />
My life...consisting of end-of-life issues from birth to...well, you know. <br />
<br />
<em><strong>Today I love:</strong></em> Being ok with being weird. Being ok with talking about the hard stuff. Being ok with eating a full meal while talking about the <a href="http://fac.utk.edu/" target="_blank">University of Tennessee Anthropological Research Facility</a> (aka "The Body Farm) and/or reading "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Stiff-Curious-Lives-Human-Cadavers/dp/0393324826" target="_blank"><em>Stiff</em>: <em>The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers</em></a>" (a really, really good read). <br />
<br />
I know. I know. We've already established the fact that I'm weird. AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-47911626556396579782013-09-02T17:06:00.001-07:002013-09-05T15:29:55.432-07:00GratefulI'm feeling like I'm in a serious, reflective mood tonight - might be the storms, might be the couple patients of mine that I can't stop thinking about that might not make it to the end of the week. <br />
<br />
Life. Fragile. One shot. <br />
<br />
So here's what's been on my mind lately. <br />
<br />
When I first started nursing, I thought I was going to save the world. <br />
<div>
</div>
<div>
CPR. ALS. Codes. Adrenaline. </div>
<br />
I slowly become less scared of people who came onto my floor mid-heart attack. <br />
<br />
I learned to administer morphine. Adjust IV fluids. Interpret EKGs and telemetry monitors. <br />
<br />
How to prep them for stents or open-heart procedures. <br />
<br />
I slowly became less scared of codes - especially with my team of awesome nurses back in Mississippi. We worked so well together that we could just look at each other and know what each other was thinking. And the doctors...my first code consisted of our ER doctor telling me, "The only way you're going to learn is to get on up there!" He coached me through the chest compressions with patience and understanding. <br />
<br />
I loved it. Loved loved loved my heart patients.<br />
<br />
But roughly six months ago I decided to switch specialties. <br />
<br />
A specialty that's usually met with a sad face and an "oh, how hard/sad/awful" response. <br />
<br />
I'm a Hospice nurse. <br />
<br />
I also like to think of it as being a geriatric and end-of-life care specialist. <br />
<br />
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<br />
Not everyone can do it. <br />
<br />
Not everyone can face death every day. <br />
<br />
Not everyone can come to terms with the fact that death doesn't mean a medical failure.<br />
<br />
What do I do as a hospice RN? <br />
<ul>
<li>As a Case Manager, I manage medications, diets, wound care, therapy, equipment, appointments, tests, caregivers and CNA's for my patients. I oversee every single aspect of their care. I work closely with our social workers and chaplains. We are a team, and it's a fabulous one. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I get to be a support to families. I get to watch the weight lift off their shoulders when I explain to them the disease process and what signs and symptoms to watch for - things that people in the hospital were too nervous to talk about. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I get to assess and care for patients who are critical - without the support of an on-site team. My hospital is in the trunk of my car...that's where I carry all of my supplies, my syringes, my wound care bandages, my catheters, my oxygen tubing. Being a road RN means you better make sure you're assessment skills are 110% - because it's you and you alone making the call on what you see when you walk into that house. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I have to prove myself as a competent and knowledgeable nurse to our hospice physicians. Like I mentioned above, I have to know my stuff forwards and backwards in order to call the doctors for new orders - whether it be to transfer a patient to the Hospice House for inpatient care, start Crisis Care inside the home, or calculate pill vs. liquid vs. injectable narcotics if my patients can't swallow anymore. If your doctor trusts you, it goes a long way when you call them sixteen times a day on your symptomatic patient. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Speaking of, just because a patient is on hospice doesn't mean we just sit back and wait for them to die. If they start to have shortness of breath, we're in there with oxygen, nebs, breathing treatments, morphine, etc. so they're not struggling. If their pain is out of control, despite the pain meds their on, we're in there adjusting dosages or adding meds for breakthrough until we can get them comfortable. A lot of my patients come onto our service completely alert and oriented, so many of my visits consist of education and keeping them stable as long as their bodies allow. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>I get to be present with my families in their most raw and emotional moments. I'm the one they rely on to pronounce the time of death of their loved one. I'm the one comforting the family, bathing the body, calling the funeral home, getting all the paperwork done...all the family has to do is, well, whatever they want. One family of mine made calls to other family members to inform them of the death, then they sat back, broke out the photo albums and bottles of wine. They were able to reminisce and talk about their loved one without the stress of having to take care of arrangements and paperwork and waiting for the funeral home to show up - that's what I was there to do. </li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv5fwB1ihTp4OesMs5H1xfwLIHKeK4YalpyHzH092ZYttDX5gKe3v-YXGn4431yVr4L5dVTgOB5UwRo1VlT6zQvhV97-t-UM3hAQEK_rFR58cDGEjCtVkVhJJqLuwyk93nHe99uzO9q40h/s1600/Important.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv5fwB1ihTp4OesMs5H1xfwLIHKeK4YalpyHzH092ZYttDX5gKe3v-YXGn4431yVr4L5dVTgOB5UwRo1VlT6zQvhV97-t-UM3hAQEK_rFR58cDGEjCtVkVhJJqLuwyk93nHe99uzO9q40h/s320/Important.jpg" width="234" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>People are people. People are <em>not</em> a diagnosis. I refuse to go into someone's house and treat them like a cancer patient. An ALS patient. An Alzheimer's patient. By coming onto hospice, they're telling me they're done with treatments and chemo and millions of pills - they just want to feel like a human again in their own house. So you know what? We do that. We sit and talk and laugh (Yes! We laugh!) and just try to live as normal as the disease process allows. Yes, there are going to be days that aren't as pleasant. There are days you have to have your game face on and get down to business. But you also look your patient in the eyes, don't talk over them, don't talk down to them. You smile, you talk about grandkids and pets and favorite vacation places. It's all about creating relationships and trust. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
