tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19384051521315285932024-03-12T17:29:02.827-07:00She's Gone RogueA tag-along storyCaitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.comBlogger133125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-17609980220203549272012-07-18T18:23:00.002-07:002012-07-18T18:23:38.443-07:00The Oldest Adult<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I just did the most adult thing I've ever done in my life. I signed up for AAA. Actually, I signed Matt up for AAA and added myself as an "Associate Member". Because it's the responsible and adult thing to do. <br />
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That is all. <br />
<br />
False. That is not all. Also, Matt is in Memphis, Aura is having a baby, and I just hosted a rocking circus-themed baby shower for Danielle, to which I wore a pink zebra dress. It was a huge hit. <br />
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That is all. </div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-69936686102782106882012-05-13T18:46:00.000-07:002012-05-13T18:46:01.936-07:00Boom. Employed.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As many of you already know (but not all of you; I only told the important/cool kids), I can FINALLY call myself a gainfully employed individual! I'm working for a video and web production company in Evanston. <b>Right</b> down the road from our old apartment, so now a commute that would've been 20 minutes now takes about an hour. Such is life. I haven't as of yet learned my official role there, but it'll be some kind of adminy-assistanty thing for a few months anyway. <br />
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As you'll recall, my last post outlined my upcoming four-week temp journey that I was about to embark upon for the Muscular Dystrophy Association. Done. I completed about two and a half of those four weeks, and then I was out. Needles to say, it was not my best employment experience to date. I have nothing against the MDA, but as it turns out, I do have something against making cold calls. Lesson learned. <br />
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After the MDA, I singlehandedly (well, almost... Matt took off Friday... it wasn't enough) packed up our entire apartment, and then the movers came Saturday to haul all our ridiculous amounts of junk. I won't even go into the details, but suffice it to say, our sofa was apparently much, <i>much</i>, taller than a normal sofa should ever be. Consequently, it didn't fit through any doors in either of our two apartments. Matt sawed the legs down the other day, but only after it sat in the kitchen for 10 days. Ahh, sofas, will we never end our desperate feuding? <br />
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Anyway, after the move, we went to Ashley's wedding in Arkansas, where we hauled and moved a bunch of her wedding junk (it was actually nice stuff... some of it. Some of it was junk. Sorry, buddy.) and then we flew back to Chicago and had one evening to unpack more junk. Then I started my new job(!) and my first assignment was, you guessed it, hauling and moving <i>their</i> junk! So, in between hauling my/Ashley's/company's junk, I'm a little bit junked out. I'm seriously considering giving away all my worldly possessions just so I don't have to deal with them in a year when we move again. Except my Indian carpets. And my new bed. <br />
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Um, so I guess that's about it. I've been sufficiently exhausted every single day after (and during... and before) work, but I'm just so damned pleased to have somewhere to go and some paychecks to deposit that I can't complain. I'm sure that will change. It turns out I have almost no pictures from Ashley's wedding because Matt was in charge of the camera and he evidently completely neglected those duties. Sorry. </div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-65008035489997488762012-04-06T14:38:00.000-07:002012-04-06T14:38:53.037-07:00BANG!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I'm employed! Well, for 4 weeks anyway. Just a temp job with the Muscular Dystrophy Association, but I am VERY excited! Cross your fingers that they will recognize what a diamond in the not-so-rough I am and hire me full time (I don't even think that's an option, but hoping can't hurt). Also, to clarify: I am <b>not</b> pregnant. I thought it'd be funny and get all the sparks flying across the blogosphere.... It did not. I think three people asked me about it. That's cool, guys. I guess April Fools jokes are on their way out. Also, I got an Iphone, and it is ahhhhmazing. I'm not totally sure why I resisted for so long... well, aside from the cost... and the fact that it's silly and not entirely necessary.... but the maps are incredible, and they helped direct me to this interview, thereby getting me the job, so bang. It's already paid for itself. Happy Good Friday/Easter!</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-34575509978964680222012-04-01T15:26:00.000-07:002012-04-01T15:26:58.926-07:00WINNING!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span">So, I guess now it's official, and I can finally share our big news; we WON THE LOTTERY!!!!!! Our last-minute ticket frenzy paid off, and we won! We'll be splitting it with two other winners, but still - one third of $640 million is <b>a lot</b> of money! W</span>e've already contacted a lawyer and have our payout all set up and will be receiving $119 million after the lump sum and taxes. Wow. <span class="Apple-style-span">I still can't believe it. I am in total shock......</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQDDN1b4mdXPB86YOANhKm4WtNXugwolDqAeu76bVTjYPaLx9T3wsna-u3RyfBlXjfumphjhyTyx_F382e6BiG5MCLX5TbrBTFrqYFxsOq2Dnr8SOlm4N7n1UokuUXGyAgiYcRa0-Mn7M/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQDDN1b4mdXPB86YOANhKm4WtNXugwolDqAeu76bVTjYPaLx9T3wsna-u3RyfBlXjfumphjhyTyx_F382e6BiG5MCLX5TbrBTFrqYFxsOq2Dnr8SOlm4N7n1UokuUXGyAgiYcRa0-Mn7M/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Yeah, yeah, April Fool's. I know, it's not a very great one this year, but I didn't have much to work with. I was going to go with the standard "I'm pregnant" line, but as I just found out that's incredibly true at the moment, I had to scramble for something else. <br />
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For the record, we actually did win the lottery - a whopping $9! We only paid $6 for the tickets, so I'd say a $3 profit is not too shabby, considering the overwhelming majority of the tickets sold were worthless. Anyway, sorry for the lame joke. I'll come up with something better next year. Or am I getting to old for this? Perhaps. </div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-22251704877828266292012-03-30T14:01:00.000-07:002012-03-30T14:01:37.447-07:00Life in Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It's been a while, so I thought I'd update you all on the big changes in the She's Gone Rogue community: <br />
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1. I just bought 3 Mega Millions Lottery tickets. The jackpot is up to $640 million and growing, so naturally, I had to be a part of that. Also, I am fully aware that by tomorrow I won't be $640 million richer. The government takes half, so I'll just be around $320 million richer. In which case, I will go ahead and purchase <a href="http://www.bairdwarner.com/property/14781938/">this little ditty</a>. (On the off-chance that deal doesn't go through, please see No. 2.)<br />
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2. We found a new apartment! It's in Lincoln Square, which appears to be a cool/young/fun/hip/awesome/glorious/safe/interesting/studious/German-food area, so that should be a good time. We actually haven't spent much time there, other than looking at a few apartments, and it's not actually much of a better commute for Matt, and I don't actually know why we're doing it, but whatever. It's gonna be greeeaaaaaattt. At the very least, we'll have 2 bedrooms, a balcony, a (working!) fireplace, a bonus attic room, and laundry.... for freeeeeeeeee! So, we'll pretty much be living the dream. Also, we decided that in lieu of a car, I will just get an Iphone to help me wander around the streets of Chicago. Bang! Game. Changer. <br />
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3. We went to Denver, <i>and we actually came back!</i> I know, I was pretty shocked myself. Denver is glorious. The mountains are glorious. The elk are glorious. The turkey fights are <b>spectacular. </b>It was pretty fantastic to see all our old friends, and I made sure to mention (more than once... with tears in my eyes) how happy I was to be reunited with all my buddies again. Some people were embarrassed. I was not... but I am a little bit now that I think about it. <br />
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4. I did some temp work the last couple weeks downtown. I think I worked like a total of 8 days, and it was heavenly. I am ashamed at how entertained I was by doing data entry for 20 hours. I wouldn't want to make a career out of it... but I probably could. I'm <i>that</i> good. Plus, it paid for my new Iphone that I have yet to purchase. But that's neither here nor there, as I have the winning lottery numbers clutched in my sweaty palm. <br />
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5. We will be gleefully attending a charity pub crawl tomorrow afternoon/evening/early Sunday morning. We are very excited. <br />
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6. I got a new Food and Wine magazine with some sweet new recipes I can't wait to try.<br />
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7. I started running outside again. It is muy bueno. I can go much farther outside, which is good for the ol' waistline/thigh circumference. <br />
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8. That is all my news. Word to your mother. </div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-2007375336657956252012-03-09T16:26:00.000-08:002012-03-09T16:26:43.624-08:00Talking Time, Thinking Time, Moving Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">First things first, to clarify: the title is in reference to Matt and his older brother's <strike>nerdy</strike>, ahem, <i>adorable</i> practice of having a "talking time" and then a "thinking time" before bed. They shared a room. And bunk beds. Gods, that is sweet. <br />
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Now, to get on with it: In case some of you don't know, (and you probably don't because we haven't told anyone... except most people we speak to regularly... and our neighbors... and that guy at Jewel who asks me for money and tells me I have a beautiful smile so then I give him the money), we're probably moving in May when our lease is up. We've started looking, and <i>think</i> that we found the <a href="http://www.bairdwarner.com/property/14781938/">perfect place</a> today. Please let me know your opinions, as this is a huge decision. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbOs29LfHiy8C6Akd3vQRc7-u6OcFaPcEMe94O-12-sYgCPuwwJrVRnegwrKPjNTUpiWl4VdmeMST4xfviEm9awHoNEbSZJpS5rgRAZHk0fpO7x9PIeFR0_ysfL0bxb3KNOk-41TFyHY/s1600/IMG_1521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbOs29LfHiy8C6Akd3vQRc7-u6OcFaPcEMe94O-12-sYgCPuwwJrVRnegwrKPjNTUpiWl4VdmeMST4xfviEm9awHoNEbSZJpS5rgRAZHk0fpO7x9PIeFR0_ysfL0bxb3KNOk-41TFyHY/s320/IMG_1521.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Cray-eyed Matt with his 5-sticks-of-butter-cake I made him. Hey, the recipe is from Food and Wine, which makes it okay. (Cray is the new "crazy". Spread the word.)</i></div><br />
Also, thank you to everyone for making our birthdays so special this year! My birthday marked one year to the day of <a href="http://gonerogue.blogspot.com/2011_02_01_archive.html">leaving Baroda for good</a>. Bang! (It's the new boom. Tell all your friends.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkhwIAYQYn_MVSAxsBcLEq5m7p0GI5-qnniDBL34-lnEE0Fvt4m06c-_xyJvlXdnDbmD-r0TQtpYB-eExUEicAqbpOwciHiWV6IMU9m9SGCjLr4B40cMSslBKQf6T1Uw1_zGxt7_9aSVc/s1600/IMG_1533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkhwIAYQYn_MVSAxsBcLEq5m7p0GI5-qnniDBL34-lnEE0Fvt4m06c-_xyJvlXdnDbmD-r0TQtpYB-eExUEicAqbpOwciHiWV6IMU9m9SGCjLr4B40cMSslBKQf6T1Uw1_zGxt7_9aSVc/s320/IMG_1533.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Old Baby Cait with her two mini pies! Needles to say, we are now on a diet. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, before I go, I'd like to leave you with a little something that will brighten your day and leave you smiling far into the weekend... even if it means Matt kills me. It's probably worth it. At some point over the past few weeks, this happened: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAbF-G4T2PdjyuFRtC4gbQ3MhT1neA7CFZ_VH0gZy4cBPWwc9MEHGjwmHJJuQqWRp9XH0DVwkpntuJYKgpI5xBOq2DIRSPCticTvylBq3Yi9nQ_VHHRiaciF2psO3o4taARPoYsWDl2dQ/s1600/IMG_1526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAbF-G4T2PdjyuFRtC4gbQ3MhT1neA7CFZ_VH0gZy4cBPWwc9MEHGjwmHJJuQqWRp9XH0DVwkpntuJYKgpI5xBOq2DIRSPCticTvylBq3Yi9nQ_VHHRiaciF2psO3o4taARPoYsWDl2dQ/s320/IMG_1526.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Bang. So hip. Amazing how now that we know what hipsters are, we can emulate them at will. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-5242060620013301032012-02-23T11:47:00.000-08:002012-02-23T11:47:04.530-08:00Circle of Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Today, I looked out my window and saw a hawk eating another bird. Probably a pigeon. There are feathers everywhere. No blood, but so many feathers! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKYEcLyQX2Gi0xJp3vtbpoU_v8hgqdxPTeMVrvOTaSiUm-XWDmWXJEWb24Bop26I38CRe3MIbgxQEUxod4JWDvNrW5Y6GYj0b6RFvAyo0lUdHOF_r1LV-UDAo54_g7S_ChoA5iXHFY7G8/s1600/IMG_1530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKYEcLyQX2Gi0xJp3vtbpoU_v8hgqdxPTeMVrvOTaSiUm-XWDmWXJEWb24Bop26I38CRe3MIbgxQEUxod4JWDvNrW5Y6GYj0b6RFvAyo0lUdHOF_r1LV-UDAo54_g7S_ChoA5iXHFY7G8/s320/IMG_1530.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Seriously? This is eerily similar to my <a href="http://gonerogue.blogspot.com/2010/08/across-universe.html">bird eating lizard post</a> of 2010. <br />
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Maybe the universe is telling me something again? Like get out of America? It <b>has</b> been close to a year since my last jaunt outside the usa. And I <b>have</b> been working really hard on my job searching. I've been on six interviews now and have sent out at least a hundred applications (none of which has come to fruition... yet)! I think I deserve a vacation. If you're picking up on a weird sense of entitlement here, then you are spot on. I'm not sure how I got like this, but I think traveling the world for free might have played a part. Also, being the baby of the family always comes with a greater sense of privilege. To further underscore my point, consider this: if I'm ever going to get a job working within an international community, I'd better get some more experience in. Don't think of it as a vacation, think of it as "market research". <br />