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I love my job. I think the best decision I ever made was getting out of the mad-house hospital and get into Hospice. I grew up around death. I'm comfortable with the subject. I feel like I've found a specialty I'm good at.<br />
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Hospice just reminds me that we're all headed somewhere. Life is fragile, and can end in so many different ways. We don't get to choose, but we can decide how we respond to those situations. I've seen every emotion on my patients and families faces - anger, denial, peace, acceptance, rage, combativeness, love, grief. Hospice is definitely emotional - maybe why I've turned to this blog tonight to get out some of my feelings. <br />
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Thanks for letting me get it out. <br />
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<em><strong>Today I love</strong></em>: Being able to walk. Being able to eat. Being able to hug my husband and pet my dogs. Life. Living. Purpose. <br />
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<br />AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-29651326116801440542013-08-31T14:49:00.001-07:002013-08-31T14:49:10.901-07:00On the Water<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
I'm one of those annoyingly cheerful morning people...usually. Minus the 4am-get-up-for-crossfit sort of situations.</div>
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But when it comes to being outside, I like to hit the water/pavement/trail as soon as the sunrise starts to pink up the sky in the early morning. <br />
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We made plans last night to get up early this morning to take the kayaks out, and we planned a tentative 9am departure. Matt told me, "Whenever you want to go, that's fine."<br />
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Did he ever rue the day he spoke those words. <br />
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So obviously, I was up at 5:30 with the dogs, made some coffee, did my devotional, cleaned the kitchen, worked on our September menu and grocery list, took a shower, repainted my toenails...then bounced on the bed at 7:30 to wake the Sleeping Giant. <br />
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Actually, I shoved a dog in his face. Licks up the nose always get you out of bed quickly. <br />
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After Matt completely woke up and got ready, we had the kayaks strapped in and ready to go by 8:30.<br />
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Eeeekkk!! The official Christening of the Kayaks. <br />
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Location of choice: Round Island. <br />
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Why: It's pretty, it reminds me of the wooded, nature-y areas of the Lake of the Ozarks back in Missouri, and you are pretty much guaranteed to see manatees and dolphins. <br />
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No problem with the launch. It was a gorgeous morning with a fabulous light breeze coming off the water. <br />
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However. <br />
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The jumping fish. <br />
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Jumping fish <em>everywhere</em>. Every. Where. Everywhere. <br />
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Have I ever mentioned a million times that I'm terrified of fish? <br />
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The fish this morning were <em>out of control</em>. It was ridiculous. <br />
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If they had even tried to jump in my kayak, you would have seen the Miracle of Addie running on the water to get the crap out of there. <br />
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So I just paddled faster to get away from that nonsense. <br />
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Gorgeous morning in the coves of the Intercoastal...</div>
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Showing off my mad kayaking skills. </div>
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No sore arms here, thanks to the insane amount of rowing we do at crossfit seventeen million times a week. </div>
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But then....</div>
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What the what??</div>
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Oh, hello, Mr. Manatee!</div>
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We were just gliding along, minding our own business, when we heard this big whooooshhh!!! right next to us. </div>
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Just a little ol' manatee coming up for a breather. </div>
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By Florida law, you are not allowed to touch the manatee, and you seriously try to avoid them at all cost. But according to the nice Fish and Wildlife Guy we talked to this morning, there's nothing you can do about it if the manatees - who are super-friendly and very curious by nature - come up to you on their own. </div>
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You just sit there and pray they don't knock your kayak over and let them do their thing. </div>
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He was so fun. This guy went back and forth between Matt and I for a good five minutes, like a puppy. </div>
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He would disappear into the water, then pop up right next to us when we least expected it, scaring the pee out of us in the process.</div>
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<em>Me</em>: It's just a manatee! A mammal. It won't hurt you. </div>
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<em>Matt</em>: Um, a bear is a mammal too, thank you very much. </div>
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Anyway. </div>
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The puppy/manatee eventually swam off after realizing we were not going to feed him (also illegal, but we've heard they love lettuce), and no kayaks were tipped in the process. Score. </div>
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Awesome morning. Now to wash off all the salt water...</div>
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<em><strong>Today I love:</strong></em> Kayaks. Water. Manatees. Gorgeous Florida mornings. Coffee. Always the coffee. </div>
<br />AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-53359827803985011732013-08-24T05:14:00.000-07:002013-08-24T05:14:13.090-07:00FranticAfter last week's unmotivational-only-went-to-crossfit-twice *shame* week, I feel like I more than made up for it this week. <br />
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My usual week, when I'm firing on all cylinders, looks like this: <br />
<br />
Monday - Crossfit<br />
Tuesday - Crossfit<br />
Wednesday - Rest<br />
Thursday - Crossfit<br />
Friday - Crossfit<br />
Saturday - Run, walk dogs with friends, swim, beach, kayak...basically do something outside that's fun and active. No schedule. <br />
Sunday - Rest<br />
<br />
Today is still wide open...we really want to take the kayaks out to the intercoastal, but sweet mother of puppies, it's just miserably hot outside lately. I'm thinking 50000000 squats with a medicine ball in my air-conditioned living room while HGTV is on sounds so much better. <br />
<br />
Plus, construction has officially started up again in our subdivision, and the first thing they're working on is rehabbing the clubhouse and pool. So...no pool this weekend. <br />
<br />
Sad. You can't not have a pool in Florida in August! It's a necessity, people. <br />
<br />
The weather guy actually used the phrase "so humid it will be hard to breathe" this morning.<br />
<br />
Awesome. <br />
<br />
Just one more reason for CF at insane hours of the morning - it's not blazing hot yet, and when we have to run, I can hide my jiggly bits in the darkness of the pre-dawn. <br />
<br />
Yesterday was slightly ridiculous...I had pre-planned to go into work late because of a doctor's appointment, so I was going to try to sleep in and go to CF around 7am instead of 5. So what happens? I wake up at 4:03, wide-eyed and ready to go. I hadn't even had coffee yet, and I was bouncing out of bed. I decided to just go ahead and go to CF at 5...those are my people anyway.<br />
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Thursday was kettlebell day. <br />
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Despite the fact that I look dead, it was awesome. We started the workout with a 1500 meter row, which meant that after setting my arms on fire with the kettlebell, it was difficult to reach up and wash my hair thirty minutes later. <br />
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But still. Awesome. <br />
<br />
Adding in some running on my off days has brought back the ever-popular shin splints. It's not as bad as when I was marathon training, but it's just enough of an annoyance that I can feel it when I walk up and down stairs. I found some shin/calf compression sleeves I want to try...and they come in purple. Bonus. <br />
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You know that doctor's appointment I mentioned I had yesterday? It was for these headaches I've been having for 3+ weeks now. My arms and legs have been tingling at odd times throughout the day too, so I decided to get it checked out. <br />
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Result - tension from stress. Really? Me? Stressed? You've got to be kidding. <br />
<br />
Sarcasm is in full force here, by the way. <br />
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Good news: <br />
<ul>
<li>Crossfit has brought my BP down. It's never been bad, usually 120ish/70. Yesterday I was 110/60. Nice. </li>
<li>I'm down 10 lbs since my last appointment. </li>
<li>When I told my doctor my paleo/primal eating plan, he <em>loved</em> it. I thought he might freak when I told him no grains and very, very minimal dairy, but he said that was perfect. He told me he's a huge advocate of shopping the perimeter of the store - stay away from the processed junk in the middle. All that stuff labeled "low fat" or "low calorie" just has chemicals for fillers anyway. So yay! </li>
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Bad news:<br />
<ul>
<li>Despite all the workouts and good eating, I'm still stressed - emotionally and physically. I'm not allowing my muscles to fully relax, and I'm staying tensed up throughout the day. Since my muscles aren't getting the chance to chill out, they're firing off triggers which is causing the tingling and headaches. </li>
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Also bad news: no real treatment, except learning how to relax and take time for me. <br />
<br />
I don't know how to describe it, other than this frantic feeling I have all the time. I need to do this, that, this, that, this...Doc told me to chill on my color-coded calendars and my lists that have lists (that have lists). My day/week/month is planned down to the hour...my days broken down in boxes that just <em>have</em> to be done. <br />
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I feel like I have to rush <em>all the time</em>. I have to get through <em>this</em> to get to <em>that</em>. I have a hard time slowing down to just enjoy the moment I'm in. <br />
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OCD/perfectionist much? <br />
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My mom mentioned the word "neurotic." <br />
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That's me! <br />
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I'm going to try to relax today and not make any plans. But uuuggghhhh, how's this? I already have plans to look for new paleo recipes, go through my paleo cookbooks and make a list of new recipes to try. I want to get a jump-start on our monthly menu and grocery list. <br />
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It's the lists again!! <br />
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But I love my notebooks - I have so many notebooks and journals and colored pens and sticky tabs that mom said she and my sister are about ready to stage an intervention - and the organization that goes into all of my lists and things to do. I'm so paranoid that if I don't write it down, I'll forget it. <br />
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This picture was from last year...the collection has definitely grown. <br />
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At this point Matt just turns a blind eye to all my sticky notes and lists on the fridge. Half the time I just take them down and re-write them anyway if I don't like my handwriting or if I have to cross something off. <br />