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Also, it's snowing outside. Sooo... I'd like to get out of that situation. </div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-85443525394825194812012-01-13T12:48:00.000-08:002012-01-13T12:48:35.623-08:00Holiday Wrap Up<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So, I guess I missed posting about my big Amurcan Holiday Season this year. Suffice it to say, we were very busy running around visiting family and ringing in Thanksgiving, Christmas AND New Year's all over the country! A few highlights in photo form: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMhwW6eTRL42iujbTIQPxM8KIOxw42fpXCuJhuyneePRWJI_4UJr1EeajL6ZbP3RBrDyCVsKBqfYf_kBepGGL1KPnijcsKTwII7Xp9MWxEbLUFr9okEXkSEBkv1cehc6eUI3I0QsfSEw/s1600/IMG_1300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMhwW6eTRL42iujbTIQPxM8KIOxw42fpXCuJhuyneePRWJI_4UJr1EeajL6ZbP3RBrDyCVsKBqfYf_kBepGGL1KPnijcsKTwII7Xp9MWxEbLUFr9okEXkSEBkv1cehc6eUI3I0QsfSEw/s320/IMG_1300.JPG" width="240" /></a> </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Spent Thanksgiving at the Correnti household, where Matt was immediately put to work hanging Christmas lights. </i></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPamuegl6xv90392RRpQ6bKowsxy0CQv85mJSF8m6rdwmyQow_7dXXZa7mL6_xAaG7P1JeTZFIdxpq5WABdfuz1n2gXCb6Go57Co0PPxOaZoa-m_tHw8L-DRco7R91BjDJ2XQJKOfSmw/s1600/IMG_1354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPamuegl6xv90392RRpQ6bKowsxy0CQv85mJSF8m6rdwmyQow_7dXXZa7mL6_xAaG7P1JeTZFIdxpq5WABdfuz1n2gXCb6Go57Co0PPxOaZoa-m_tHw8L-DRco7R91BjDJ2XQJKOfSmw/s320/IMG_1354.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Later, we went to Oregon to check up on Ruby's. Matt felt the need to show off his skills, so we spent several hours hanging these Christmas lights, only to have none of them work because we got them from the thrift shop. Imagine that. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqrmeyMy4-7iVQlII0wewn1NabfxU1OnAufTxOcxOoG9YgfUbbQZ-HO_D_pFtlLOt0rgQxewfZKprA071rmC2zFOpbMFhvpsCvtqO6sOQMTY0Qt79c5kx6-HhwY1OCww-_KYJGV-6-5o/s1600/IMG_1445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqrmeyMy4-7iVQlII0wewn1NabfxU1OnAufTxOcxOoG9YgfUbbQZ-HO_D_pFtlLOt0rgQxewfZKprA071rmC2zFOpbMFhvpsCvtqO6sOQMTY0Qt79c5kx6-HhwY1OCww-_KYJGV-6-5o/s320/IMG_1445.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>After that, we returned to Chicago and visited the German Christmas Market downtown. It was pretty authentic, as far as Christmas Markets go, except it was small and as you can see, there were about 10,000 too many people there. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDM3TMlfg-XC9PoW5Fhxb5xIJWE5WBhXcae-fy5qlrRyFltuAch097IUhTgU_YJNwVhyphenhyphenUL2XYSZz1vWYZg1no5KLI0iVyx1NshMDD3YAJBQzv58cvRxR9Fm6ev-udL7YT1-YNDTETQ29U/s1600/IMG_1435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDM3TMlfg-XC9PoW5Fhxb5xIJWE5WBhXcae-fy5qlrRyFltuAch097IUhTgU_YJNwVhyphenhyphenUL2XYSZz1vWYZg1no5KLI0iVyx1NshMDD3YAJBQzv58cvRxR9Fm6ev-udL7YT1-YNDTETQ29U/s320/IMG_1435.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Then we decorated our apartment, for the first time since 2007!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUPN3gJRqByZTGKC3ktZo-40zrwqHDC2DY4AFdrdXr0wg2T_e3SC9RoXAgUotOc6C08KefcqwqW_CwBEQBmP2vsrqM-KoAF2UPZ0cqlZOjhiVRFQ29iWBezgBSqvGu19-zKBn2LW_7OU/s1600/IMG_1473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUPN3gJRqByZTGKC3ktZo-40zrwqHDC2DY4AFdrdXr0wg2T_e3SC9RoXAgUotOc6C08KefcqwqW_CwBEQBmP2vsrqM-KoAF2UPZ0cqlZOjhiVRFQ29iWBezgBSqvGu19-zKBn2LW_7OU/s320/IMG_1473.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>For Christmas, we drove to Arkansas with a pit stop in Missouri to collect our gifts (lots of camo) and stir up some excitement. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6BrdJBoJsLPRhq12ufYagXGAxxSCdxHmwM4uloOqS0jDECf-WsfsGbooWLhUITamdHbadr3eUbVEKhAX5xaX549MMyI65s4680HmWDB-kpFMrpU0PJ0dGcXNcspZY6hLjbBD2uRcFcx0/s1600/IMG_1477.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6BrdJBoJsLPRhq12ufYagXGAxxSCdxHmwM4uloOqS0jDECf-WsfsGbooWLhUITamdHbadr3eUbVEKhAX5xaX549MMyI65s4680HmWDB-kpFMrpU0PJ0dGcXNcspZY6hLjbBD2uRcFcx0/s320/IMG_1477.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Mason methodically tracked Santa's route with a map and an Iphone. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-N8MmNWfeLkKq5-fw20ZUkciulIXI5Q5HCZ8Bw__3Rp5MZcuUYX4t-qXuVIrVzuDSGj8WoY6MVH0LZH9Kr-Cqo9qRnNu4m4LM3_kd9NtWWXjImacCst_ouaWm9W5C-m9hgHCK0bfLPZ8/s1600/IMG_1485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-N8MmNWfeLkKq5-fw20ZUkciulIXI5Q5HCZ8Bw__3Rp5MZcuUYX4t-qXuVIrVzuDSGj8WoY6MVH0LZH9Kr-Cqo9qRnNu4m4LM3_kd9NtWWXjImacCst_ouaWm9W5C-m9hgHCK0bfLPZ8/s320/IMG_1485.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>These kids cleaned up! (As in, they got a lot of toys. They didn't actually clean anything up.)</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That's about it. I don't actually have pictures to prove I rang in the New Year with the Correnti family, but I did. It was similar to my 2011 New Year's Eve, filled with drinking and game-playing, only a lot more awesome. </div><br />
Now we're finally back home, and I'm ringing in this Friday the 13th stuck inside in the middle of a massive snow storm! Okay, it was only 6 inches, and it actually snowed yesterday, not today, but still. Six inches of snow and 20 degree weather deters me from venturing outside. <br />
<br />
A word about the New Year: <a href="http://gonerogue.blogspot.com/2011/01/2011.html"> Last year</a>, I completed at least one of my resolutions for 2011 - I ran 10 kilometers continuously! Actually, it was more like 12K because I was trying to run 11K to mark 11-11-11, but I got confused. Still, I can check that one off the last. I don't really know about the rest of my resolutions because they are a little harder to quantify... except that song from Stepbrothers. I didn't learn that. Oops. This year, in the spirit of fulfilling a resolution (because it feels so damn good!) I resolve to run at least 10 <b>miles </b>continuously. Also, I will find a job and decide what I want to be when I grow up (those are in no particular order). Bring it on 2012. <br />
<br />
As you may have guessed, I still have no job. Surprised? Me either. Never fear, my diligent followers, for I am making the best of this dismal situation. As I believe I've previously mentioned, I'm making lemonade out of the rotten, putrid, stinking lemons I've been given, and I'm taking this time off to try my hand at cooking and baking. As a tribute to Rachael (who, along with 80% of the blogosphere, is always listing her cooking adventures... and who is a far more accomplished cook than I), I will now list a few of my greatest achievements: fancy gumbo (only fancy because I had to stir the roux for 25 minutes continuously until it turned "the color of chocolate"), ravioli from scratch (Katie and I went on a friend date to a ravioli-making class, which was only slightly awkward, due to the fact that everyone else in class was on a romantic date), gooey raspberry granola bars (those didn't actually turn out, but they sound good), and (as of last night) my very own homemade granola with cranberries and sunflower seeds! Also, I bought a muffin pan two or three months ago, and have yet to use it. Boom. Chef. <br />
<br />
</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-19587660304417154282011-11-10T14:56:00.000-08:002011-11-10T14:56:10.157-08:00Shameless<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">There are a few reasons I'm shameless today. The first, and arguably most damning is this: I have spent approximately one hour researching velvet camo blazers online trying to find a photo of the one Brad Paisley wore last night at the 45th annual CMA Awards. I am ashamed to admit that I couldn't find a picture of the exact one, but I think <a href="http://usa.tommy.com/tommy/browse/productDetailWithPicker.jsp?productId=E887809175&categoryId=cat930025">this one</a> comes close. Brad's was velvet, therefore inherently better, but I'm pleased to note that I could indeed buy a camouflage blazer if I wanted. Also, in my vast research, I came across an amazing Christmas gift that I would like to receive, should anyone like to get it for me: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqPEA9rwlyWkkUt9_KBuUd9BCinjuGBuJQiFGtCSAvTsS-jtH5VhxHcfNJsDeNXNrG7iGwxVNJVsBrEMloh_d9lLrzFgrC63Suyn9zUbBwglvHnn3_pRgxl3HLWcx9N3XjBr6aMWkJvs/s1600/cf_3065_red_all_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqPEA9rwlyWkkUt9_KBuUd9BCinjuGBuJQiFGtCSAvTsS-jtH5VhxHcfNJsDeNXNrG7iGwxVNJVsBrEMloh_d9lLrzFgrC63Suyn9zUbBwglvHnn3_pRgxl3HLWcx9N3XjBr6aMWkJvs/s400/cf_3065_red_all_1.jpg" width="266" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>This is from a website called <a href="http://www.camoformal.com/">Camo Formal</a>. The sash comes in several different colors, including Hunter's Orange. I am partial to the red because I think it's more Christmassy. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Being a true Arkansawyer, I know my fair share of people who have gotten married in camouflage dresses, and needless to say, if I had a do-over for my own wedding, I would surely jump on that bandwagon. As it stands, I will wait until someone gifts this little ditty to me, and then I'll wear the hell out of it. That is a promise. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My second round of shamelessness is actually <b>not</b> my doing, but that of my friend from high school. She is launching her very own <b>print</b> magazine and without an ounce of shame in her very being, asked me if I'd like to blog about it. While I fully support everything she is doing, and am beyond proud of her accomplishments, I am simultaneously falling down into a pit of despair as I compare her life to my own and see all the ways in which I do not measure up. However, I'm not one to let a little despair, or the fact that no one in roughly 100 miles of her area reads my blog (with the possible exception of my father), come between me and helping out my homies, so here you go: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><blockquote class="tr_bq">DEITRA Magazine, everyone's favorite community-supporting, video-sharing, local-artist-sponsoring online journal, is hosting a launch party for their first ever print edition. Music lovers everywhere, as well as those fond of reading while holding tangible objects, can finally delve into the heart of magazine magic as they flip open the glossy cover of DEITRA to find pages jam-packed with news articles, CD reviews and interviews with a diverse group of local artists. Hipsters nationwide will shake their heads with disbelief as their previously hidden gems of the music scene are suddenly thrust into the spotlight, thanks to DEITRA's steadfast support of undiscovered bands. </blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">DEITRA Magazine invites everyone - in every time zone, and every country - to come share in this momentous occasion on Thursday, December 8th, at 9:00 p.m. in the Outland Ballroom in Springfield, Missouri. Come early to pick up your FREE print copy of the magazine, and secure your spot in the front row to hear popular Springfield-based bands such as Assembly Line Gods, VideoVamp, Ewag3, SPiNRaD (featuring Yellville musical legend David Styer), and many more. There is a $5 cover. Ain't nothing in this world worth doing is free anymore. "There is an incredible population of artists in local communities, including musicians, writers, photographers, actors, comedians and more," says the magazine's editor, "and DEITRA magazine wants to bring those talented people out from the underground and put them into the spotlight." Those not in the area should check out DEITRA Magazine online. It's the very least you could do. </blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Lastly, I'm shameless because I've had <a href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=1114905353200449375">this song</a> stuck in my head for the last four hours. Something about the CMA's always brings out the Garth Brooks in me. </div><span id="goog_986028273"></span><span id="goog_986028274"></span> </div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-39873640040211258192011-11-02T15:21:00.000-07:002011-11-02T15:21:26.248-07:00This is Halloween!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3HGjM9GwwtSG6uOehFZdrW5uob_tSh8ahZtl66Dbk6Xi2ZU763XdAhcXWv6fDnTShCmccdM1tRBfjE-KRN3lY3x_KO_xNTbnJiLh85aVhlhn1BbAc_IGsv2T2pILgMfiKNSz9RpivXY/s1600/IMG_1274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3HGjM9GwwtSG6uOehFZdrW5uob_tSh8ahZtl66Dbk6Xi2ZU763XdAhcXWv6fDnTShCmccdM1tRBfjE-KRN3lY3x_KO_xNTbnJiLh85aVhlhn1BbAc_IGsv2T2pILgMfiKNSz9RpivXY/s320/IMG_1274.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>First pumpkins in at least four years! Mine's the gruesome evil one. Matt's is the jolly snowman face one. </i></div><br />
We finally got to go all out dressing up for Halloween this year, and in true She's Gone Rogue style, we chose to go the comedic route rather than horror or slutty (although slutty was a close second for Matt. I had to reign him in). Anyway, for our re-entrance into American Halloween culture, we worked diligently for days on our costumes, making sure every detail was perfect. And then we scrapped it the night before when we came up with something better: Allstate Mayhem Commercial Guy. I'll attach links to the youtube clips so you get the idea, but even if you don't, I'm confident you'll still find our costumes rock so much harder than most. Matt was the "hot babe out jogging":<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLx2eBAkNu6iJuY7Qe3Uq7hqBBTPjefzh7S7uO1xK0iLAffeeWo8r2dQqJb5NfUpZkQ-LcnzX2xDY4tL6kgcpGFJ1yLh6hRgc3v_M72PJioDE0_iH3EpHWeoZ3tZCajYdcMMzIRh2cp7E/s1600/IMG_1282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLx2eBAkNu6iJuY7Qe3Uq7hqBBTPjefzh7S7uO1xK0iLAffeeWo8r2dQqJb5NfUpZkQ-LcnzX2xDY4tL6kgcpGFJ1yLh6hRgc3v_M72PJioDE0_iH3EpHWeoZ3tZCajYdcMMzIRh2cp7E/s320/IMG_1282.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <i>He's out making sure <b>this</b> a ten.</i> Click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2dgN3N24PXk">here</a> for his commercial.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Pretty close, right?</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Katie was the toddler: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcInHb7r4qCwRlOYxHP92Cg_n0CtPelxJ7V7QkN-hHuUQtJwodP7d0EBiBuZgASV_M3a4PeWjmBc7tjJBhvJIIBzGAUtmZUlbjqd9ennWEx_bfiHpMJ4g8BV6pNH-ZmdrK0FeV_O272qg/s1600/IMG_1284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcInHb7r4qCwRlOYxHP92Cg_n0CtPelxJ7V7QkN-hHuUQtJwodP7d0EBiBuZgASV_M3a4PeWjmBc7tjJBhvJIIBzGAUtmZUlbjqd9ennWEx_bfiHpMJ4g8BV6pNH-ZmdrK0FeV_O272qg/s320/IMG_1284.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbTSsJ558Fw&feature=related">here</a> for her commercial.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And I was the "raccoon hiding in your attic":</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhitC7jnqvupYn7YgeoIId0KBhj6mMsvT-e-kCliCpcB8dgbfxh87PC_qJDJe6i73SEI3ITsg3vYm8EcRtNWUKwDHAlTpjFW3imP-FcbX9RjZVzcr1gdJJXGbJRaABnOljooL34djzhDSs/s1600/IMG_1283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhitC7jnqvupYn7YgeoIId0KBhj6mMsvT-e-kCliCpcB8dgbfxh87PC_qJDJe6i73SEI3ITsg3vYm8EcRtNWUKwDHAlTpjFW3imP-FcbX9RjZVzcr1gdJJXGbJRaABnOljooL34djzhDSs/s320/IMG_1283.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>"I'm the smartest raccoon I know."</i> Click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=thzUR_mq6OY">here</a> for my commercial. (It's de best one.) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In any case, we were all very excited to dress up better than we have in previous years. Case in point:</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjNdVUhFXh5nzcQFeLfTos8Oghmnmsd5yIbs1-gZenR4MYQKRdtnqxmFV8Gp1LgxpdgQaAeaoiZ3DgcZWafY8ZReOeob8Hty0APupz9FiqQYk-0vOkGONdGt4HBU8ydKhFL_FRztE8m7o/s1600/IMG_2889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjNdVUhFXh5nzcQFeLfTos8Oghmnmsd5yIbs1-gZenR4MYQKRdtnqxmFV8Gp1LgxpdgQaAeaoiZ3DgcZWafY8ZReOeob8Hty0APupz9FiqQYk-0vOkGONdGt4HBU8ydKhFL_FRztE8m7o/s400/IMG_2889.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Halloween 2009 Dushanzi: Matt is the character Apache played by the late Patrick Swayze. So sad. I am Brett Michaels of Poison fame. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwEr9-DXiMC7HNZDWO5fMH3RGN_kMFCPr8wOJC_n4xFuxkqW8ADCHv3ipxlLtbxkVNLpGudSYi22_zfT91caPtqWJ5fCeS6baD-rRIzdECLPeefAi1plet_Lq67D267qDS237kCoMZ-B4/s1600/IMG_6818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwEr9-DXiMC7HNZDWO5fMH3RGN_kMFCPr8wOJC_n4xFuxkqW8ADCHv3ipxlLtbxkVNLpGudSYi22_zfT91caPtqWJ5fCeS6baD-rRIzdECLPeefAi1plet_Lq67D267qDS237kCoMZ-B4/s320/IMG_6818.JPG" width="213" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Halloween 2010 Baroda: An Asian couple in love. Maybe not the most politically correct costume, but we had nothing else. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXhFOfr0VngC1cxsQHJLx9mBgzGIgEpRt9g1N5i1s4dE89jgeNSEJaczwjY37NgXE56Em-7CQM-0x-pUv6PZchuGb1GMg0Ous0RX67zQAcuCe_qzleZiu3rdbP4ewwr5_R6Hf57mixac/s1600/IMG_1281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXhFOfr0VngC1cxsQHJLx9mBgzGIgEpRt9g1N5i1s4dE89jgeNSEJaczwjY37NgXE56Em-7CQM-0x-pUv6PZchuGb1GMg0Ous0RX67zQAcuCe_qzleZiu3rdbP4ewwr5_R6Hf57mixac/s320/IMG_1281.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Halloween 2011 Chicago: Allstate Mayhem. A vast improvement. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In other news, I signed up with a staffing agency today in hopes they'll be more successful at finding me a job. I went to their office downtown today and spent about three hours taking tests and filling out papers. I felt very urban and professional by the time I was finished. Then I went to the restroom in McDonald's and immediately dropped my phone in the toilet. A <i>public</i> toilet. In <i>McDonald's.</i> I was tempted to just leave it, but then I thought better of it, as I have no car and my phone is about the only thing that connects me with the outside world. So I dove in there and plucked it from within the recesses of the septic system. Not really. It was just in the toilet bowl. Still, it was pretty gross. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-7908038321156937062011-10-04T10:45:00.000-07:002011-10-04T10:45:08.023-07:00Boom. Traveling.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Matt learned last night he had to go back to Texas City for the loading on Wednesday. As in tomorrow. Not excited about the prospect of facing another week plus alone in Evanston, we decided I'll just go with him! I figure I've got to check Houston out at some point, considering we <b>might</b> choose to live there some day. (Keep in mind, almost every city in America - with the obvious exception of Dumas, TX - is on our "we might choose to live there" list.) <br />