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Ugh. I need help. Short of using a high-powered tranquilizer, what do you all do to relax? Anyone else feel this way? Am I alone here? AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-11296046651413865832013-08-15T15:52:00.001-07:002013-08-15T15:52:28.509-07:00CrossFit ConfessionI have a confession. <br />
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I almost quit crossfit this week. <br />
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I know. <em>I KNOW!!!</em><br />
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Two reasons. <br />
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1. We had water dripping from our upstairs bathroom through our dining room ceiling.<br />
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2. My motivation was absolutely nowhere to be found. <br />
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Sometimes you just hit a wall, you know? You think to yourself, <em>I'm never going to be able to do a rope climb. My arms look too flabby in my workout tanks. Who in the world do I think I am to be able to do more than a 70# clean?</em><br />
<br />
Never mind the fact I could barely lift the 15# bar when I first started...the fact that I've come that far never entered my mind. <br />
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It was a grumpy. poopy, self-centered week. <br />
<br />
Sorry, Matt. <br />
<br />
I skipped workouts on Monday, because I was off work. I did run 3.12 miles, but that doesn't count. I didn't make it to the box. <br />
<br />
I dragged myself in on Tuesday, and actually did pretty well. It was kettlebell day, and everyone knows what that means. No skipping, because I'm awesome at kettlebells. I rock the kettlebells. I love the kettlebells!! Then I ran another 3 miles with a friend after work, which helped get out the soreness from squats and kettlebell swings and toes-to-bar. <br />
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Wednesday, no workout. Cause Wednesday is a rest day, despite the fact I've only made it to crossfit once this week so far. <br />
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Once again, I know. I'm lame. <br />
<br />
Then...<br />
<br />
Today's WOD was posted last night. They always do a little blog post along with it, and it<em> KICKED MY BUTT</em>. I <em>needed</em> this blog post. How did they know? They must have sensed a dropped membership flashing through my mind. <br />
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<em>There is a saying that “CrossFit is for everyone, but not everyone is cut out for CrossFit.”</em></div>
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<em>Because we can modify and scale, you don’t have to necessarily be a great athlete to succeed at CrossFit. Yet, we’ve seen people, regardless of ability, come and go.</em></div>
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<em>Most of you reading this have made it. So, what is it that has made you stay? What does a person need to “have” to excel at CrossFit</em>?</div>
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Uuuhhhhgggggg. Really? Break my heart, people!! <br />
<br />
So after a good talk with Rob (trainer, stink-eye extraordinaire) this morning, I was back on track.<br />
<br />
Forget about the waterfall coming through the ceiling, I cannot, <em>cannot</em> quit crossfit. <br />
<br />
Actually, the water leak was easily fixed after patching some chipped grout in the shower. Problem solved for less than my crossfit membership. So yay. <br />
<br />
Want to read some of the responses to the crossfit post? Click <a href="http://crossfitverobeach.com/august-15-2013/#comments" target="_blank">HERE</a> for some ridiculous motivation. <br />
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So, to sum it up, I'm not quitting. <br />
<br />
Matt likes me better when I'm all high on exercise endorphins anyway.<br />
<br />
<em>Exercise produces endorphins. </em><br />
<em>Endorphins make you happy. </em><br />
<em>And happy people just don't kill their husbands. ~ Legally Blond</em><br />
<em></em><br />
I also found a new breakfast. It is paleo, delicious, and made everyone at work look at me like I was insane. <br />
<br />
I love green smoothies. I found a <a href="http://paleomg.com/21dsd-creamy-green-apple-smoothie/" target="_blank">paleo version on PaleOMG</a>, and just tweaked it a bit. <br />
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Green apple, spinach, lemon juice, almond milk, water, flax and half an avocado. </div>
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Knuke loves avocados. </div>
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Blend. Enjoy. Gross people out at your desk at work. </div>
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It didn't keep me 100% full until lunch, but I felt clean and happy that I was getting a freaking ton of fruits and veggies in for breakfast. <br />
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<em>Today I love:</em> Vanilla Maple coffee from fresh market and a stormy evening for relaxing and reading.</div>
AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-6718947973242831912013-08-11T06:53:00.001-07:002013-08-11T06:53:05.933-07:00Well, Butter my Biscuit!Today is a great day. <br />
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I've been woken up the past couple weeks by a husband who's first words have been "Guess won again???"<br />
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I'm so tired of that question, posed in such an annoying, sing-song sort of way. It makes me want to punch people. <br />
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That's why today is such a great day. <br />
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The Braves <em>finally</em> lost. <br />
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Haha! There's not much MLB love in our house. Cardinal fans and Braves fans are pretty much destined to drive each other crazy.<br />
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Speaking of crazy, I would also like to take this opportunity to thank south Florida for the overabundance of pollen and humidity that has given me a raging headache for the past week-and-a-half. I've felt so un-motivated to do anything crossfit/paleo related, because every time I stand up I see sparklies and my head starts pounding. Not cool. <br />
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However, despite last week's daily headache I still made it to CF three times, and went running two of the other days. Nothing major, just 2-milers here and there. The headache is still hanging around today, which is a little discouraging. Here's to hoping my Tylenol severe migraine decides to finally work. <br />
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Because...<br />
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This week starts half-marathon training for my run in December. I'm starting training a few weeks early just to get back in the habit of running since I haven't put in any serious mileage in about a bazillion years. <br />
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I'm doing the St. Jude Half Marathon to help raise money for the kids...if you want to check out my page and my story of why I think this is important, you can check it out <a href="http://fundraising.stjude.org/site/TR/Heroes/Heroes?px=2241216&pg=personal&fr_id=4820" target="_blank">HERE.</a> I wouldn't say no to a few donations, either. 100% of the money raised goes back to St. Jude...wonderful cause, if you ask me. <br />
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My new running shoes are ready to go! Dog approved and everything.<br />
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I'm also branching out in my paleo creations. I love my <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Primal-Cravings-favorite-foods-Paleo/dp/0984755195/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376226241&sr=8-1&keywords=primal+cravings" target="_blank"><em>Primal Cravings</em></a> cookbook, and I'm anxiously awaiting the arrival of a new cookbook called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Against-All-Grain-Delectable-Recipes/dp/1936608367/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376226278&sr=8-1&keywords=against+all+grain" target="_blank"><em>Against All Grain</em></a>. <br />
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<em>Primal Cravings</em> is awesome. It's definitely not for the 100% pure paleo people...I've discovered there are hard-core paleoists out there who believe in just eating as natural as possible. <br />
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Meat. Vegetables. Healthy fats. Fruits and nuts and seeds. No paleo baking, paleo dressings, paleo casseroles. Because how would the cavemen have access to make things like that? <br />
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Also, we can take into consideration <em>paleo</em> vs. <em>primal</em>. The primal school of thought is that dairy is ok, as long as it's grass-fed and as pure as possible. You can't just go and throw a gallon of your skim in your cart...that milk has been over-processed with color and preservatives and sugar added. Do some research and buy as close to the farm as possible. <br />
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Pure, unadulterated paleo is amazing if you can do that and stick with it forever and ever. I will be the first person to admit that I get crazy-bored with things like that - I love to bake and create and cook.<br />
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Paleo cookies? I'm ok with that. I mean, sure, don't eat the whole pan at once, but allowing one after a five-mile training run isn't going to kill me. And if it does, well, I can think of worse things than death by dark chocolate. <br />
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So recipe number one I wanted to try from <em>Primal Cravings</em> was some good ol' simple biscuits. Growing up, I never had biscuits for breakfast. My parents were more of the pancakes, French toast and cereal people. It wasn't until I married my Southern husband that biscuits for breakfast were introduced into my life. I don't want them often, but it's a nice change from the monotony of eggs. Which I don't even like. <br />
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For the biscuits, I needed <a href="http://www.bobsredmill.com/organic-coconut-flour.html" target="_blank">coconut flour</a> and <a href="http://www.bobsredmill.com/tapioca-flour.html" target="_blank">tapioca flour</a>. Coconut flour I have, but I'd never heard of tapioca flour. Completely plant-related, it's a grain-free flour made from the cassava plant. <br />
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Luckily, our local Fresh Market had plenty in stock. <br />
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Along with several other things I needed, like Vanilla Maple whole coffee beans and fresh, dry-flaked coconut. </div>
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Necessities, people. <br />
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So I made the biscuits this morning. Fairly easy (and messy - it's literally all by hand) to make, they baked fast in our gas oven in about 16 minutes. <br />
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So pretty. <br />
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When you're used to the usual American processed, white-flour diet, things made with new types of flours are going to take a little getting used to.<br />
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These biscuits are good, but it took me a couple bites to get used to it. The combo of the coconut and tapioca flours gives the biscuit a sweet, nutty flavor. The exterior of the biscuit resembled one of those pecan sandies - a little bit of crispness that kind of fell apart in your mouth. The inside was chewy, not too dense. Best served with a little grass-fed butter and a drizzle of honey. <br />
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I ate it with bacon. <br />
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Obviously. <br />
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The whole recipe made eight biscuits, so I have plenty left over for breakfast the rest of the week. <br />
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Matt did not try one. He was scared. <br />
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That's ok. We made tacos on Friday and he didn't know I used mostly ground turkey. Bahahahaha!! He'll find out only if he reads this post...I'm the <em>best</em> <em>wife ever</em>!!!<br />
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<em><strong>Today I love:</strong></em> Tylenol Severe Migraine with caffeine, with an extra side of caffeine from my vanilla maple coffee. </div>