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In other news, I have not yet found a job, and my spirit just might be broken. Not quite as broken as it was in India, but bending toward a breaking point, nonetheless. Case in point: the other day I was walking outside and I saw probably four or five piles of dog poop on the sidewalk, and my immediate reaction was "Oh this is a metaphor for my life." Boom. Defeated. However, I will rise above this. In the meantime, I will go to Texas. Everything is better in Texas - isn't that how the saying goes? <br />
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Anyway, I don't really know anything about Texas City, except that it's in Texas. <br />
<a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?ll=29.567485,-95.200653&spn=0.590059,1.09314&t=m&z=10&vpsrc=6&msa=0&msid=209613938656108396957.0004ae7c6db3f0343ecae">Click here</a> for a map. Looks to be close to Galveston. I don't know anything about Galveston either, but it is probably awesome. Better take my cowboy boots. <br />
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That's about all I've got for the day, and probably the month of October. Maybe I'll have something else to share in the next few days, as I'll be traveling once again! Even if this job is the worst, at least I'll get to visit my favorite place, O'Hare International Airport, two more times. <br />
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</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-33878284367439825992011-09-07T14:30:00.000-07:002011-09-07T14:30:19.347-07:00Sublime August<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I'm turning into a regular Crafty Cathy over here in Amurca these days. Who knew? I finally finished my picture wall project that I've been somewhat listlessly working on for the past, eh, three years. Why did it take so long, you ask? Well, firstly, I had to take some pictures. Then, I had to wait to have a wall on which to hang my pictures. Next, I had to collect all manner of vintage picture frames. After that, I had to buy Command Strips and hang said pictures in picture frames. And later, I had to watch as they all fell off the wall and tumbled down up on the mantle, cracking a few frames and shattering lots of glass. Finally, I had to double the Command Strips and place the frames ever so gently on the ancient and crumbling space above my fireplace. Now, it is done, and I think you'll agree, the effect is glorious. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVx13Q2iXlVhSSZ2oyXBTtQUqZSli4yFquMTUKejU_Q26jnA_A6wiTFHRzgqoQj6I6M0OPHJBBNUQiBKjjoVJXlh6wks5rKDbqCwPdaZ6SEbGgQn8BHdi3RTA2Nicm9zdOHAFTkYsBzgs/s1600/IMG_1217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVx13Q2iXlVhSSZ2oyXBTtQUqZSli4yFquMTUKejU_Q26jnA_A6wiTFHRzgqoQj6I6M0OPHJBBNUQiBKjjoVJXlh6wks5rKDbqCwPdaZ6SEbGgQn8BHdi3RTA2Nicm9zdOHAFTkYsBzgs/s400/IMG_1217.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Boom. Glorious. </i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSVUixLTbtjiVuPl7QwPXOOLVS-sDp4_7_QM5W95d_Zj2hoZ81VM2WkZVvxJxkOtKehsZTSw0D9_1utozY9hrWxuoiSMdM-JyAroTq5MnAvTCUHb_4nria4oe35ssn8ucuhfvaq2jrnSY/s1600/IMG_1218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSVUixLTbtjiVuPl7QwPXOOLVS-sDp4_7_QM5W95d_Zj2hoZ81VM2WkZVvxJxkOtKehsZTSw0D9_1utozY9hrWxuoiSMdM-JyAroTq5MnAvTCUHb_4nria4oe35ssn8ucuhfvaq2jrnSY/s320/IMG_1218.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Actually, it didn't turn out at all like I was anticipating, but I've made my peace with it, and it's nice to finally have something to fill that yawning expanse of wall. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Also, August was Cardinal Month for us here at She's Gone Rogue, and we decided that it was high time we get busy livin' or get busy dyin'. It was in this spirit that we attended three St. Louis Cardinal games in a three week span. Here are some highlights: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggIc9724683FZH6TDLiAXkh8RTXdmTMSvve-O7QXYhqsV1vuFc-LYbQ-VA2PmHCkSxy4QdJddbpwYRK4ZHzCoUXOzM-sXwgRj7K3bAw9v9uBKJJWdYwqGA7xBTSo_g3NfX1CqgjpUzeZ8/s1600/IMG_1049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggIc9724683FZH6TDLiAXkh8RTXdmTMSvve-O7QXYhqsV1vuFc-LYbQ-VA2PmHCkSxy4QdJddbpwYRK4ZHzCoUXOzM-sXwgRj7K3bAw9v9uBKJJWdYwqGA7xBTSo_g3NfX1CqgjpUzeZ8/s320/IMG_1049.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Garland weekend. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiixJRetiaIgK_vRtoVLJdWC2Zc0MlAZDd-oKHWq5KhH7nz19eiTxsoKcVtMs0ZnIGEO5yYm5ddmrdPVV6A62R-mh_Ad0FQZv89Y1JX5x395T5oV9t_vm0UypA4BwhrFJf-pNLPWz_SfHM/s1600/IMG_1076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiixJRetiaIgK_vRtoVLJdWC2Zc0MlAZDd-oKHWq5KhH7nz19eiTxsoKcVtMs0ZnIGEO5yYm5ddmrdPVV6A62R-mh_Ad0FQZv89Y1JX5x395T5oV9t_vm0UypA4BwhrFJf-pNLPWz_SfHM/s320/IMG_1076.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIU5B7Z_DqHm0BeI2x-iFv0puUHI_fYpWNIEuZpzhXxXhl73EeKOpKKotyRmCUfArpBjEednafaxaKE7jeSOviIH0fHVFkr8APK_1ASb1LcUlCnL-Gh0VU1N5qNZhvBS4o0OPdBgmnJzk/s1600/IMG_1070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIU5B7Z_DqHm0BeI2x-iFv0puUHI_fYpWNIEuZpzhXxXhl73EeKOpKKotyRmCUfArpBjEednafaxaKE7jeSOviIH0fHVFkr8APK_1ASb1LcUlCnL-Gh0VU1N5qNZhvBS4o0OPdBgmnJzk/s320/IMG_1070.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiixJRetiaIgK_vRtoVLJdWC2Zc0MlAZDd-oKHWq5KhH7nz19eiTxsoKcVtMs0ZnIGEO5yYm5ddmrdPVV6A62R-mh_Ad0FQZv89Y1JX5x395T5oV9t_vm0UypA4BwhrFJf-pNLPWz_SfHM/s1600/IMG_1076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> <i>View from the box. They call us "Big Deal Streetts". </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2uEEPK63Eyp4lLQAQhQ9352XUc4IxEJIqKXdNBWsnYam-ogyjuarIjXz0TYzCL1sVMrQGim6FOmr65QyF2RDxOOkToTkUC3RoDARQ9zOFaz9OOVwDS3ApuzSUs8d9nMKiC9Lg5oMNkss/s1600/IMG_1163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2uEEPK63Eyp4lLQAQhQ9352XUc4IxEJIqKXdNBWsnYam-ogyjuarIjXz0TYzCL1sVMrQGim6FOmr65QyF2RDxOOkToTkUC3RoDARQ9zOFaz9OOVwDS3ApuzSUs8d9nMKiC9Lg5oMNkss/s320/IMG_1163.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Second weekend at Wrigley. Slightly less impressive, but still fun. </i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZafFoAEXUqrzxBD7ZEQTHMFly6I1S9cDWrOv7rPbWvRGkUYSYjU1XWscvFwEXlF7mALFfHnTHME7O9YRch9qnyVFpLjfyS2MjoJEmhXdGFCpEZo6nFK3HkOrZILBXZB97CLiEcNQWaA/s1600/IMG_1172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZafFoAEXUqrzxBD7ZEQTHMFly6I1S9cDWrOv7rPbWvRGkUYSYjU1XWscvFwEXlF7mALFfHnTHME7O9YRch9qnyVFpLjfyS2MjoJEmhXdGFCpEZo6nFK3HkOrZILBXZB97CLiEcNQWaA/s320/IMG_1172.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Boom. Tony La Russa. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX4Z1YgMdwdOLnYK751n_DK7_p9SfJkr3fz8AQUB1s36e2lAotL1EFSO3RAwRQAEG6XPT1Lv1OPuzFK_PCNkVEUIaqoVM6xEAbgkdhUCkASOMIot8ZPmy8vdH_CwSF0ciQnLB-khwdbTo/s1600/IMG_1177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX4Z1YgMdwdOLnYK751n_DK7_p9SfJkr3fz8AQUB1s36e2lAotL1EFSO3RAwRQAEG6XPT1Lv1OPuzFK_PCNkVEUIaqoVM6xEAbgkdhUCkASOMIot8ZPmy8vdH_CwSF0ciQnLB-khwdbTo/s320/IMG_1177.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Boom. Rally caps. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANgRTvoCqxYXcpxf83JIOuT39ofyi6GmslTVvPnxbU_6fSuVwAnFEPDQjY2uVv7mJw3Q9Z0tKIrhj8rZ2wDJyuDYqZe_wUiUYezejPPjYITNDDLcQqi_UCPFtr4FQn_BsUr4aqhkyMS8/s1600/IMG_1181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANgRTvoCqxYXcpxf83JIOuT39ofyi6GmslTVvPnxbU_6fSuVwAnFEPDQjY2uVv7mJw3Q9Z0tKIrhj8rZ2wDJyuDYqZe_wUiUYezejPPjYITNDDLcQqi_UCPFtr4FQn_BsUr4aqhkyMS8/s320/IMG_1181.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Correnti weekend. (Notice their complete lack of Cardinal's attire. Is nothing sacred anymore?)</i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_-_pQ6_tUDSYLmOfw_5Qv1MxLqKrJ0CdHHWP5XA_dyDETvS0msuVIon8JaOHEOupG0Vl6Dskch7IDIOeN6B-YuIMjr1lRc6Iphz9-ZcuznWptf3yj0dN8XSdkO7Y92l5BZ1B5J2ARNv8/s1600/IMG_1187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_-_pQ6_tUDSYLmOfw_5Qv1MxLqKrJ0CdHHWP5XA_dyDETvS0msuVIon8JaOHEOupG0Vl6Dskch7IDIOeN6B-YuIMjr1lRc6Iphz9-ZcuznWptf3yj0dN8XSdkO7Y92l5BZ1B5J2ARNv8/s320/IMG_1187.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Boom. Representing.</i> </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahLtOKVBcxbXIOXwDVgsgsCTSikxnqph0LZ_RMi-bLAvxxDdkHgg5tAj0EVB3NXSSyIytIku4Cy8u-srpz-fU15gMOmuNt1OnaDHMEmd8w5HqBJHIQPgUfBsa44gUBQcWrbSPH52qVbg/s1600/IMG_1188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahLtOKVBcxbXIOXwDVgsgsCTSikxnqph0LZ_RMi-bLAvxxDdkHgg5tAj0EVB3NXSSyIytIku4Cy8u-srpz-fU15gMOmuNt1OnaDHMEmd8w5HqBJHIQPgUfBsa44gUBQcWrbSPH52qVbg/s320/IMG_1188.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Our seats were high, but the view wasn't too shabby. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I wish I could tell you the Cardinal's fought the good fight and won every game. I wish I could tell you that, but baseball ain't no fairy tale world. They lost two of the three games I saw, but still. Sublime August. Also, Matt's leaving me for Texas City... again. Visitors? My door is always open. Especially because he'll probably leave me again at the end of the month. </div><br />
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</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-43233274152545480742011-08-25T13:18:00.000-07:002011-08-25T13:18:16.154-07:00Domestic Goddess<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">You know you've settled down when you get a membership to Sam's Club. I don't really <i>need</i> to shop in bulk, but does anyone? Plus, you've gotta support Arkansas' economy when you can. This is why I didn't go with Costco. (Also, because Uncle John put me on his business account. I've got mad connections.) Also, I not sure there's a greater high than buying 36 double rolls of toilet paper, four sticks of deodorant, two giant bottles of coffee creamer, and double family pack of Honey Bunches of Oats (with Almonds!) at the same time. <br />
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In other news, I still don't have a job, nor have I even been seriously considered for one to the best of my knowledge. On the contrary, I was rejected by a university in Chicago (I decline to name the specific university to protect my reputation - but the initials are U of C) in a record two hours and 45 minutes. It took me three hours just to fill out the application and write myself up. Boom. Humbled. Some people might be ashamed to admit that, but not me. I look on the bright side. I grab life by the horns and wrestle it into submission. I take nasty, rotten, putrid lemons and turn them into sage-infused vodka lemonade. On a related note, I am now proficient in both cover letter- and resume-writing, and more than proficient in researching for jobs. Stick that in your careerbuilder pipe and smoke it. </div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-74674497282335704652011-08-04T14:23:00.000-07:002011-08-04T14:23:39.241-07:00DIY<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Matt left me earlier this week to go to Houston for work. Certain that I would fall apart without his benevolent presence to guide me through the days, he worried his way through his meetings, anxious to get home and coddle me into a peaceful state once more. Little did he know, I had bigger and better plans in the form of my very own DIY project. Because now I'm domesticated, and I can buy things and make them into better things. <br />
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Saturday, before Matt left, we traipsed over to my new favorite haunt, the Village Treasure House, where we found a used nightstand for $25. Only $25! Do you know how much those things cost these days? Upwards of $100, at least! No way I'm spending that much on a little dinky cabinet to hold my mouthguard (I now have a teeth clenching problem, courtesy of India) and glass of water. I would much rather stick my water and guard on something we already have... like the small safe Nick and Jen got us for our wedding. (So many uses for a safe!) <br />
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Anyway, this nightstand needed a little coddling of its own, so we sanded it down (by hand, which I don't recommend), and then I lovingly and painstakingly painted it, a task which kept me busy for most of the 48 hours Matt was away. Seriously, these things take time. We had decided we wanted something chic and exciting, a la this little number from Crate & Barrel: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsC6dPFPB5y9cXLT9eD1JTJ6h-KM6-4CDPzcqbRnnDNyDrnO0Wkd505fqtnT7OKOFcbmPDWZ8wbgyDSputx8_o_vm6Uh5AQ9ETFQWqTyfwWqsvO5OG00qIBDo7I1q139BRtw2WHxF4Sys/s1600/CalaisCabinetS11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsC6dPFPB5y9cXLT9eD1JTJ6h-KM6-4CDPzcqbRnnDNyDrnO0Wkd505fqtnT7OKOFcbmPDWZ8wbgyDSputx8_o_vm6Uh5AQ9ETFQWqTyfwWqsvO5OG00qIBDo7I1q139BRtw2WHxF4Sys/s320/CalaisCabinetS11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>FYI, if anyone feels that I should have this exact cabinet in my home, I agree with you, and I'd gladly accept it as a gift and token of your love and affection. It costs $900. A steal! </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So we went to Lowe's and bought a paint and primer combo called "Enchanted Navy". So chic. So exciting. I didn't have a paintbrush, so we bought one of those, too. And sandpaper, for the sanding. We spent about $30. Then I had to go buy new drawer knobs for it. $5. New nightstand total: $60. Hmm. I'm new at this DIY stuff, but I'm not sure your refurbishing supplies should exceed the cost of the actual product. Unless it was free. Ah, well, such is life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Many, many hours and four <i>very thin</i> coats of paint later, the deed was done. Add in what Matt should pay me for my backbreaking labor (roughly $40/hour), and the final total came up to: $1660. Not quite a bargain, per se, but still better than something you might buy at, ahem, Macy's. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Before (But after the sanding. I forgot to take a true before picture):</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-16Aqp1ii1wajZ3euUq1QVH27ErUyb4XssfhnXFK4zk4vb2AZVewoHprh20rVSaPD-gbSYqsXYuaUM4rR9PjLH3ugi-89wWDDvJubz-6YPd9FlRcrxmOnQ3k9nEP5gGH0AnY7So6lEc/s1600/IMG_0930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-16Aqp1ii1wajZ3euUq1QVH27ErUyb4XssfhnXFK4zk4vb2AZVewoHprh20rVSaPD-gbSYqsXYuaUM4rR9PjLH3ugi-89wWDDvJubz-6YPd9FlRcrxmOnQ3k9nEP5gGH0AnY7So6lEc/s320/IMG_0930.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And After!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxPfr4Z1S-eXROVepP3emUHrh-Hc3ijNnwhB_d1j6G1TCNReLQx859zUX_a158dG610rYwRWIxrvjvgUwf4ERF44KEgZZ63MV-9ffy7G5APT6W_aCVKHQ5qelie4HZP35bKbxXtPFYx9Y/s1600/IMG_0934.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxPfr4Z1S-eXROVepP3emUHrh-Hc3ijNnwhB_d1j6G1TCNReLQx859zUX_a158dG610rYwRWIxrvjvgUwf4ERF44KEgZZ63MV-9ffy7G5APT6W_aCVKHQ5qelie4HZP35bKbxXtPFYx9Y/s320/IMG_0934.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Ehhhh. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And the finished product: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOVw-pefJ9D5E8ANWGCKDqO_SkVdMxejaeCPqI99pImRKchS69wfS3awFsuFPZEcBI6FsAA-QTwXrV-ZPZ8LNA2ZON8JDwU1q2puXGMXcohG121VOCgImpq6OKSAx6noqf89p77tfAr9M/s1600/IMG_0942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOVw-pefJ9D5E8ANWGCKDqO_SkVdMxejaeCPqI99pImRKchS69wfS3awFsuFPZEcBI6FsAA-QTwXrV-ZPZ8LNA2ZON8JDwU1q2puXGMXcohG121VOCgImpq6OKSAx6noqf89p77tfAr9M/s320/IMG_0942.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>I am fully aware that it looks like a face with book teeth, and I'm okay with that. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Soooo, it isn't quite the chic and exciting finished product I was envisioning, but it isn't terrible. Somehow the color came out much lighter and brighter and more primary-color-wheel-esque than I had anticipated. That's okay. I am consoling myself with the fact that after we have kids, we can stick this little guy in the kid's room and the bright and cheerful blue color will brighten his/her days forever. Hell, I might even stencil some trains on it. Or teddy bears. Or creepy old-fashioned dolls with glass eyes. Eventually. (I'm not pregnant, I promise. I'm just thinking ahead. Waaay ahead.) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Anyway, Matt came home and was just about as impressed as I was. Which isn't saying much. However, we are both pleased to have a new nightstand for our sundries. Plus, now I have a whole can of bright, primary blue paint to do with as I please. Stay tuned for my next DIY project: Blue Dresser, followed by Blue Mantle, Blue Mirror, and probably Blue Faux Leather Chairs. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh, also, in light of recent DIY events, Matt has elected to skip his Seoul trip in August to babysit me. Any and all who were invited to visit are still invited, but things might be a touch more unpleasant with him around. I joke, I joke. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-50759829270128939552011-07-22T08:49:00.000-07:002011-07-22T08:49:51.297-07:00Oh My Lady Gaga!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I am rushing to write this, as it looks like it's about to Apocalypse (can you use that as a verb? Boom. Just did it.) outside my window. We have now had two major storms here in Chicagoland, both of which knocked our power out at our new apartment. I feel certain this will be the third. The power is flickering as my fingers dance across the keys, but I will not be deterred. Every light in my apartment is on, along with both the bathroom vent and the air conditioner. If I'm going to lose power for the third time in a month, I'm going to soak in every last drop of electricity possible. <br />
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I don't actually have much news, but I do, however, have a proclivity for dramatics. Firstly, I'd like to say that Matt took me to a Cubs versus Phillies game Tuesday night. Our first game of the season (I'd only ever been to one at Wrigley before, about four years ago... in case you hadn't heard, I've been out of town for a while), it did not disappoint. As I remembered from my previous game, there were lots of drunks running around in Cubs gear, but there were also a fair number of Phillies fans. I don't know where they came from, but it sure as hell wasn't Philadelphia. I thought (hoped) we might see a fight between drunken Cubbies and stone-faced Phanatics, but we did not. I, forever the rebel, tried to incite tensions by wearing both red and blue. I've been told that if you can't wear Cardinal's gear, you cannot in good conscience fully support another team.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvy2ErIjK1tkdGRe4Nuqomer1d2J36kGoJ9ogGbJF_3yxlNOmMLO15FxJNqUze23QOAv2Jk4XX5tn2cyPS_sW_QDwo2SelW2ZOKjrnIkk3_IoGH3CXj_Wf5My0C9lE6Qax0ZNVEU2Lpyw/s1600/IMG_0889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvy2ErIjK1tkdGRe4Nuqomer1d2J36kGoJ9ogGbJF_3yxlNOmMLO15FxJNqUze23QOAv2Jk4XX5tn2cyPS_sW_QDwo2SelW2ZOKjrnIkk3_IoGH3CXj_Wf5My0C9lE6Qax0ZNVEU2Lpyw/s400/IMG_0889.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>This is..... BASEBALL!</i></div>I thought I was being quite magnanimous and humorous in my wardrobe selection, but many others did not think it was so. I had two old guys on the train comment in it, and they were not impressed by my rehearsed "I'm a walking contradiction" accompanied by a winning smile. Apparently you don't mess around with baseball. I can't tell you the particulars of the game because I wasn't paying that much attention, but I can tell you the Phillies won. Yay. I was actually pretty star struck with the Phillies, as this is the only team my husband will watch or talk about. Ever. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8I_fcdz2zc0LSx8k-3M3JCIZfps6Zb5E12BRTsl_0nu8EBjOOCaPqrAAGACiDmQePBt7wc3C1auJGc8gEvtB0GOS2lPuMqRwS_5rAfpYfRWg54e1uNtxdNlSzHbhPTqFfZ7VGP4Uof4/s1600/IMG_0895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8I_fcdz2zc0LSx8k-3M3JCIZfps6Zb5E12BRTsl_0nu8EBjOOCaPqrAAGACiDmQePBt7wc3C1auJGc8gEvtB0GOS2lPuMqRwS_5rAfpYfRWg54e1uNtxdNlSzHbhPTqFfZ7VGP4Uof4/s320/IMG_0895.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Cliff Lee. I'm allowed to root for him because he's from Arkansas. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RzIiSNDlj0owh_wC2tJbcCL4uhr-XdqdK90fdTMkQ5JmEhNreAWt_LguFS7BC6hnyEFy7sN2jP7oeXLIa-u15nDa87dgjE601IZvBu5UyjWCNo-Gh3M3b8smwkQgVgJDtX31PC14XWc/s1600/IMG_0893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RzIiSNDlj0owh_wC2tJbcCL4uhr-XdqdK90fdTMkQ5JmEhNreAWt_LguFS7BC6hnyEFy7sN2jP7oeXLIa-u15nDa87dgjE601IZvBu5UyjWCNo-Gh3M3b8smwkQgVgJDtX31PC14XWc/s320/IMG_0893.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Shane Victorino - he of the crazy eyes. I'm pretty sure he's a meth addict, therefore, he is my favorite.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-KInzeVS2CdY_a3VAIejV6gYI0FEJhgjj2UHDyu76Nwae7Moyo-JL6kvW9pkkau7bzg5gPlcsnXlnMZ1fB8EBPuLIE3VAEkSASuWbTaPvinDDUZgvzQZ3Rnp0heBYMrZuwNhf9n2QH0/s1600/shane-victorino-212x200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-KInzeVS2CdY_a3VAIejV6gYI0FEJhgjj2UHDyu76Nwae7Moyo-JL6kvW9pkkau7bzg5gPlcsnXlnMZ1fB8EBPuLIE3VAEkSASuWbTaPvinDDUZgvzQZ3Rnp0heBYMrZuwNhf9n2QH0/s1600/shane-victorino-212x200.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>See? I stole this from Google to underscore my claim. (Because everyone knows pointing at your head means you're psychotic.) </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9xE0z3Ewq4U4gzRHymJJOC-Yi0scqhesvALI2xTQbQ2NyvjnfWenbmh6D580K_dhkxC1fovpxsmajhPgBtvI60IyhIztqYwTMjivJ-OuWrTaegJENwUengciB-xQxeAWanpwxHQtnOaw/s1600/IMG_0902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9xE0z3Ewq4U4gzRHymJJOC-Yi0scqhesvALI2xTQbQ2NyvjnfWenbmh6D580K_dhkxC1fovpxsmajhPgBtvI60IyhIztqYwTMjivJ-OuWrTaegJENwUengciB-xQxeAWanpwxHQtnOaw/s400/IMG_0902.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Boom. Ryan Howard. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh44fWqmptA0WF89IN5QGbVQtssxLtiEMEXI9H-fZNTfGO2xcV3MgI-wm5oZAMafTDulgIeZ728NHzlS39p_99lp_oV_EgaCcqkBVQnhoTg10BT2eZgPUn3PY76Acy89EU-NDnWrAtQrK8/s1600/IMG_0887.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh44fWqmptA0WF89IN5QGbVQtssxLtiEMEXI9H-fZNTfGO2xcV3MgI-wm5oZAMafTDulgIeZ728NHzlS39p_99lp_oV_EgaCcqkBVQnhoTg10BT2eZgPUn3PY76Acy89EU-NDnWrAtQrK8/s320/IMG_0887.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Boom. Seth Huber posing like an Asian. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And that's about all I have to say about that. The power is still on, and the storm seems to have subsided. Wow. This is a first. As for my blog post title, I guess a bit of explanation is in order. I just read an article in <i>The New Yorker </i>(I truly am <b>that</b> pretentious), and the writer mentions a Chinese youth who uses the phrase, "Oh my Lady Gaga!" to express surprise. This seems such a very good depiction of Chinese youth today that I giggled over it for a good 20 minutes. I can just picture one of my little Chinese students, 8-year-old Jerry, exclaiming "Oh my Lady Gaga," instead of the "Oh my God", of which he was so fond. Ahh, China. How I miss you. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Also, I realized in my last post I forgot to mention that Matt is leaving me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For two weeks in August to to go Korea. (See how I did that? I told you I have drama in my blood.) Someone should come visit me, because we all know I probably won't have a job by then, and while I will have a car, I won't have any company in my fancy new apartment. Think about it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-31280500167599542212011-07-13T11:34:00.000-07:002011-07-13T11:34:38.669-07:00Success!We've done it! We finally have a sofa! The lovely people from Crate and Barrel called on Saturday to set up a delivery appointment for Sunday, and then (and this is the really amazing part, guys), <i>they actually showed up! With the sofa! </i>Unbelievable. I wasn't here when it happened (I was busy doing some important work at the lake), but apparently they had to take the door off to wrangle the beast in the apartment. They left without putting the door back on, but that is beside the point. My handy husband put it back in in a jiffy (or an hour). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEQcZnj-JB6OJvESYxAJ6V3It5JTw6sif_dGzyUY7Sfod_NQo8r2QXbYL5iQYWo1qid9c6IgbkCbWGz7d5PGhU7BC17wlJSGd7Rk0ztG9DgFHuVW45rkRtGIqkiAYDVJQddpAsXA-WL1w/s1600/IMG_0873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEQcZnj-JB6OJvESYxAJ6V3It5JTw6sif_dGzyUY7Sfod_NQo8r2QXbYL5iQYWo1qid9c6IgbkCbWGz7d5PGhU7BC17wlJSGd7Rk0ztG9DgFHuVW45rkRtGIqkiAYDVJQddpAsXA-WL1w/s400/IMG_0873.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>How d'ya like them apples? We have since rearranged and our living room doesn't look like this anymore, but I am too lazy to take a new picture. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">God bless that's a pretty looking couch. Don't deny it. Later, the woman who sold us the couch from Crate and Barrel called to make sure we were happy with our purchase and that it had arrived in a timely manner. Can you believe that? Customer service at its finest. Take notes, Macy's. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That is about all that is noteworthy in my life at the moment. Our Fourth was pretty uneventful, although we did go floating on the Fox River that Sunday. Then we "watched" fireworks at the lake on Monday (I use the term loosely because we couldn't really see many from where we were). Oh, and we went to the Evanston parade. I thought it would be a bigger deal seeing how everyone from the county showed up, but it wasn't. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg97l-E2TsgvyUB6ziVUVofUQXq4HQdw7vF_VuBb3WYCS2vIwmqy4GP8hlJ4zsUtgrG-19Pm91IwruL2sccvKJ7c7HqOERkL_VoVi88dy9tbQRzrhc2bZ9zFAyaHrDJ9qO-aBUJfxcJGVY/s1600/IMG_0768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg97l-E2TsgvyUB6ziVUVofUQXq4HQdw7vF_VuBb3WYCS2vIwmqy4GP8hlJ4zsUtgrG-19Pm91IwruL2sccvKJ7c7HqOERkL_VoVi88dy9tbQRzrhc2bZ9zFAyaHrDJ9qO-aBUJfxcJGVY/s320/IMG_0768.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Still better than China's parade from 2009: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3FT07PuH2xG_7FsqLvK_gswLwfphTQgguwX3gRUovtHiYhuQFWTvwwW38kY2rIRbQMuLAUkAAhNwI7FziroZo8nCtWY01rcACbPPQ4UwSA6rB5wEEGDMUAhC0X3gEyvU8s9EyuG8WBV4/s1600/May+2009+-+Dushanzi%252C+China+II+067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3FT07PuH2xG_7FsqLvK_gswLwfphTQgguwX3gRUovtHiYhuQFWTvwwW38kY2rIRbQMuLAUkAAhNwI7FziroZo8nCtWY01rcACbPPQ4UwSA6rB5wEEGDMUAhC0X3gEyvU8s9EyuG8WBV4/s400/May+2009+-+Dushanzi%252C+China+II+067.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Admittedly, this wasn't actually on the 4th of July, but somewhere near then. They started marching like this at least once a day, every day, after the Urumqi riots. Ahh, China. How I miss you.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Last week I helped throw a baby shower for Angela, head roadwife of UOP, for her second child. I hope she had a good time, even though I kept winning at the "Don't Say 'Baby'" game. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmIOLVISoGStTCfaltTo_jEg-Ny8ikdNcmM9H-LD36qiOD0YMsWuosvwsina056dlplwrDZzxpnlh_ww9r-VvPS2tncGDhMhI2GsMmUehx3nAeDQhyZjbU5cX0Ksis-Rn2uWt6-qhy64/s1600/IMG_0843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmIOLVISoGStTCfaltTo_jEg-Ny8ikdNcmM9H-LD36qiOD0YMsWuosvwsina056dlplwrDZzxpnlh_ww9r-VvPS2tncGDhMhI2GsMmUehx3nAeDQhyZjbU5cX0Ksis-Rn2uWt6-qhy64/s320/IMG_0843.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Angela, her gifts, and Aunt Bit's "shower umbrella". She is 8.5 months pregnant, by the way - not that you can tell. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh yes, and Monday morning we had a storm, again, and lost our power, again. It's starting to feel a little like Dumai, Indonesia, where we had rolling blackouts daily. Luckily, we had it back by that afternoon, unlike most of the rest of the 700,000 homes who were reportedly without on Monday. The stop lights were out as well, which caused Matt to have to work from home on Tuesday. Boy, did he hate that. The lights are still out today, but he went in anyway, because he couldn't stand to be away from the office for one more minute. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Anyway, thus ends the Saga of the Couch. Fear not, old friends, for next week I will probably have some new drama to tell you about. My prediction is a "Saga of the Car", or "Saga of the Ceiling Fan". This living in America and owning stuff ain't for sissies. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-47344738010642186272011-07-07T10:14:00.000-07:002011-07-07T10:14:09.874-07:00The Curious Incident of the Missing Couch from the Furniture StoreThe following account is a true story. No names, dates, locations or times were changed to protect anyone's identity. <br />
<br />
<i><b>I.</b></i><br />
About three months ago (May 7th, 2011, 11:26 a.m., to be overly precise), we ordered a sofa, chair and ottoman from our dear friends at Macy's Furniture. At the time, we were told this couch was not available just yet at the warehouse, and it would probably be available to us by mid-June. We asked if we could buy the floor models and were told they were not for sale at this particular time. Bummer, but everyone knows that we travelers are extremely laid-back and easygoing by nature (as a rule, we continually ooze nonchalance from our every pore), so we decided this would not be a problem. (Also, we were going on vacation and would be in glorious Spain for two of those four weeks.) Done deal. <br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<b><i>II.</i></b><br />
Upon our return from Spain, we received an email from Macy's stating that our delivery date would be pushed back to late June. Damn! We decided to resume our search for a replacement sofa, but didn't want to cancel the other until we found a new one. Bought a new ottoman instead. Canceled old ottoman.<br />
<br />
<b><i>III.</i></b><br />
Received another email from Macy's in which the date was pushed back again, this time to July 2nd. Found out the floor models were finally on sale! Called Odette, our saleswoman (I use the term very loosely at this point, as she seemed to be doing everything she could to lose our business), to ask if we could buy the floor models. No, she'd already sold the floor couch to someone else. Thanks for the heads up, Odette. <br />
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<b><i>IV. </i></b><br />
Received another email. Date pushed back until July 9th. Bought the aforementioned new chairs. Called three times to cancel old chair. Got no response. <br />
<br />
<b><i>V.</i></b><br />
Received yet another email. Date was pushed back to August 19th. Apparently Macy's not only did not have the sofa in stock, but they had to first grow the cotton, pick it, spin it into thread, make the fabric, dye it, and ultimately assemble and ship the entire couch before we would receive it. Called and canceled the couch. Went shopping in a last-ditch effort to find a new couch that we could have immediately. Got depressed. Went in <i>one last time</i> to Crate and Barrel, where we stumbled upon their End of Season Floor Model Sale. Found a new sofa, which is even cheaper (therefore better) than the other one! It will be here on Sunday. Finally caught a break. Boom. <br />