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AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-15809533653981299502013-08-03T07:03:00.001-07:002013-08-03T07:03:05.020-07:00St. Lucia Vacation Recap 2013So most of you know by now, since I've only been talking about it for the past several months, that we went to St. Lucia to celebrate our 10 year anniversary. <div>
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Yep. 10 years. Well, technically 9.5, but being married to a teacher means you can't take a week off in November since schools generally frown upon their educators jaunting off to other countries right before finals. </div>
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I know, right? </div>
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So during the hottest part of the summer, we leave one sweltering, humid mess for another sweltering, humid mess. St. Lucia is very similar to south Florida...the bugs, the heat, the palm trees, the crazy traffic. The big difference is that traffic drives on the left side of the road and life is just...slower. </div>
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No pressure, no problems! That's the motto. </div>
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I like it. </div>
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So anyway, we stayed at <a href="http://www.sandals.com/main/halcyon/ha-home.cfm" target="_blank">Sandals Halcyon</a>. It was gorgeous! So private and quiet, very different than the other Sandals resorts on the island that are bigger and geared more towards parties and nightlife. </div>
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My nightlife revolves around pajamas and some HGTV at 9pm. I'm a party animal, people. </div>
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We had a little walkout cottage that faced the water, and the one thing I loved about Halcyon was all of the gardens - you could hide behind all of the flowering trees and just drink your coffee and watch the sun come up. </div>
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This was my favorite tree, and I'm determined to plant one in our backyard: </div>
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There was a beach, but we didn't really spend much time on it. All of the beaches in St. Lucia are public, no matter what resort sits on it. So therefore, there are little beach hagglers - men that will come up to you and try to sell you their homemade souvenirs and give you island advice. They are incredibly hard to deter - we found that by telling them we had already bought something from the guy a couple steps down the beach they would then leave us alone. After being there for a week, they got to know our faces and stopped trying to sell us anything. Success!! </div>
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I know they meant well. I know they probably have families to support. St. Lucia, for all it's beauty and all-inclusive resorts, is still a third-world country. Lots of poverty. No middle class - only the super-rich and the super-poor. Everyone is haggling for a handout. </div>
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Next mission trip location? </div>
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I know. I'm at a five-star resort, and all I can think about is going into the local villages to hand out medications and read bible stories to the kids. Sigh. Maybe someday. </div>
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Ok. Sorry. Back to the vacation where we were supposed to be relaxing. It's hard, you know? Matt kept saying the hardest part was not having a watch or any way to know what time it was...we're so used to schedules and plans. The first several days we honestly had to force ourselves to take it easy and not schedule out the whole week. </div>
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However, we did have several side trips planned. We went on a tour of the <a href="http://www.saintluciarums.com/about-sld.html" target="_blank">St. Lucia Distillery</a> - rum aside, it was a fun, educational trip (I know, we're lame) that taught us the history of sugar cane trading in the West Indies. The island's sugarcane fields are now banana plantations, so they import molasses from Guyana to make the rum. Maybe it's because I love the behind-the-scenes shows on Food Network, but I really thought the entire process from molasses to barrel was pretty great. </div>
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Banana plantations: </div>
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We also got to tour <a href="http://www.marigotbay.com/" target="_blank">Marigot Bay</a>, where the original Dr. Doolittle was filmed. </div>
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This is where part of Pirates of the Caribbean was filmed: </div>
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Which immediately made us want to watch all the Pirates movies again. </div>
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Side Trip #2 was my favorite - 4-wheeler rides through the rain forest and along the beach. </div>
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I'm a midwestern girl...what's not to love about this? </div>
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For a snack, our guides literally climbed the coconut trees to get us something to drink. That coconut water was seriously the most 100% paleo thing I had on vacation.</div>
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They also used their machetes to chop open some dried coconut to eat. I've never had it that fresh before, and it tasted so good. </div>
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I don't know what Matt thought about the machetes, but I loved it. It reminded me of all of the people I met in Panama and Honduras...I'm so in love with other cultures!</div>
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Side Trip #3 scared the bejeezus out of me. </div>
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We went snorkeling. </div>
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Me: "I had two little panic attacks."</div>
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Matt: "No, you had one gigantic panic attack!"</div>
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You know how some people are scared of snakes and spiders? </div>
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That's me with sea life. </div>
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The long, scary fish will EAT MY LEGS OFF!!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdi_a9ukF6LDpdG5boSj7glTh8M0sxED8q27isRwe_XIC9-gOhfmqQdJWoZx4eAntVXa8S8YkGkk1tvwO3sd1hfrv1cZB-j3P7uOVm8Yuc2i1VSkemU_CGPL6M6ZdoKR-TA2dttobQvYwp/s1600/R1-05393-011A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdi_a9ukF6LDpdG5boSj7glTh8M0sxED8q27isRwe_XIC9-gOhfmqQdJWoZx4eAntVXa8S8YkGkk1tvwO3sd1hfrv1cZB-j3P7uOVm8Yuc2i1VSkemU_CGPL6M6ZdoKR-TA2dttobQvYwp/s320/R1-05393-011A.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I did get in the water, only out of complete love for my husband and his excitement to go snorkeling. </div>
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Don't I look thrilled? </div>
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While Matt was blissfully floating beside me, the only thoughts running through my head were "They'regonnagetme, they'regonnagetme, they'regonnagetme, gottagetoutofthewaterrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!"</div>
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It was terrifying. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PctuUyoi95M/Uf0F516cd3I/AAAAAAAADWM/Iw1eyEgtzXc/s1600/R1-05393-015A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PctuUyoi95M/Uf0F516cd3I/AAAAAAAADWM/Iw1eyEgtzXc/s320/R1-05393-015A.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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In the background are the famous Piton mountains. They were gorgeous!</div>
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I prefer to be <i>on</i> the water, not <i>in</i> the water. </div>
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Or at a pool. </div>
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The sunsets were amazing. </div>
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And there were cats everywhere at the resort. I may or may not have shared my bacon with them.</div>
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Another fun part was getting dressed up to go to dinner. There were four main restaurants on at Halcyon, and Mario's - Italian - was by far my favorite. We met another couple for dinner there after our day of snorkeling. </div>
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Nothing calms your post-snorkel nerves like a nice glass of red wine and a bowl of pasta. </div>
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I am my father's daughter. </div>
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Kelly's Dockside is another fabulous place to eat that was literally on the water. </div>
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Mario's Night #2: </div>
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We had such a great, relaxing time, and completely got sucked into becoming Sandals Select Rewards members, which means Jamaica 2015 is planned and booked. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdad54ijK-fMMhyv8-FwR78W8vTxV9EaHGhGhyphenhyphenZK63aZsVh4EWErFaB4EhFZyIYu1Le4W0857ua7iBE0zJ7eb_U74ffGV0slEh6PsdDOdefq0gX-61ajavE32nSrHNJYJU_77IIQqHXZ3/s1600/R1-05396-016A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdad54ijK-fMMhyv8-FwR78W8vTxV9EaHGhGhyphenhyphenZK63aZsVh4EWErFaB4EhFZyIYu1Le4W0857ua7iBE0zJ7eb_U74ffGV0slEh6PsdDOdefq0gX-61ajavE32nSrHNJYJU_77IIQqHXZ3/s320/R1-05396-016A.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Well played, Sandals. Well played. </div>
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<b><i>Today I love: </i></b>Looking through vacation pictures and getting settled back into a routine. And American water pressure. </div>
AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8988979630274807927.post-77834375877313682852013-07-30T06:08:00.000-07:002013-07-30T06:08:29.025-07:0030 Day Paleo Challenge - Day 30Day 30.<br />
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This is it. The final numbers are in. </div>
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What have I learned during the past month of 100% paleo? </div>
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1. It’s possible to stick with something longer than six
hours if you set it up right. Let people know what you’re doing, blog about it,
be accountable. Don’t let people shove cake in your face. Be vocal about your
goals. Talk about it until you make other people throw up. Be annoying. It’s
ok. </div>
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2. However, no matter how many people you tell, you’re
still ultimately accountable for yourself. I had multiple opportunities to
cheat, but I knew if I did, I wouldn’t want to face myself. I did this for ME,
and myself is proud of myself. If you want to cheat, fine. You’re only hurting
yourself. I didn’t want any regrets, and guess what. I don’t. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7ohL4ZOVjnGrBV1vxN_1oQ4h0ISlftK6YlxEaqdOcdRArQeOM-br-g-YQjDm_1SsrH6fY0KuJzn54NwnvLj4toy0UGfT3Pn9esgEpQoscDMVAfLf_OdwDv9D2K5afb6yMVUR2JHKNZGW/s1600/74ac1b2d76352197256996adf10d2c44-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7ohL4ZOVjnGrBV1vxN_1oQ4h0ISlftK6YlxEaqdOcdRArQeOM-br-g-YQjDm_1SsrH6fY0KuJzn54NwnvLj4toy0UGfT3Pn9esgEpQoscDMVAfLf_OdwDv9D2K5afb6yMVUR2JHKNZGW/s320/74ac1b2d76352197256996adf10d2c44-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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3. Days 9-20 were the hardest. You’re right smack in the
middle of your commitment and it starts getting a little mundane. Redundant.
You have to constantly be recommitting yourself and reinventing ways to keep
yourself interested. Mix up the meals, mix up the workouts. </div>
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4. I’m not at the size I want (yet), and I’m ok with
that. Yes, I’ve lost weight. I’ve lost more weight than I thought possible in a
30 day time frame. Pants from three years ago fit me again. I can feel my hip
bones. But you know what’s more important to me than that? I’ve gained an insane
amount of confidence. I am lifting heavier at Crossfit. I’m excited to get up
at 4am to go get sweaty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can do double-unders,
for crying out loud. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m jumping taller
box jumps. I’m freaking awesome. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHUk-C5uMUgHcLnCGEm45lFnunYMzt-H9Sz8u4oRZQrigPuDPq8n2GVSu3t7yKS5qhkGEFLdMSlodbxxuWOL09ClJHHqyvotFKGCkMHk8Exi1zkhth9BHzZS8VXaxgCiXs8LEYCa9R1Oh/s1600/f5ea6e4341dac6fc84979a297308880d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigHUk-C5uMUgHcLnCGEm45lFnunYMzt-H9Sz8u4oRZQrigPuDPq8n2GVSu3t7yKS5qhkGEFLdMSlodbxxuWOL09ClJHHqyvotFKGCkMHk8Exi1zkhth9BHzZS8VXaxgCiXs8LEYCa9R1Oh/s320/f5ea6e4341dac6fc84979a297308880d.jpg" width="251" /></a></div>
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5. My body and I will always have issues with each other,
but my husband thinks I’m awesome (see above) no matter what. He’s my superman.