<br />
<b><i>VI. </i></b> (I know this is getting tiresome. Imagine how bad it was to live through it.) Our old friend Odette called to ask if we were sure we wanted to cancel. Yes, Odette. Yes. "Well, we've had your sofa in the warehouse for weeks now, and we were just waiting on the chair. If you like, I can sell you the floor model chair, and get you the whole set ASAP!" Wow. That information would have been useful to me yesterday. Or "weeks" ago when the couch got to the warehouse. Thanks, woman. You have easily secured your place in history as the worst salesperson of all time. Needless to say, we stuck to our decision to cancel the order. <br />
<br />
Moral of the story: Don't buy furniture from Macy's. Ever. Even if it's on sale. Even if it's "de best" deal. <i>Even</i> if it is a piece of Martha Stewart finery which only Macy's carries! Just say no. <br />
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Secondary moral: Don't buy furniture at all. Buy lawn chairs. Preferably from a yard sale. <br />
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I miss my hotel.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-13398145287716690162011-06-29T12:50:00.000-07:002011-06-29T12:50:37.563-07:00On Wednesdays, We Wear Pink<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Just as I suspected, the excitement factor of my blog posts has gone down dramatically since we stopped traveling. I guess that's to be expected, but it is still vaguely unsettling - the way the winner of the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/spierzchala/66232046/">Ugliest Dog Contest</a> is unsettling. I'd like to say this onslaught of boring posts isn't my fault, but I'd be lying. Mostly it is. I could make it a bit more interesting, but I haven't had much to work with the past few weeks. (Never mind that epic 60 hour power outage that almost exclusively struck our building after the storm last week. No one wants to hear about that.)<br />
<br />
Until my Arkansas friends came to town, that is. It is a documented fact that we Arkansawyers know how to kick the fun-factor up a notch. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1xRVVQp0C_BkkZGuzKzQ6pdDLTwVVJI2OBoo5ea5hbzpEb7u2ZXVOxUNGFVCqQiaoVqlBGNYxkA6CvCuqUCbWiheKw9vKQAqDtl3cdXx1g2Bd_e17sbpbdAI1VLZHt2dw8J7SZkb52uo/s1600/IMG_9783.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1xRVVQp0C_BkkZGuzKzQ6pdDLTwVVJI2OBoo5ea5hbzpEb7u2ZXVOxUNGFVCqQiaoVqlBGNYxkA6CvCuqUCbWiheKw9vKQAqDtl3cdXx1g2Bd_e17sbpbdAI1VLZHt2dw8J7SZkb52uo/s400/IMG_9783.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>See, we are a blast. </i></div><br />
Aside from Allison spending a good 24 hours explaining to me what "hipsters" are, (somehow I missed that entire sub-cultural movement. Blame it on India.) Matt and I spent most of our time showing off our prowess as hot-shot big city dwellers and exposing the girls as the country bumpkins they really are. Mostly we followed Matt around as he took us on the awe-inducing, ever-gleaming, lightning-fast CTA train into downtown, holding our breath surreptitiously so as not to gag from the stench of urine that seems to linger in every car of the transit system. We got swept up in the sweaty masses of the Taste of Chicago, and swiftly moved on to the more comfortable quarters of Lincoln Park's Summerfest celebration. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjR54emBGkdcHjk9RfInV7jAnO2UGk0l1gDt7t6fyNXU36QCK6LFucqqZ1P_4QDoGgJJRVk22HRwYWttf7nnqnq0mkFZKj0UQqz05RiLgUchozLxnJSCpq-vqbx2Y7j3QIM93QukhEQ4/s1600/IMG_9780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjR54emBGkdcHjk9RfInV7jAnO2UGk0l1gDt7t6fyNXU36QCK6LFucqqZ1P_4QDoGgJJRVk22HRwYWttf7nnqnq0mkFZKj0UQqz05RiLgUchozLxnJSCpq-vqbx2Y7j3QIM93QukhEQ4/s400/IMG_9780.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Before my inbox gets overloaded with questions regarding where to find those masks: you're out of luck. We got those in Germany. Best impulse buy ever. </i></div><br />
Later, we marveled at the treasures on display at the Chicago Antique Market Festival, where Allison bought a $3 necklace of unknown material (possibly silver, in which case - Score! Possibly tin, in which case it's probably recyclable), Rachael bought a nuts and bolts bracelet (it looks just like it sounds), and Matt and I found the best prize of all: <b>two</b> leather office chairs! If you aren't jumping out of your skin with enthusiasm at this very moment, that's only because I haven't told you yet that we got them for the meager price of $75 <i>for the pair! </i>Come on! That is amazing. That's like $4 a chair or something incredible like that. I'm a little fuzzy on the math. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwuBsK4CfLaQZUZ-Ym7YpYFLEoI4X9uiE5bi1E7_ZzXxjBJ31jBDcM2C9ZwZvMQN6vZzHmixLbM5Bk9NG4QX5ddx2ZUoKSTErWWjSXvohnn3fYc-3Lu5IpwPqNjrRbSxMoBtyyGl3wCA4/s1600/IMG_9791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwuBsK4CfLaQZUZ-Ym7YpYFLEoI4X9uiE5bi1E7_ZzXxjBJ31jBDcM2C9ZwZvMQN6vZzHmixLbM5Bk9NG4QX5ddx2ZUoKSTErWWjSXvohnn3fYc-3Lu5IpwPqNjrRbSxMoBtyyGl3wCA4/s400/IMG_9791.JPG" width="266" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>See? They're even on casters. Who doesn't love casters? </i></div><br />
These chairs not only give us a place to sit while we await our ever-absent Macy's sofa (which, let's be honest, we should probably chalk up to a scam at this point), but they also proved to be a hot commodity at the festival. No sooner had Matt and I left to get cash from the ATM than a scavenging couple came up and offered the woman $150 for the chairs. Thankfully Rachael and Allison were there to bare their teeth, sprout hair from their bodies, and morph into rabid werewolves, thereby scaring off those and any more amazing-chair thieves. The couple asked me to sell them just one chair for $75 (ensuring me a free chair), but I told them I needed the pair. I'm not sure if that's true, but I didn't like the look of that guy. Plus, I probably did need both, as evidenced by the lack of sofa situation. <br />
<br />
Anyway, after the excitement of the weekend, we are now back to just the two of us, in our humdrum day-to-day activities. Today, I'm making potstickers. Tomorrow it's a potato frittata. This might end up being a food blog, but probably not. Unless it turns into an "I'm not sure how to cook but God bless I'm going to persevere" food blog. Doubtful. </div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-46555619835326940412011-06-20T07:25:00.000-07:002011-06-20T07:25:35.494-07:00Domestimacated<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It has taken almost a month, but we are finally settling in here at <i>Casa de Former Travelers</i>. We (and by we of course I mean mostly I... I've got to earn my keep in some way) have unpacked almost every box, and put almost everything in place. Well, we've put things in a place. It might not be a fully realized and organized apartment yet, but we're working on it. Who knew unpacking was such a chore? Most of my first week here was spent sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes and mountains of packing paper, shaking my head in disbelief at why we felt the need to store most of these things for three years. A broken teapot. A broken lampshade. Three broken chairs. (All of these things were broken before the movers even touched them.) A package of chocolate covered pretzels. A half-empty box of soup. Three used candles, etc, etc. I think we might be recovering hoarders. Also, for those of you who have never had the pleasure of dealing with the results of professional packers, I can only hope and pray that you do experience it at some point in your life. While it is wonderful to have all your possessions packed for you - each piece wrapped in thousands of sheets of paper and then stuffed in its own four-foot-tall box - you have to keep an eye on those guys, for when they say they pack everything, they mean it. A few of my favorite finds: dirty dishes with caked on food, a stack of the library's CDs we borrowed for the wedding (a hefty late fee on those, I'm guessing), a coffee maker<i> with the filter and old, moldy coffee grounds </i>stuck in it, as well as my favorite find - a Fry Daddy <i>with 3-year-old fry oil </i>sitting inside. It's bad enough we even own a Fry-Daddy (you can take the girl out of Arkansas...), but to have the oil still sitting in it? Come on! Yet despite all this, I know I only have myself (and my husband) to blame. Apparently you're supposed to get all your items ready to be packed <i>before</i> the packers pack them. What a novel idea. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbA-c7ysuoEfPUiE-RudA-80ukf3XOiprQobnWyrKZ2O9DJvdmWeJ1hCMyEHNbXkTB9D-pNYISb_YPjI7NGmhyphenhyphen3_mWfg6-f7EJbOM6b92cDN2z3vw33Vj2UbtZ_crlQKndzEbA0-LWDTU/s1600/IMG_9764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbA-c7ysuoEfPUiE-RudA-80ukf3XOiprQobnWyrKZ2O9DJvdmWeJ1hCMyEHNbXkTB9D-pNYISb_YPjI7NGmhyphenhyphen3_mWfg6-f7EJbOM6b92cDN2z3vw33Vj2UbtZ_crlQKndzEbA0-LWDTU/s400/IMG_9764.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>It may not look like much, but it was. Kind of</i>. </div><br />
We still don't have all our furniture, but we're getting there. Our discontinued (and probably soon to be collector's items) Martha Stewart sofa and chair have yet to make an appearance, but I think it will be soon and very soon. Possibly next week. Thank you Macy's for your prompt and courteous service. (I'm kidding. They were pretty courteous.) In the meantime, Matt and I have been sharing the old sleeper couch which Arpit and Hema helped us move. Why, even bother, you ask? Who can know? In theory it is because we only have one bedroom and a pull-out sofa bed will be nice when company comes a-calling. The reality is probably that we are cheap and didn't want to fork out $300+ for other seating items for the sunroom. Also, I mentioned we were recover<i>ing</i> hoarders, not recover<i>ed</i>. The tense makes all the difference. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGs7QPWnZZC7d-ULMjY4-7HFvpzAh_0PTXtS68-BB8GX84etSKGNdWGToapY4K4YeI_z4KsYU0w8yjyZnnOwuqc2Qh8Ws56WN1pCWAzaatqL2ucecZoHTp-Ox_PeHDgN9ARGy3EK05GhA/s1600/IMG_9766_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGs7QPWnZZC7d-ULMjY4-7HFvpzAh_0PTXtS68-BB8GX84etSKGNdWGToapY4K4YeI_z4KsYU0w8yjyZnnOwuqc2Qh8Ws56WN1pCWAzaatqL2ucecZoHTp-Ox_PeHDgN9ARGy3EK05GhA/s320/IMG_9766_1.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Ain't that fine? We have since put a slipcover on it, making it look slightly less tacky. Or slightly more tacky. I haven't decided which yet. </i></div><br />
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Aunt Mickie took me to a used furniture store in the area last week, where we met up with Betsy and Riley, and then Dave showed up as well. It was quite the family affair. I immediately fell in love with almost everything in the store, and took Matt back there on Saturday, where we ran into Dave again! Between the three of us, I think we put a pretty big dent in their inventory, which will give them room to put out more stuff for me to buy. <br />
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I still don't have a job, and am in the process of scouring (and by scouring I mean lazily searching when I get the chance, which isn't very often considering I'm still on borrowed Internet) the Web looking for employment, and thinking of ways to beef up my resume. It shouldn't be too hard. Who wouldn't want to hire a journalism/English major with no experience but who has taught English in several (three) different countries? That's what I thought. I'll keep truckin'. <br />
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In the meantime, I will continue to settle in here, asking those questions that surely plague newly domesticated couples everywhere, such as: Why is there blue lint on every surface in my bathroom? How do I get rid of it? Can I wash my clothes in the dishwasher? (- Stepbrothers) And when is housekeeping going to come in and clean my room? <br />
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</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-87421516153096321972011-06-07T12:10:00.000-07:002011-06-07T12:10:50.286-07:00Spain - "I think dis is de best"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIHuU-88CH5WKH2phH32LEecwiQ2rdZA3qmJerf1TyDxBHt5N2e81-5ALVVQujFpuebPpIcKagTkUMWKXWGzGruUgTSns9DWglfhm1eyhjZBdrxEWQ4G3iPaC4znn-em_ZydHL7qRK7Ag/s1600/Grenada+Bull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIHuU-88CH5WKH2phH32LEecwiQ2rdZA3qmJerf1TyDxBHt5N2e81-5ALVVQujFpuebPpIcKagTkUMWKXWGzGruUgTSns9DWglfhm1eyhjZBdrxEWQ4G3iPaC4znn-em_ZydHL7qRK7Ag/s400/Grenada+Bull.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>El toro. They have these huge bulls on the side of the highway all over Spain. I was impressed. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As you all know, we went to Spain on a last - minute honeymoon. We have since returned to America and are stressed and pressed for time moving into our new apartment. I was just going to skip blogging about Spain, but after repeated requests for info and pictures, I realized I just couldn't let it slide. We here at "She's Gone Rogue" strive to keep our fans happy, yet we really are exceedingly busy and don't have Internet at home now, so we will try to keep this as short and sweet as possible. And now, courtesy of the free wifi at Atlanta Bread Company all the way in Fayetteville, AR, I present to you: Spain: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Day 1 - Madrid</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Flew into Madrid. Got there around 9:00 am. Were exhausted, but knew we had to fight the jetlag. Did the only thing we knew how to do: hit the streets with our guidebook and toured the city until we literally fell over. Took an impromptu nap on a park bench for about an hour after we decided to sit for "just a minute." Woke up with all our belongings still intact. Close call. Ate some delicious Spanish food (ie, jamon). Went to bed around 11pm. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xyu8xJqf2FZ-jMUhRmRtbpaditJm41YiX9aWQtv_VXc-gZAKIm0O-1HspbTZXtS2O4I_VqaMclGgoYw7bSIMt5VMRO09oTYO2uMAnmoe-uJ8rcIH5KTlhANhQR9evr3W2MefcCGA9ck/s1600/Jamon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xyu8xJqf2FZ-jMUhRmRtbpaditJm41YiX9aWQtv_VXc-gZAKIm0O-1HspbTZXtS2O4I_VqaMclGgoYw7bSIMt5VMRO09oTYO2uMAnmoe-uJ8rcIH5KTlhANhQR9evr3W2MefcCGA9ck/s400/Jamon.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Jamon at the jamon store. Affectionately known as "Matt's Paradise."</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxubY9DfDwEPswNHQ0U8qODz2pbtL6WnJLYFnSiMPOmL0qJrKo_dx9QEXo7FfklO9M4YWgR6vwW_zJb34Vp_0PxaAfopnKOX35fmOQkRkWAn83GglpXxhETIjp3r0G1xYXnsC6ucfWAns/s1600/Metropolis+Madrid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxubY9DfDwEPswNHQ0U8qODz2pbtL6WnJLYFnSiMPOmL0qJrKo_dx9QEXo7FfklO9M4YWgR6vwW_zJb34Vp_0PxaAfopnKOX35fmOQkRkWAn83GglpXxhETIjp3r0G1xYXnsC6ucfWAns/s320/Metropolis+Madrid.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Metropolis building in Madrid's city center. Possibly the most beloved building by Madrilenos. Modeled after a French building. Oooh, burn. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Day 2 - Madrid</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Awoke refreshed and ready to kick the day's ass. Went to the Prado (famous art museum). Got in for free because it was a holiday. Saved 18 euros. Score. Spent far too long at the Prado, but saw interesting art (mostly religious). Bought a magnet of Goya's depiction of Saturn devouring his son. (Said magnet is now located on refrigerator at home to discourage overeating.) Went to park to drink wine. Went to tapas area at Alberto's suggestion (he thought dis was de best place), and had the first of a long list of the very best tapas in the world. Drank more wine. Went in search of chocolate con churros place. Found it, but the line was far too long. Saw a huge demonstration in the plaza. Didn't know what was going on because didn't speak enough Spanish. Resolved to learn more Spanish. Went to bed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaEOPebv3JntyjvhpKEpsDr9YYDFUgbGZUIJg4P22On4C_f_QtJyS6pskZBF_GjB4iwj4aB1F79IPN5ghlM7v_C4B8KPS8ZWYfQ-xQR5DFR3nWIyI1w0FOCKNfCsGdEKHTXdZb-msyNGU/s1600/IMG_0277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaEOPebv3JntyjvhpKEpsDr9YYDFUgbGZUIJg4P22On4C_f_QtJyS6pskZBF_GjB4iwj4aB1F79IPN5ghlM7v_C4B8KPS8ZWYfQ-xQR5DFR3nWIyI1w0FOCKNfCsGdEKHTXdZb-msyNGU/s320/IMG_0277.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Delicious pintxos (tapas from the Basque region - arguably the best region for tapas). </i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxpT5h6PTetvJltEYuSeljHp2qbjyKLaWB13tJNUzveZu1rL-UFoYbfsQ5t18FgzylqEWErP8-d0XucVR2UnbVVyoI6iNbxhOpKPJ4X-Z_VVdf3rnhkEIEt6EyMQDGTim2wDT7lg60ZE/s1600/IMG_0313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxpT5h6PTetvJltEYuSeljHp2qbjyKLaWB13tJNUzveZu1rL-UFoYbfsQ5t18FgzylqEWErP8-d0XucVR2UnbVVyoI6iNbxhOpKPJ4X-Z_VVdf3rnhkEIEt6EyMQDGTim2wDT7lg60ZE/s320/IMG_0313.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Huge demonstration. Maybe political? Who can know?</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Day 3 - Segovia</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Took the high speed train to the medieval city of Segovia from Madrid. Walked with our two rolling suitcases 30 minutes across cobblestone streets to our hotel. Bad idea. Tooled around. It was cool. Ate the local delicacy, roast suckling pig. Surprisingly good. Went to a castle. Walked up a hill to take pictures. Read on a park bench. Fell asleep on said park bench. Had delicious homemade ravioli dinner. Stayed the night. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kqSMA1j_jtLnj36sV4Uil39yzNOMSGDoTm6GMV6WrLWRyfC-g4dYj7W3i_TsvlEmiZ50kf9U-6lBOyUxjAipCjw3a3e6UR-oRns4XxGMMFSDc1hizGB91eqgkKe84tQbm4BBR9m9umA/s1600/Segovia+Cathedral.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kqSMA1j_jtLnj36sV4Uil39yzNOMSGDoTm6GMV6WrLWRyfC-g4dYj7W3i_TsvlEmiZ50kf9U-6lBOyUxjAipCjw3a3e6UR-oRns4XxGMMFSDc1hizGB91eqgkKe84tQbm4BBR9m9umA/s320/Segovia+Cathedral.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Cathedral in Segovia. Muy cool. </i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj31LR3HyGx4JzyyjG8-58CFehQYg4G0caU7WvXUL2nsfwLgLCcG_fmQwdER2_uer0RKXwbPbQ9W1VXh4xWnQlf6ZR3b6U8o8Tq2evPG1qr_XSWVDVQkl7TmCmj2Pu7xZ1qeSvLnxMBx-U/s1600/Aquaduct.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj31LR3HyGx4JzyyjG8-58CFehQYg4G0caU7WvXUL2nsfwLgLCcG_fmQwdER2_uer0RKXwbPbQ9W1VXh4xWnQlf6ZR3b6U8o8Tq2evPG1qr_XSWVDVQkl7TmCmj2Pu7xZ1qeSvLnxMBx-U/s400/Aquaduct.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Aquaduct left over from Roman times. Very big. Very cool. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-2pl63qRFr5xBJOEiutE3cdAV8A2vISOW7eszVjZgrwzC6HysNROmCLeLz8ltDZdzrh72kIGAyCgSe0Fwexhbokya4ChTlCDVkS4RLtoxh-Ldfwk8RnK9SFE3bAQzZnAAAllYFLk5iA/s1600/castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-2pl63qRFr5xBJOEiutE3cdAV8A2vISOW7eszVjZgrwzC6HysNROmCLeLz8ltDZdzrh72kIGAyCgSe0Fwexhbokya4ChTlCDVkS4RLtoxh-Ldfwk8RnK9SFE3bAQzZnAAAllYFLk5iA/s320/castle.jpg" width="213" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Castle on which the "Sleeping Beauty" castle was modeled. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuxni5zHg1H3WeK0sq38-jSkDBVrG8oS9ZewbPi_HdmsISEPvcjQWY6nFxP6L0ZFDLlUNRvru0IGojCfUJ5hQBl4wD3Rl4oMDkx-x35Y6xT8U0Ba24iLj7Yy7flbgSlkPx_d0k7rJkj9k/s1600/Segovia+view+from+park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuxni5zHg1H3WeK0sq38-jSkDBVrG8oS9ZewbPi_HdmsISEPvcjQWY6nFxP6L0ZFDLlUNRvru0IGojCfUJ5hQBl4wD3Rl4oMDkx-x35Y6xT8U0Ba24iLj7Yy7flbgSlkPx_d0k7rJkj9k/s400/Segovia+view+from+park.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>View of Segovia from the park on the hill. Worth the walk. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Day 4 - Granada</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Took train back to Madrid from Segovia. Rented a car at the train station. Matt drove, obviously. Drove to Granada, approximately four hours. Incredible drive. Amazing countryside. Couldn't find a fast place to stop for lunch, so we skipped it. Went hungry. Arrived in Granada. Checked into beautiful hotel. Walked around the city. Ate Jamon in the room. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-BlMH97388vLTus_sQVfxQSejFmjmJ9rN4ivE_7SXJ1s25q-Ye_ek4Z_gHn78NcOAji3VvRwAekco5MkHW_YntKMFSvuCnAT9Y-6YfA0wmYV0rIjryuuxKZksIYBlwHw-tU1-iAtMsng/s1600/Grenada+countryside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-BlMH97388vLTus_sQVfxQSejFmjmJ9rN4ivE_7SXJ1s25q-Ye_ek4Z_gHn78NcOAji3VvRwAekco5MkHW_YntKMFSvuCnAT9Y-6YfA0wmYV0rIjryuuxKZksIYBlwHw-tU1-iAtMsng/s320/Grenada+countryside.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>View of countryside on the way to Grenada. Those are olive trees. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Day 5 - Granada</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Woke early and drove to , an hour outside of the city. Went on a seven mile hike through the mountains to another city. Would have gone further, but we were completely spent. Hike was amazing - possibly best part of the trip. Possibly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoK9SSFeMw6c0RF8RKIrg48iF4NLRMDdomw4F7OdNOqSl3mCp6IDWWV2unJUxGQfq7y9IpuBAlxwjMpfbLhMXZyTHAumKZFG_PRLk7k2dyv82kbwDGFWE-QoMc76DeevowZGGDUif-WEY/s1600/IMG_0355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoK9SSFeMw6c0RF8RKIrg48iF4NLRMDdomw4F7OdNOqSl3mCp6IDWWV2unJUxGQfq7y9IpuBAlxwjMpfbLhMXZyTHAumKZFG_PRLk7k2dyv82kbwDGFWE-QoMc76DeevowZGGDUif-WEY/s320/IMG_0355.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>View of a lake from up in the mountains. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDU6GEe23QXpXs7GXVIZQayzq2m-vxZkZQROYSICxSAayxtd-VLXnSUsafGNwlM9nI_kvIMHB60xcolGDkOVyoiWNA4dC9x5rdgQWB8z120o4Up4wibGXX-EPvT9hwYwt4p6vpalcF90/s1600/IMG_0359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDU6GEe23QXpXs7GXVIZQayzq2m-vxZkZQROYSICxSAayxtd-VLXnSUsafGNwlM9nI_kvIMHB60xcolGDkOVyoiWNA4dC9x5rdgQWB8z120o4Up4wibGXX-EPvT9hwYwt4p6vpalcF90/s400/IMG_0359.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Town we hiked to. Don't know the name of it, but it was really pretty.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Day 6 - Granada</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Walked around sightseeing, then went and had an unanticipated two hour lunch at a cafe in the shadow of the Alhambra, a Muslim fortress and palace built in the 14th century. Matt freaked out about the time because we had tickets to see the Alhambra's palace at 7, and had to see the rest of the grounds before that. Ran/walked up the hill to the fortress, and sped through the gardens, museums and fortress. Took <b>lots</b> of pictures. Finished in plenty of time to see the palace. Saw palace. Impressive. Took even more pictures. Went down the hill to dinner at a middle eastern restaurant. Had lamb and rice dish. Delicious. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Nn58vBFNzofFSBgjSHz3iYm_fYF_tGN5YuYi3TniXP7FubdPzhuBdcTidQw13Qn_jy8lnYO4tBjqh6cdY9stxnwi-0HPAiEdGsSOuMuMMxZmV8-CqSwtpB3fiKW3bQ-pxWQuqsY7Hkw/s1600/Alhambra+panorama2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Nn58vBFNzofFSBgjSHz3iYm_fYF_tGN5YuYi3TniXP7FubdPzhuBdcTidQw13Qn_jy8lnYO4tBjqh6cdY9stxnwi-0HPAiEdGsSOuMuMMxZmV8-CqSwtpB3fiKW3bQ-pxWQuqsY7Hkw/s640/Alhambra+panorama2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <i>Panorama of the Alhambra from a touristy hill where everyone goes to take pictures. It probably won't show up fully in the blog, so click the picture to see the whole view. Please. I worked hard on it in photoshop.</i></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7F49bW6Rxr99MhlSQP9GbdHl5lJIg9ZkseYEd6VOyV_6SO9zmgUNf1LD3ud5t7ZNM7cnTtXdvqFfstEF77KALLtUc9reZWg4ZOexX1n7eDTbuP2mKH1q_k7spTH5Bl6zeJjT5ovFZlAY/s1600/Grenada.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7F49bW6Rxr99MhlSQP9GbdHl5lJIg9ZkseYEd6VOyV_6SO9zmgUNf1LD3ud5t7ZNM7cnTtXdvqFfstEF77KALLtUc9reZWg4ZOexX1n7eDTbuP2mKH1q_k7spTH5Bl6zeJjT5ovFZlAY/s400/Grenada.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>View of the city from the fortress. </i></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmD2QaGwjrwKBBP1-cdoLkr-GHY4Muy5ehLXFHBr57YYTVAgFn3puqRxuK9hyRiyjw0OjMl9IrhI9ECdXvUYo4_aCTgB3btqxnpoFiCqAhv5q2fxGBaCbRcdZwWiQqxtOgzjk2g0rHruM/s1600/Inside+details.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmD2QaGwjrwKBBP1-cdoLkr-GHY4Muy5ehLXFHBr57YYTVAgFn3puqRxuK9hyRiyjw0OjMl9IrhI9ECdXvUYo4_aCTgB3btqxnpoFiCqAhv5q2fxGBaCbRcdZwWiQqxtOgzjk2g0rHruM/s400/Inside+details.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Inside the palace. This is all carved marble that looks like...</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6ey2yRw-jWq3cXEcC-EdZsmZa1OlKA2NGa2Wbkm_VJ3Z3XjETTKqza9Zxe_rnB2Wbp8-GDnD2KMq2jqwXbhM7skZAL3tjo-2QHVeF_Mu5JDPilDj805Q0-zbCJa-L_6QZpKl8-72ZLA/s1600/Details.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6ey2yRw-jWq3cXEcC-EdZsmZa1OlKA2NGa2Wbkm_VJ3Z3XjETTKqza9Zxe_rnB2Wbp8-GDnD2KMq2jqwXbhM7skZAL3tjo-2QHVeF_Mu5JDPilDj805Q0-zbCJa-L_6QZpKl8-72ZLA/s320/Details.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>this up close. Someone should learn this skill and come to my house and do it on my walls. Please. I'll pay you handsomely in mediocre home-cooked meals. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Day 7 - Sevilla/Seville</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Drove from Granada a couple hours to Sevilla. Ate our first and only paella, which was fantastic and very expensive. Saw a beautiful gothic (maybe?) cathedral. Skipped almost all of the other recommended sights in favor of just wandering around. Ate the BEST tapas and drank beer at an outdoor restaurant just underneath our hotel. Went to bed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJpIOKE6rXY6A_CqbPFBaPVVi8WKMJGOaYjBsYf8XUhsKq4NSjSfc9EBdUW07JabLD0WZN735jsZ2vg9KT1UG8q3YaATn3dCwsaRAYGjSchZmEQHFyAF-duHT5bKZiCvxXFK5ir7G9Do/s1600/IMG_0481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJpIOKE6rXY6A_CqbPFBaPVVi8WKMJGOaYjBsYf8XUhsKq4NSjSfc9EBdUW07JabLD0WZN735jsZ2vg9KT1UG8q3YaATn3dCwsaRAYGjSchZmEQHFyAF-duHT5bKZiCvxXFK5ir7G9Do/s320/IMG_0481.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Might not look like much, but that's just because of my photography skills. It was incredible. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7XVM_MFz9thoInclZz277ug9UXhb9Hx0P1dxKyQJSd9nA0UQ_y2h79e8QceyTelkoQy4He55UFeIJY6uyqxGIvYp0XvuWdbART0LBuFkQZbnojLtMn40q1bO21NImwjESaFNX289AHiw/s1600/IMG_0484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7XVM_MFz9thoInclZz277ug9UXhb9Hx0P1dxKyQJSd9nA0UQ_y2h79e8QceyTelkoQy4He55UFeIJY6uyqxGIvYp0XvuWdbART0LBuFkQZbnojLtMn40q1bO21NImwjESaFNX289AHiw/s320/IMG_0484.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>Seville Cathedral. It is the largest Gothic cathedral and third largest church in the world. You can't tell, but again, that's because of my limited photography skills. </i></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Days 8 through 10 - Costa Brava </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Flew from Seville to Barcelona, then skipped out on all the sights and took a bus to the city of Palafrugell, on the Mediterranean Costa Brava. Checked into a wonderful hotel with a gorgeous beach right under our balcony. Went to said beach. Walked all over town and into neighboring towns to visit different beaches, each possibly more impressive than the last. Saw lots of topless women, and one naked man. On the last day, taxi-ed to Aiguablava, a different but no less amazing costal town. Stayed in a Parador situated on a rock that juts out into the Mediterranean. Learned the meaning of Parador (a hotel located in a historic place such as a castle, palace, convent, monastery, fortresse, etc. I don't know what ours used to be. Not a palace or castle, but it was acceptable anyway). Weather was not up to par on that last day, but what can you do? I'll tell you. You can be persistent, take a walk around the beaches, lay out in the freezing windy conditions by the pool pretending that it is 90 degrees and sunny, and finally give up and go drink wine and play cards in your hotel room. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFn7Ycu5s2fRMwSerJDum3UtpSeZRDCLR76NX-Hma-gEavDLR9fXiFVFBAXssoR2Am8AGr3XlOmA9QDTx6CWUmH5HdbXmbEV8iocdH-AuScu7UO-Cgb99sgNWZQcI3Rptml2UNZlgS4ok/s1600/IMG_0535.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFn7Ycu5s2fRMwSerJDum3UtpSeZRDCLR76NX-Hma-gEavDLR9fXiFVFBAXssoR2Am8AGr3XlOmA9QDTx6CWUmH5HdbXmbEV8iocdH-AuScu7UO-Cgb99sgNWZQcI3Rptml2UNZlgS4ok/s320/IMG_0535.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>View of the beach and restaurant from our balcony in Palafrugell.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKdeLQYjAwA9qLUZgGdeojiJ5ri1-6QQK2cY7AqpKXbtwMijDWf3Guv6bt92d6N0a7I5eUVchswjoT16BBvFogTlQN9Kpw2l45WJVcEFPpDoMUD5nCz752CfS3LsbkPqCObDbA61C5cL0/s1600/IMG_0582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKdeLQYjAwA9qLUZgGdeojiJ5ri1-6QQK2cY7AqpKXbtwMijDWf3Guv6bt92d6N0a7I5eUVchswjoT16BBvFogTlQN9Kpw2l45WJVcEFPpDoMUD5nCz752CfS3LsbkPqCObDbA61C5cL0/s320/IMG_0582.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Beach where we saw the naked man. I don't think he's in this picture, but maybe he is. Feel free to look for him. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiaX2wl0Cn1DZJn6uCDC6wv8kUOjISqcmVM-4fQXS0abT1_LOuAxeTrzvFNZ_7hcvyuMlDlcxQhlMXzG8nX3aAtpjtqzyKSDoKdA1X7-RmNpWijPytHjYWoFy4S2JnfyGl-blfI9A53ls/s1600/IMG_0621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiaX2wl0Cn1DZJn6uCDC6wv8kUOjISqcmVM-4fQXS0abT1_LOuAxeTrzvFNZ_7hcvyuMlDlcxQhlMXzG8nX3aAtpjtqzyKSDoKdA1X7-RmNpWijPytHjYWoFy4S2JnfyGl-blfI9A53ls/s320/IMG_0621.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Third beach. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyphenhyphen0C9jpMA_PUxLTl_wuBBUD9NQPYmRg6AF-fCcSXt9fuKm-Ad-TGUa9Q6uCDn-M1mcgGrywY2jJTrQofi5OyIVDCJoCkxIyoS2Tj84b_S8xsvGhKfFJ_ec6vkv2fhde_sNnh1BC1ENDY/s1600/IMG_0588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyphenhyphen0C9jpMA_PUxLTl_wuBBUD9NQPYmRg6AF-fCcSXt9fuKm-Ad-TGUa9Q6uCDn-M1mcgGrywY2jJTrQofi5OyIVDCJoCkxIyoS2Tj84b_S8xsvGhKfFJ_ec6vkv2fhde_sNnh1BC1ENDY/s320/IMG_0588.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>A rope seen from afar can look like a dead body. Like this one. I was convinced it was a dead body so I had to go investigate. I was wrong. Still, cool rope.</i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Day 11 - Barcelona/Madrid</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Took a bus back to Barcelona. Didn't learn our lesson from Segovia and took our rolling suitcase around the city sightseeing. Went to La Sagrada Familia, or as I call it, Gaudi's church. Walked around it taking pictures and marveling at all the people who were willing to pay 12 euros a piece to go inside. (Note, probably would have forked it over if it hadn't been our last day... my pockets get a little tighter toward the end of a long vacation.) Took bus to airport to fly back to Madrid. Nicest airport I've been to. Good thing, because our flight was delayed two hours. Flew back to Madrid, stayed the night, left early next morning for Amurca. Boom. Spain. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It appears I don't have any pictures downloaded yet from our Parador on the rocks or Barcelona, so I'll have to get those later. Or not at all. Anyway, that was our honeymoon. Now we're back in Amurca, living in the real world, setting up our new apartment, and reeling from the prices of everything. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
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</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-26275970302254107122011-05-09T13:28:00.000-07:002011-05-09T13:28:56.107-07:00Why Don't We Do It Off The Road?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Well, I guess it's as official as it's going to get, folks: we're coming off the road. I'm sure most of you know this, but for those of you who don't, Matt has taken a job in Tech Services with UOP in Des Plaines, which means no more full time travel for us. We just signed a lease on an (amazing) apartment in Evanston, and we are in the process of becoming all domesticated and crap. <div><br />