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6. it’s vitally important to clean out your fridge and
cabinets and takeout menus. If it’s not there, you won’t eat it. Or stare at it
and cry. Delete Plum Tree and Papa John’s from your phone list. Look the other
way when you drive by Dunkin’ Donuts. Florida, is it really necessary to have
one on every corner? </div>
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Don’t answer that. Their coffee is amazing. It’s my inner
carbohydrate-and-sugaraholic that has the issues, and she’s currently hog-tied
and gagged at the moment. </div>
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7. Eating is important. I’ve had a love-hate relationship
with eating for most of my life. I’m from the old-school of
fat-free/calorie-free, and while that works for some people, it gave me no
energy, piled on the guilt if I strayed out of the caloric confines, and I was shaky
and crabby. A lot. If you’re exercising hard, you need to eat. Period. Focus on
proteins, healthy fats (avocado, olive oil, coconut oil) and good carbohydrates
(fruit, vegetables) for muscle recovery. I actually discovered that the more I
ate (not like half a cow or anything, but a decent-size breakfast/lunch/dinner)
the more weight I lost. Skip a meal and my body hung onto those pounds like a
life preserver. </div>
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8. Not eating is also important. I had to break some hard
habits – eating while I’m reading, eating while I’m watching TV, eating on long
road trips out of pure boredom in the car. Throw out the excuses. Habits can be
broken. Just because it’s a holiday or a special occasion or a Thursday doesn’t
mean you have to revolve the occasion around food. Practice <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> eating whenever you’re faced with a
habitual eating situation. </div>
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9. It’s hard. I’m not going to be one of those “I lost
five million pounds in three minutes and you can too!” sort of person. This was
WORK. Hard work. No one wants to exercise and eat healthy 100% of the time. We
all wish for some sort of magic pill that would melt away our hips and
genetically-cloned cottage cheese thighs. And yes, I started Crossfit back in
March, so I can’t completely say the 30 days had anything to do with this – but
my thighs are actually looking smooth for once. Squats and bacon, people.
Squats and bacon.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpu-ZcCK0iiUqaVNMhiBKh1WEoYMEZ6BBvLoOB3E1N7-uXdsFwu_3dJikEe_-tHbILO___wOwt3Z0Gbw1WRBkwe5d885MFg2enLiyPe1aOrgpq8O4hI7GCiL4W6RtxVTtDZnstsw4EP26f/s1600/36375bdfbab39ba319b5b5e9cb5ac726.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpu-ZcCK0iiUqaVNMhiBKh1WEoYMEZ6BBvLoOB3E1N7-uXdsFwu_3dJikEe_-tHbILO___wOwt3Z0Gbw1WRBkwe5d885MFg2enLiyPe1aOrgpq8O4hI7GCiL4W6RtxVTtDZnstsw4EP26f/s320/36375bdfbab39ba319b5b5e9cb5ac726.jpg" width="264" /></a></div>
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10. The results speak for themselves. Like I said, I’m
not yet at my personal goals, but these past 30 days brought me a heck of a lot
closer. After vacation, I might just do this all over again. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkX9_txuVKV6DjMEGL67zxu-LAw4uU3_VlInRwaGSPgormoKio35_3Zj7d4AnqFzgyGJOVWb7ChRtB5I4hUCPO0J0jAiFyIotPVmLQwMc378eREpRrbNct-Zy4b1nKeTLC2tY2WjiVSy1t/s1600/e9dc4d149a90c62017a6d9dc3aad1f8a-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkX9_txuVKV6DjMEGL67zxu-LAw4uU3_VlInRwaGSPgormoKio35_3Zj7d4AnqFzgyGJOVWb7ChRtB5I4hUCPO0J0jAiFyIotPVmLQwMc378eREpRrbNct-Zy4b1nKeTLC2tY2WjiVSy1t/s320/e9dc4d149a90c62017a6d9dc3aad1f8a-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Measurements Day 1: June 23, 2013</i></b></div>
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Chest: 37 in</div>
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Waist: 36 in</div>
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Hips: 42 in</div>
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Thigh: 11 in</div>
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Arm: 10 in</div>
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Weight: 163.2 lbs (highest weight of my life. So sad!!! Never again!!!) </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Measurements Day 30: July 22, 2013<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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Chest: 35.5 in (-1.5)</div>
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Waist: 35 in (-1)</div>
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Hips: 41 in (-1)</div>
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Thigh: 10 in (-1)</div>
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Arm: 9.5 in (-0.5)</div>
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Weight: <b>153 lbs!!! (-10.2) </b><br />
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<i>I'm so frustrated</i>. I'm frustrated because after years of watching the scale creep up, <i>THIS happens</i>. It just shows how important it is to <i>make up your mind to actually do something</i>, and when you put your mind to it, IT CAN HAPPEN. In 30 days, I've seen more results by sticking with a plan than I have in THREE YEARS of yo-yo dieting.<br />
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Pick something. Stick with it. See results.<br />
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Repeat. </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Today: Today is
meant for relaxation. Exploring our private walk-out cottage on the beach of an
exotic island. I’ll make wise choices with my food, but I’m not going to stress
about it. This week is for me and Matt and thinking back over our past 10 years
together. Man, I love him. <o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<em><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Today I love</span></em>: Getting on a plane with my love and jetting
off to Sandals in St. Lucia. No cell phones, no laptops. Just sunscreen and
swimsuits and poolside cabanas. See you all in a week! </div>
AWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03005375984579481909noreply@blogger.com0