</div><div>Sorry if this is a surprise to some... we've been talking about it for a while, but Matt didn't want to say anything before it was set in stone. (A task which, as you can imagine, was a little too much for me. I told a lot of people in Arkansas right off the bat, but I waited until we started looking for apartments to say anything to anyone else. See, I was kind of good.) I guess signing a lease means we're locked in. Oh boy. If you are sensing that the tone of this posting is neither overjoyed nor excited, then you have judged it correctly. I commend you. Neither of us was really ready to stop traveling, but we felt like we didn't really have a choice. Scratch that; we DID in fact have a choice: come off the road, or go spend at least a year (probably more) in India on another assignment. In Gujarat, to be exact. Just a couple hours away from Baroda, but from what I understand, immensely worse. The living conditions there are supposed to be pretty terrible, and more importantly, there is no big expat women's community to see me through those long, hot, lonely, depressing days in which I'm filled with bitter resentment toward UOP, Matt, Indian people, curry, rats, cows, trash, dogs, etc. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Soooo, obviously we're not cut out for more Gujarat. We'll let someone else handle that while we set up shop in our awesome new rehabilitated vintage apartment in the beautiful and lively community of Evanston! I've promised a few of you some pictures, and of course I'm not one to go back on my word so...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSdp7pNVvyMRnMhIsG30lu55JeIf_YBNd-Zj-ZbRCP72YcLS-BxBc3gnxyrf0LGAsQ5Vn1Dl3oM58CRqaHkdUhzB0lwKrdevoNVb5Vy_jTBotoCo8Opf_qUpIy11kww8wH1WqrZD-8s2Y/s1600/IMG_0197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSdp7pNVvyMRnMhIsG30lu55JeIf_YBNd-Zj-ZbRCP72YcLS-BxBc3gnxyrf0LGAsQ5Vn1Dl3oM58CRqaHkdUhzB0lwKrdevoNVb5Vy_jTBotoCo8Opf_qUpIy11kww8wH1WqrZD-8s2Y/s400/IMG_0197.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Here is our new living room! I especially love the built-in shelves around the fireplace. And plenty of room for our friends and family to come visit us! (This was not the case with our old Park Ridge apartment, in case you've forgotten.)</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucLAEC7YkN6HKpABiQXM6kfVf5MQXoEMuUuVixw33rQSGqhEupSeiA1t6izGqIMdQRe8Zai5sAZrQnukTPk6XdHBcClDY11FTeWS0otJiXhr4TPhXOVtn4P9Bau4q_PfQFrtM3A1Hhdk/s1600/IMG_0195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiucLAEC7YkN6HKpABiQXM6kfVf5MQXoEMuUuVixw33rQSGqhEupSeiA1t6izGqIMdQRe8Zai5sAZrQnukTPk6XdHBcClDY11FTeWS0otJiXhr4TPhXOVtn4P9Bau4q_PfQFrtM3A1Hhdk/s400/IMG_0195.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Dining room, with a view into the living room and sun room</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ODiubBsxmGmyUrlanbvR2kGayJQIBxnXCPCHovUh84vBJk2R-9PnHqFb-PhjPvx2aV3Cnbf3E8KlqHnMxkqA7U54ktbt2RJrOQKmB6jlB0NaYvpCpZaFTPmpsCLDto7wCTVl7pxi_sU/s1600/IMG_0196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ODiubBsxmGmyUrlanbvR2kGayJQIBxnXCPCHovUh84vBJk2R-9PnHqFb-PhjPvx2aV3Cnbf3E8KlqHnMxkqA7U54ktbt2RJrOQKmB6jlB0NaYvpCpZaFTPmpsCLDto7wCTVl7pxi_sU/s320/IMG_0196.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Sun room. This is bigger than it looks in this picture... there are two extra windows and more floor space. Probably big enough for me to do yoga in the mornings so people walking by can stop and watch!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-oyNhkk0Qa7HNlVF_wqhsjmrEaHc3GNXNdJmL7n-yBNIku71GnjMj5GVYL6t2mohOgv_4XihrHLsImVFukKvHxMNysjPMoweSoTPG2tHc3QO3vvC6og6yO2CQx8NnKVIEyFuPxoVXKS8/s1600/IMG_0202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-oyNhkk0Qa7HNlVF_wqhsjmrEaHc3GNXNdJmL7n-yBNIku71GnjMj5GVYL6t2mohOgv_4XihrHLsImVFukKvHxMNysjPMoweSoTPG2tHc3QO3vvC6og6yO2CQx8NnKVIEyFuPxoVXKS8/s320/IMG_0202.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Isn't this the cutest little bathroom you've ever seen? (Emphasis on cute. And little.)</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6oM3QT_TwA1ZZnL3RggQbjEI7N6otUBOPPvOLHT8e-zVVhie8jixfjHBMbdSWSIyCruHU52bc6DgsOWhpT-yfGkT5ecjKi6JFPoODNYc8kmZLPqNfyorOThhBuEnIj3yxpvaIZva5oXs/s1600/IMG_0205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6oM3QT_TwA1ZZnL3RggQbjEI7N6otUBOPPvOLHT8e-zVVhie8jixfjHBMbdSWSIyCruHU52bc6DgsOWhpT-yfGkT5ecjKi6JFPoODNYc8kmZLPqNfyorOThhBuEnIj3yxpvaIZva5oXs/s320/IMG_0205.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Pretty good size kitchen with...</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8b3AUoVQfbyrWAb9J_cFVRyepV4IK6kN81LDavwh11ovqJbwW-JEBE04LESmQiaz1HeM-FClfumOxVw6tpzrSM83qXmUwWgG7QrwwZi-TDI0qb_tvbBug3g_3D7Xsa7o34uRrJ5qDSk/s1600/IMG_0204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS8b3AUoVQfbyrWAb9J_cFVRyepV4IK6kN81LDavwh11ovqJbwW-JEBE04LESmQiaz1HeM-FClfumOxVw6tpzrSM83qXmUwWgG7QrwwZi-TDI0qb_tvbBug3g_3D7Xsa7o34uRrJ5qDSk/s320/IMG_0204.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>A Butler's Pantry! How quaint and fabulous. </i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Anyway, the bedroom is a normal size, <b>but</b> there are two big closets for all of our sundries, <b>and</b> we have a storage unit in the basement of the building. Cha-ching. See, I can get excited about this when I want to. One more "surprise" (I've already told most people about this, too... Don't tell me secrets. I can't be trusted) for us: After three long years, (filled with many trials, lots of screaming and some wrestling matches that make WWE look like child's play) we are finally going on a honeymoon! (I bet you thought I was going to say we were splitting up, didn't you? False. We are in a very happy and stable marriage. I promise.) After about two days of deliberation - mostly researching cheap tickets - we have decided to go to Spain! We leave Monday. It is going to be amazing. In the words of Alberto, our Spanish co-worker from India: "I think dis is de best." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So that's all my news. Don't be too jealous about the apartment - you are all more than welcome any time. Even people I don't know who might be reading this. Feel free to come over. I'm not a good cook, but my husband is. He will hook you up with a fresh meal and a... warm bath? (Obviously I haven't entertained in a while. I'm not sure what to offer people anymore.) And don't fret about our amazing, fantastic, wonderfully incredible honeymoon to Espana either. Soon and very soon I will be back in America looking for a job. Back to reality. Or, as Nate so lovingly put it "living in reality for the first time." Thanks, brother. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4Kn4UKqK436Y64WA45KHDFjO2K23jOW9wKS1V44M14n5atv0mm5_mfL0nB76wXD_l3wCamPigyQHGPVbNI4mt-SWpuotsxBef9RrykxaXg9RgMZgz21pyOH2bwwAMmTCspWwe9ZGV8Q/s1600/IMG_0145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4Kn4UKqK436Y64WA45KHDFjO2K23jOW9wKS1V44M14n5atv0mm5_mfL0nB76wXD_l3wCamPigyQHGPVbNI4mt-SWpuotsxBef9RrykxaXg9RgMZgz21pyOH2bwwAMmTCspWwe9ZGV8Q/s320/IMG_0145.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>This is us. We are about to be grown ups. Maybe.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">P.S. This is not an April Fool's joke. That would just be wrong. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">P.P.S. I'm not pregnant, nor do I plan on becoming pregnant in the next 1+ years. Stop holding your breath. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div></div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-48382165670571013162011-05-06T20:53:00.000-07:002011-05-06T20:53:30.952-07:00Flashback<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I have been having some pretty severe India flashbacks recently, which are exacerbated by the dozens of Indians staying at our hotel. I'm sure they are nice people, and I have nothing against them personally, but hey, I've already stayed at a hotel with Indians. For eight months. Also, this hotel has kitchens in every room, which is nice, but unfortunately, they are not very well ventilated, so whatever anyone cooks floods the hallways (and elevators and lobby) with the smell of whatever they cooked. In case you weren't aware, Indians like to cook food - curries to be exact. They like to cook it in their hotel-room kitchen. Again, I will stress that all of this is fine and I have nothing against them cooking or curries in general. What I do have a problem with is the curry smell that floats under my door and through my walls, permeating my dreams and giving me nightmares of Baroda. I think I have PTSD. <br />
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Further enhancing my flashbacks are the photos my friend Dori sent me from our <a href="http://gonerogue.blogspot.com/2011/02/go-shorty-its-your-birthday.html">scavenger hunt party</a> we attended shortly before we left. I love the pictures, but am having a pretty severe reaction on a mental/emotional level just looking at them. Maybe some people just aren't cut out for Gujarat. Maybe I'm one of them. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCAy0Io09IwviFD4bZBEeZGOs3bpniWv7wPhJa76oHnDmcd0pn7O-p-uUwLQAb_OAxghca8f9Dwvf7BWKy4Pns-IHM1O9t5emFimxBhd0APHHXSXaoDnSSX8pylxHtXNyjoUob0C_36M/s1600/Scavenger+Hunt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCAy0Io09IwviFD4bZBEeZGOs3bpniWv7wPhJa76oHnDmcd0pn7O-p-uUwLQAb_OAxghca8f9Dwvf7BWKy4Pns-IHM1O9t5emFimxBhd0APHHXSXaoDnSSX8pylxHtXNyjoUob0C_36M/s400/Scavenger+Hunt.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Me, Ken (Dori's husband), and some other lady whose name I don't remember posing for one of our scavenger hunt pictures. We had to take a picture of all of us in an auto. Not sure if the driver needed to be there or if he just wanted to be included. If I had to guess, I'd go with the latter. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiaFA9i5ASu3wJeKiGByrR8S81JKDTUCgEIAleOJIPepe_jFEY6L02w9GlgkJnRLBE1x8bYuW_dHkm8UoGrqj3VQVUmzZ498NzbMI8m7fefWqcO__n2w3v3OlAjK36mJwWMEWhs6Izvs0/s1600/Scavenger+Hunt+Hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiaFA9i5ASu3wJeKiGByrR8S81JKDTUCgEIAleOJIPepe_jFEY6L02w9GlgkJnRLBE1x8bYuW_dHkm8UoGrqj3VQVUmzZ498NzbMI8m7fefWqcO__n2w3v3OlAjK36mJwWMEWhs6Izvs0/s400/Scavenger+Hunt+Hotel.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Us with one of the front entrance guys at the hotel. (Another mandatory scavenger hunt picture.) I actually really liked him. Once, he had a questionable mole or tumor or something cut off the back of his neck. I know this because he wore a bandage around for a while and I finally had to get a translator to explain what happened. On a lighter note, check out that mustache!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyEOrnJmzU2qtIrUa2Zty3WQU4GeFCu8kv_oxXz_3uhTSlhYrz6xZQEc1FldJYb3RDSAw9LZnDi4348AYeWa3KCtzo7HFnGhqMITAHBCIT6NqpYAvsJ75UfRCDJHXyjPw8uPeQ-eyhRNY/s1600/Scavenger+Hunt+McDonalds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyEOrnJmzU2qtIrUa2Zty3WQU4GeFCu8kv_oxXz_3uhTSlhYrz6xZQEc1FldJYb3RDSAw9LZnDi4348AYeWa3KCtzo7HFnGhqMITAHBCIT6NqpYAvsJ75UfRCDJHXyjPw8uPeQ-eyhRNY/s320/Scavenger+Hunt+McDonalds.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>With Ronald. Classic.</i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'd also like to mention (in case I haven't before) that my team came in second in the scavenger hunt. Matt's team came in first. BUT one of his team member's lived right across the street and had most of the items on the list already. So he wins, but we'll put an asterisk next to it. Matt 1*, Cait 100 (I'm counting all the things I win against him in life. Like Boggle, Scrabble, Taboo, reading, writing and arithmetic, etc). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVT4SXnkVsCJwtEWBJYSuEucoaKA_vuBCDYQ0zKFZMGkTw9RNbO-9i2x_PNmerI1oIAYVK52fI2FlxEk6p0ougxfqfZaZYe7vCfh0repca_pmP2gHLKcEZQ8NlzcRbufHME8oeFpg1kBY/s1600/Matt+and+Cait+Scavenger+Hunt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVT4SXnkVsCJwtEWBJYSuEucoaKA_vuBCDYQ0zKFZMGkTw9RNbO-9i2x_PNmerI1oIAYVK52fI2FlxEk6p0ougxfqfZaZYe7vCfh0repca_pmP2gHLKcEZQ8NlzcRbufHME8oeFpg1kBY/s400/Matt+and+Cait+Scavenger+Hunt.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Us celebrating our victories. We look good in Indian accessories, no? (The answer is no. We don't.) </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In other news, Sunday is Mother's Day, and you know what that means: Six Flags Great America! Matt and I have made a semi-tradition of going to Six Flags on either Mother's Day or Father's Day for the past few years. It's awesome because there are no lines, so we can ride the Superman as many times as our stomachs will let us! More flags, more fun!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-34638951605892574912011-04-20T14:37:00.000-07:002011-04-20T14:37:30.693-07:00For Mary, With Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I don't really have much to write about now that I'm back in good old Amurca, but my friend Mary is apparently bored out of her skull and has asked me to post something (anything!) for her to read. I do this for her and no one else, because she is still stuck in India, and people stuck in India deserve a little special treatment. <br />
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Anyway, as you may or may not know, upon my return from India, I decided to hop around the USA for a while visiting friends and family (yes, it is a very luxurious life that I lead). My first stop was to see the Correnti family in Missouri. Because they are so powerful and influential, they had held Christmas for us until we arrived in March. They also held our birthdays. They're <i>that</i> big of a deal. It was really fun visiting with everyone and, of course, opening all our goodies. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Sqx3ZpFdTMIMUkqiEp5JO_GcgOLqcrbDfGRtrMAW3_DNb4ez6OcSu8B97ccYKAA24f1bPXhbyomxofvu0TOHGXIb1xJzqk9Y5dZDy-cvulnWv4g-wBdJCldJAIGS-XhpgOnd9upAcTw/s1600/IMG_8596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Sqx3ZpFdTMIMUkqiEp5JO_GcgOLqcrbDfGRtrMAW3_DNb4ez6OcSu8B97ccYKAA24f1bPXhbyomxofvu0TOHGXIb1xJzqk9Y5dZDy-cvulnWv4g-wBdJCldJAIGS-XhpgOnd9upAcTw/s320/IMG_8596.JPG" width="213" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Boom. Christmas in March. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After MO, Matt had to head off to Kansass (that's intentional) for a short assignment, so I went to visit Aura in Oregon. I spent most of my time helping decorate the restaurant Aura and her boyfriend are opening up. It's going to be really awesome. I like to think I had a lot to do with that. Mostly Aura and I worked on this little creation: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSrmMHbMweTPQOoyz06_HQMPrZ6EGRRhBgh_CAha09uDpHBFYt-Bg764a3K5KiFDilZsu1Zd7R0zV8di5zmLlWi-APmXaclnFqaurFX_3kwLYN-Mtb5J63G0Y7UfHnhH-BLbcUPJrRvSs/s1600/Rug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSrmMHbMweTPQOoyz06_HQMPrZ6EGRRhBgh_CAha09uDpHBFYt-Bg764a3K5KiFDilZsu1Zd7R0zV8di5zmLlWi-APmXaclnFqaurFX_3kwLYN-Mtb5J63G0Y7UfHnhH-BLbcUPJrRvSs/s400/Rug.jpg" width="266" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>This is our hand-stenciled rug that we painted onto the floor of the dining room. Impressed? I thought so.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Later, Mom came to Oregon to visit and we drove the coastal road from Ashland, OR to San Francisco. It takes about 10 hours, but we did it in three days. No, no one has ever accused the Streett family of being very timely. We saw some really beautiful views of the coast, and drove along the "Avenue of the Giants" through the Redwood National Park. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUe8ZXsTX3nltKbuiX5kxkGeMWRiHoB7RKzYKRyZ7TDJXe_E-H591Elm6drpeC1-cDi3bO7XirvocysznupogNqprOOjeCrq2pA5TRH_XgrDJy3xbW1yr8vZIkNsl9WjW3f-4qXwHygFA/s1600/California+Coast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUe8ZXsTX3nltKbuiX5kxkGeMWRiHoB7RKzYKRyZ7TDJXe_E-H591Elm6drpeC1-cDi3bO7XirvocysznupogNqprOOjeCrq2pA5TRH_XgrDJy3xbW1yr8vZIkNsl9WjW3f-4qXwHygFA/s400/California+Coast.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>View of the coast in Crescent City, CA. </i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdcw4zoSvG20UnXGlibAtajuJ08lw7SB-9hLotM8DpxJF4t-1Dx7zNK0QDzURIrF-wasv5Dt4CM2t9TjoIDtGBmTrXHPC2jevDrXpXDObRz_G6Ri3uqzZNw8U4949qhCxJYOFFg949_mk/s1600/Redwoods.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdcw4zoSvG20UnXGlibAtajuJ08lw7SB-9hLotM8DpxJF4t-1Dx7zNK0QDzURIrF-wasv5Dt4CM2t9TjoIDtGBmTrXHPC2jevDrXpXDObRz_G6Ri3uqzZNw8U4949qhCxJYOFFg949_mk/s320/Redwoods.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Redwoods.</i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Before you get too jealous, the weather was really kind of terrible for our trip - mostly rainy and cold the entire time. But.... it was still pretty incredible. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5KOyysbrkImyGjbLh-teiX0hO_bzaAAxfVwam2LspyvWUopZg0av4wUpmcjJEriWapwjobZpw0wOsoV7gL-xJ0iLBcrcfZrKHx5KWpB2bsUE5kPiQ0WPkCd7JtiijZtfnd5mC7lrV9yE/s1600/IMG_8858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5KOyysbrkImyGjbLh-teiX0hO_bzaAAxfVwam2LspyvWUopZg0av4wUpmcjJEriWapwjobZpw0wOsoV7gL-xJ0iLBcrcfZrKHx5KWpB2bsUE5kPiQ0WPkCd7JtiijZtfnd5mC7lrV9yE/s320/IMG_8858.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>My specialty, the handheld shot. We took about a hundred of these, and this is one of the best - which should tell you just how bad the other ones are. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i></i>Finally, the rain stopped, and Mother Nature brought us a little something special: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEpd6rxzvWWgUOQJj7vreOhH_-H00xXAyUFinGR3Ev_E8mMaOY412JQQ5dpM0nTGXe51_GJZgSrxvjt6pwN_uQ562RpqrMjWeW_vTTrT3myGc4QsGmJLCOmgA7DaW2a6geTa8aY45ASo/s1600/Double+Rainbow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEpd6rxzvWWgUOQJj7vreOhH_-H00xXAyUFinGR3Ev_E8mMaOY412JQQ5dpM0nTGXe51_GJZgSrxvjt6pwN_uQ562RpqrMjWeW_vTTrT3myGc4QsGmJLCOmgA7DaW2a6geTa8aY45ASo/s400/Double+Rainbow.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>"It's so intense. It's beginning to look like a <b>triple</b> rainbow."</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When we finally reached San Francisco, Mom had to leave, but Matt showed up and brought amazing weather with him! Call me nerdy and uninventive, but the only thing I really wanted to do in San Francisco was tour Alcatraz, so I dragged Aura and Matt along with me. It turned out to be even better than I thought! Definitely the best guided tour I've been on (so far). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6f7k-ntcUE2LxF63DyrJCR9AsjgBl7eYf_g0yYdZxOnnfKE-d62SjqIuEv2pcnvfieC9blhBb4RFa7IFWvylZcWmD0EAwLlRH-9m61pC9kD6WjYkwyCcCY6rT_A5gc1FRTJd65I-7940/s1600/Matt+and+Cait+San+Fran.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6f7k-ntcUE2LxF63DyrJCR9AsjgBl7eYf_g0yYdZxOnnfKE-d62SjqIuEv2pcnvfieC9blhBb4RFa7IFWvylZcWmD0EAwLlRH-9m61pC9kD6WjYkwyCcCY6rT_A5gc1FRTJd65I-7940/s400/Matt+and+Cait+San+Fran.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>A couple of nerds at Alcatraz. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After San Francisco, Aura went home, and Matt and I flew to Arkansas to visit the Streett family. (Don't worry, I'm almost done.) I stayed for almost two weeks driving all over the state to see anyone and everyone I've ever met, which is my custom. Every time I get back from AR, I say "I'm not ever doing that again. Next time, I'm going to make all of them come see me." But I never do. It probably has something to do with me not having a job unlike everyone else. Anyway, as I suspected, the Streett family is getting on just fine without me. In fact, they are flourishing. Will is turning 15(!) in August and wants to get a car, and Bella is the most well-spoken 3-year-old I've ever seen. It is slightly depressing to see how well they manage when I'm not around... but of course I wouldn't have it any other way. (Except maybe they could call me crying once in a while... "Cait! We MISS you! We are falling apart without you!" But that's just an example. I want them to make up their own grievances when they call). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHua6-GFQMWfB4En8nsEX0u6JVaKVwFjQ4FNUT-eC56GcIKlj1fxTkBTMo3XhqphtZejsM1uvTV5HasvvKVL2uyRQemAmXGgOnzsGNLLq9ds2uhoqdroyZ3jjHD5C5bMnqCrE6-Q1Z5pk/s1600/Kids+Arkansas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHua6-GFQMWfB4En8nsEX0u6JVaKVwFjQ4FNUT-eC56GcIKlj1fxTkBTMo3XhqphtZejsM1uvTV5HasvvKVL2uyRQemAmXGgOnzsGNLLq9ds2uhoqdroyZ3jjHD5C5bMnqCrE6-Q1Z5pk/s400/Kids+Arkansas.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>All my little chilluns in a row. From left: Will, his brother Austin, Mason and his sister Bella. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And finally, after more than a month of touring Amurca, I returned home to Chicago, the crappy weather, and my husband. Thus ends my saga, and now I must ask you, Mary: Are you not entertained? </div><br />
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</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-36335518709883154502011-03-14T07:07:00.000-07:002011-03-14T07:07:29.654-07:00If You're Lucky Enough to be Irish<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">You're lucky enough! Saturday we went downtown to see the green river, because I've never seen it, and I heard it was the last year they were dying it! Something about it being bad for the environment or something. It was really cold. Apart from the color of the river, it was a big change from India. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOvV7B4lF8UjYevaXataFZvq9g3zsf6mUZ0pWvBG0I_ITl4cgPrajuRBJXQlhTdcW9RFpPshaVIrAN9Iu7K3Y9IvBT3BBh1JDrR-2nQ3zTRwngxuBZzu1bYHx-HFbQghm2fZaYZUxqVE/s1600/IMG_0026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOvV7B4lF8UjYevaXataFZvq9g3zsf6mUZ0pWvBG0I_ITl4cgPrajuRBJXQlhTdcW9RFpPshaVIrAN9Iu7K3Y9IvBT3BBh1JDrR-2nQ3zTRwngxuBZzu1bYHx-HFbQghm2fZaYZUxqVE/s400/IMG_0026.JPG" width="300" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>It looks way greener on my computer. Stupid blogger. It is like bright, kelly, slime green. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRf5kfmAooefCrVPWWF-gzP9sLzRa6-akXYNPxJERfC3EJYxkcg0fMPEGO3iX561kY1LpUogDqAPDe3urE_xX89QyU9iLgnbbyA_cDPY8_QDR2mH6YdDoTtxXBl_HMi5DUatcyoaEDZI/s1600/IMG_0019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRf5kfmAooefCrVPWWF-gzP9sLzRa6-akXYNPxJERfC3EJYxkcg0fMPEGO3iX561kY1LpUogDqAPDe3urE_xX89QyU9iLgnbbyA_cDPY8_QDR2mH6YdDoTtxXBl_HMi5DUatcyoaEDZI/s320/IMG_0019.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Chris, Danielle, Matt, me. We be ballin'. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After viewing the river, it was too cold to do anything else, so we went to a bar and had a green beer. Wow. What an exciting blog post this was. All these pictures are from Matt's new Christmas camera. It is both chic and portable. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimR7gFwLQR0g40lb06hDpFplSGAzhtMJveutA_EiogP9_M5MWCO9_fdXZ-YlePt2SymQmcWf4A2on2nJcmUji3DBgD0yW_ZitMwkOVgj0VJAB20O6rfmdjOO8nwRWzy7P8v0DjacBxdIE/s1600/IMG_0027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimR7gFwLQR0g40lb06hDpFplSGAzhtMJveutA_EiogP9_M5MWCO9_fdXZ-YlePt2SymQmcWf4A2on2nJcmUji3DBgD0yW_ZitMwkOVgj0VJAB20O6rfmdjOO8nwRWzy7P8v0DjacBxdIE/s400/IMG_0027.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Happy St. Patrick's Day.</i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNBN-wB7_HdZwkuyB745JwfOBdRngdFLu7VS-2hbhriC3R9FrCZjtLjh1D6UdEwrcJmo1GBe_xg6zcuAf3J7JiszgxsNxzXKPaeuWE9EOKQk6KNrGSb6Y9McGumjbU9dCPQntmFwiTdhU/s1600/IMG_0033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNBN-wB7_HdZwkuyB745JwfOBdRngdFLu7VS-2hbhriC3R9FrCZjtLjh1D6UdEwrcJmo1GBe_xg6zcuAf3J7JiszgxsNxzXKPaeuWE9EOKQk6KNrGSb6Y9McGumjbU9dCPQntmFwiTdhU/s320/IMG_0033.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Hema (who claims she owns nothing green), Danielle, me</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8UApP2TeJstjhTu-_MomCXxHwNAGaa17hlg59j9lU4kqhGFUyZxMV8ToCfJ-A85C4hfvhOu5C2mG2m_kPzUmmQNQlcPf1wmy7PsPowiyCHvVZ3aneqmswhed0NNm7CikuGwBz8KQPjA/s1600/IMG_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8UApP2TeJstjhTu-_MomCXxHwNAGaa17hlg59j9lU4kqhGFUyZxMV8ToCfJ-A85C4hfvhOu5C2mG2m_kPzUmmQNQlcPf1wmy7PsPowiyCHvVZ3aneqmswhed0NNm7CikuGwBz8KQPjA/s320/IMG_0025.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Ha. Matt did a much better version of this, but I didn't snap the shot in time, and he almost fell in, so he wouldn't re-do it. Lame. </i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am loving America. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1938405152131528593.post-24453947534565319102011-03-10T05:54:00.000-08:002011-03-10T05:54:36.431-08:00India-ed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Right before we left India, against our better judgement, we went to Agra, just outside of Delhi, to see the Taj Mahal. While it is definitely amazing and ranks very highly on our "coolest things we've seen" list, it was the biggest fiasco to get there! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqkTNIeqN35o5tcoAs92jywsXhYjSW9_PIItTnpsVlmo6nvY5d0AnrMxaxnx5IolyUpY2nntVUVKlcn184DSOHanfd1V7ptFPbhi6xIgLXj0MDwvdzxlz1sZBvwUl-6bvLVjPcacmiG48/s1600/Taj1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqkTNIeqN35o5tcoAs92jywsXhYjSW9_PIItTnpsVlmo6nvY5d0AnrMxaxnx5IolyUpY2nntVUVKlcn184DSOHanfd1V7ptFPbhi6xIgLXj0MDwvdzxlz1sZBvwUl-6bvLVjPcacmiG48/s400/Taj1.jpg" width="266" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Obligatory "first glimpse of the Taj through the archway" shot. </i></div><br />
Because I am an incredible and ultra-organized planner (hmmm), I read up on Delhi before we left so we'd have an idea of what we were up against. And by "read up on" I just read all the warnings about how people try to rip you off in Delhi - especially at train stations and in taxis. (I've started referring to this type of ripping off as "getting India-ed", which isn't really accurate, as I've been gypped just as much and as often in China. India-ed can also refer to the general state of misfortune, stress and helplessness surrounding everything you do in India.)<br />
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Anyway, armed as I was with all of this knowledge, I was certain I could stave off any cheaters by planning ahead and booking our train tickets to Agra online. Our train was set to leave at 6.15 (a.m.!), so we left our hotel just before 5.00 to give us the maximum amount of time to smash through all the hoodwinking. We arrived early, just in time to discover that we left our passports back at the hotel room. Not a huge deal, we thought. We shall just hop into this nice warm taxi and he will run us back to get them. False. Sometimes taxis say no, and there is nothing you can do. We took an auto rickshaw instead. It took 30 minutes longer than a taxi. Soooo, like almost an hour back to the hotel. In the freezing early morning. The hotel front desk said surely the train would be late, so they called a taxi for us and he got us back to the train station at 6.18, just three minutes late! We sprinted through the autos to the platform (Matt ripped his shorts practically in half in the process)... but too bad the train had already left. This is probably the only time a train (or anything) has left on time in India since the beginning of time. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIuNj5K51gtA8rTI-N0FSwMQf1djHxyqupereoRBAwFVO-mYd4o6jIDbzhN5X6-lto633LglOC3oSvs-QX2Wed3g63qOtb8Xk3rr7OENqNaEPBnpVUKFfRX7-hDKsaE2MBdd8NCLe_HE/s1600/Taj5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIuNj5K51gtA8rTI-N0FSwMQf1djHxyqupereoRBAwFVO-mYd4o6jIDbzhN5X6-lto633LglOC3oSvs-QX2Wed3g63qOtb8Xk3rr7OENqNaEPBnpVUKFfRX7-hDKsaE2MBdd8NCLe_HE/s400/Taj5.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Oops. I thought maybe we could tape it and it would be good as new. False. Apparently that makes you look like a homeless person. </i></div><br />
So then we ran up to the travel tourism office to try to switch our tickets. It was closed until 8. Then this "nice" man said he would escort us over to the "emergency travel office" where they could switch our tickets for us no problem. Wow! What a friendly guy. The people at that office "tried" to put us on another train, but they were all "sold out". Except that he only looked at one train time, for one station, for one class. When we asked him to look at something else, he found a tourist quota that cost $57 each. For a one way ticket! Then he "found" us a bus that only cost $40... each person... one way. (Keep in mind that both our original train tickets cost about $40 together, round trip.) So, we told him none of these things were affordable, so the said, well, take a car! Only $100 for the whole day. So we did. It took 4 hours. Only later did I realize this guy must have been completely full of bullshit. Surely we could have spoken to a real official and gotten it straightened out, but how do you know where the real officials are? How do you know if anyone is ever telling you the truth ever? Boom. India-ed. <br />
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But, like I said, the Taj was gorgeous. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQoA9BwcDZtxA6Aep2YX_tGiwPJZyXlcmfSoHtjzbiihajV8VO4wQFGMELznp3SpmD2MNTIyktX4W4z8tb389Vs-zEgnZ8PhWWQlka5uUcnqHRNiBkKEzUYM5pQm7qr_uPr5keQqmmw4/s1600/Taj4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSQoA9BwcDZtxA6Aep2YX_tGiwPJZyXlcmfSoHtjzbiihajV8VO4wQFGMELznp3SpmD2MNTIyktX4W4z8tb389Vs-zEgnZ8PhWWQlka5uUcnqHRNiBkKEzUYM5pQm7qr_uPr5keQqmmw4/s400/Taj4.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Obligatory "reflection in the water" shot. Our guide apparently has been doing this a while and kept telling me all these pictures to take. I guess that means all my pictures will look exactly like everyone else's pictures, but I don't mind. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbqnZ6K5pAwR4wo4zNiymvpy2PZ-LbfCwPX3aapAJgFYByXK3xduNGvv_hBp6P2NDJHqEvKOlH2NETQ82sTOp7xRYn_Bh_kU3nTgG8kEZ9Y4aBCFbOedg49NtHFj6XKLRfm59est8wj0/s1600/Taj+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbqnZ6K5pAwR4wo4zNiymvpy2PZ-LbfCwPX3aapAJgFYByXK3xduNGvv_hBp6P2NDJHqEvKOlH2NETQ82sTOp7xRYn_Bh_kU3nTgG8kEZ9Y4aBCFbOedg49NtHFj6XKLRfm59est8wj0/s320/Taj+2.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Obligatory "holding the Taj" shot. Matt wouldn't do it because he thinks he's too cool for school. He's not. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipmHcQiWqbCFGLQEuvavG8_hYsgtqHWUvfqZuXwUdTkUdenhtyupnfbhUE-lXQl7Nl7oi-FNdpGUznKrXzPY6XeOLx5NZl1MIe7MJYbUkK9xTS722aQAbwAJIrpsKA-O_svCWcVrGYBII/s1600/Taj3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipmHcQiWqbCFGLQEuvavG8_hYsgtqHWUvfqZuXwUdTkUdenhtyupnfbhUE-lXQl7Nl7oi-FNdpGUznKrXzPY6XeOLx5NZl1MIe7MJYbUkK9xTS722aQAbwAJIrpsKA-O_svCWcVrGYBII/s400/Taj3.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>I don't care if this one is obligatory. I like it. It looks like we're jumping so high! We got mad ups. </i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wltuUnqcn475L5-UayoVGPAIIBeITgxfk7s6ry8brgAuwn5Aig6O8DKL6NRPg9ZptAfJzjf-tMAf6nV4dwLyYBaRN7t5I5KfOANWnrNmDTgMQgxBSps_36GKuqXxzlJGJmuqcUKGIyw/s1600/Taj6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wltuUnqcn475L5-UayoVGPAIIBeITgxfk7s6ry8brgAuwn5Aig6O8DKL6NRPg9ZptAfJzjf-tMAf6nV4dwLyYBaRN7t5I5KfOANWnrNmDTgMQgxBSps_36GKuqXxzlJGJmuqcUKGIyw/s320/Taj6.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Inlay work of semi-precious stones into the marble. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw6z_BJu_CgwbwpqWGtglwTkP03gcMrS4TnnaYXTa2Ub-vumJqUaO9hrNsxhaakvjTwXTRN4W1I2xdf_vsZsGfErZhyphenhyphen2fYY3I-63Uxhl8pDiGEzjn9moiCuiwW06li6yHK5jpPsv5rvgw/s1600/Taj7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw6z_BJu_CgwbwpqWGtglwTkP03gcMrS4TnnaYXTa2Ub-vumJqUaO9hrNsxhaakvjTwXTRN4W1I2xdf_vsZsGfErZhyphenhyphen2fYY3I-63Uxhl8pDiGEzjn9moiCuiwW06li6yHK5jpPsv5rvgw/s400/Taj7.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Inlay work and marble carvings. Impressive. </i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have about 200 more pictures of the Taj, so if you'd like to see them, I'd be more than happy to put together a slide show or a powerpoint presentation (complete with music of my choosing) to show you. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After we saw the Taj, we just went back. We are lame, but there's really nothing else around to see, and we were pretty exhausted from our ridiculous fiasco in the morning. The trip back took five hours and our driver got lost, and then he charged us extra for taking us to the hotel, and then he wanted a tip. Boom. India-ed. (I love America, by the way.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
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</div>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681679029249128190noreply@blogger.com3