tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48184198052078862082023-11-16T03:39:00.477-08:00The Jelly LogsJocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.comBlogger139125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-76067580144109232062011-10-03T17:32:00.000-07:002011-10-03T17:32:20.347-07:00If Things Weren’t Quiet Enough Around HereIt dawned on me that it's best to give everything you do in life an honest, wholehearted try; not to do things half-ass. One of my favorite self quotes is when I was explaining to a friend a recent breakup. I told her, "The relationship was dead. I just had to walk away from the carcass." Although my Jelly Logging hasn't flat lined to the point where it's dead, it certainly isn't receiving the tender loving care it needs, and it's time for me to do some thinking and decide what exactly I'm trying to accomplish with my little ol' blog. <br />
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I will certainly continue to write and be a freako (I know no other way), but I won't be publishing here for the next short while. I wanted to say this as a courtesy to those that actually read my crazy ramblings (I love you guys), so you're not wondering why I suck so much and have left you hanging. I'll be back, and hopefully things will be more consistent and substantial when I return.<br />
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XOXO JellyJocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-18497906997240864012011-09-14T15:06:00.000-07:002011-09-14T15:23:29.110-07:00The Motherload of All Wedding PostsSeveral months ago I got married.<br />
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…<br />
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The end. <br />
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If only it was that simple. No, when I was asked that wonderful question "Will you marry me?" and surveyed the potentially treacherous, financially draining, but unique satisfying land known as planning a wedding, I decided I could take matters into my own hands, and make it the most spectacular, affordable affair, the likes of which had never been seen before! Oh how naïve I was, fueled by the daily churn of fabulous wedding photos pouring out from the countless wedding blogs to which I subscribed. But this story has a happy ending, because from my exhaustive do-it-yourself experience, I have gained an assortment of wedding planning knowledge which I will share with you today! Whether you like it or not!<br />
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First order of business (and one that can set you back several thousand dollars): a photographer. This probably isn't what comes to mind as the first thing one would need to decide upon when planning a wedding, but let me just say this:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">WHAM!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNANlgJejktd_yw2sxUzD5GnSVU2slf02cDQC-TiPCQDIoYwmNUqf5ZMlHItziF3jOYXF4oFXKMiwz_LvlOVx6oCfV7uqEvgmjvOFDpjUH93gfS6f4m64gjh3BcWVvUbQwm3ke8ci-vxg/s1600/_MG_6894tosslights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNANlgJejktd_yw2sxUzD5GnSVU2slf02cDQC-TiPCQDIoYwmNUqf5ZMlHItziF3jOYXF4oFXKMiwz_LvlOVx6oCfV7uqEvgmjvOFDpjUH93gfS6f4m64gjh3BcWVvUbQwm3ke8ci-vxg/s320/_MG_6894tosslights.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">BAM! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje77gsryN8i5hKuxm_YFLsjqX9-wXsEtotIXa0liknzeW43PGgcAOrkiJ8kXp23rcrz6qf3AyM9ePlstlcdK0KHbQQN631IRZ4giZyfJ4PKgvV8MNistOvE7MfLtPIl__uwh76M4ThqN8/s1600/IMG_8497wesshootwater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje77gsryN8i5hKuxm_YFLsjqX9-wXsEtotIXa0liknzeW43PGgcAOrkiJ8kXp23rcrz6qf3AyM9ePlstlcdK0KHbQQN631IRZ4giZyfJ4PKgvV8MNistOvE7MfLtPIl__uwh76M4ThqN8/s320/IMG_8497wesshootwater.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">THANK YOU MAM!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbyBJsOBprrCNCOtj3F4t0KGqfVo-jC8-vczBkg8DOtIptVQ2ACmjJLxZDbZXFIBA_H07felSVAaZxHg37XX7BVMJX8Ew4cgPzbC4XGOBfCkeYSB1TPDRbWd1UwDCSqfo7jql-0BRQQ7s/s1600/38070011ranch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbyBJsOBprrCNCOtj3F4t0KGqfVo-jC8-vczBkg8DOtIptVQ2ACmjJLxZDbZXFIBA_H07felSVAaZxHg37XX7BVMJX8Ew4cgPzbC4XGOBfCkeYSB1TPDRbWd1UwDCSqfo7jql-0BRQQ7s/s1600/38070011ranch.jpg" /></a></div><br />
And that thanks specifically goes to Nancy Neil, our wedding photographer. She was, is, and fovever shall be the most awesomist wedding photographer out there. I'll let the photos in this post speak for themselves, but keep in mind I'm only sharing an assortment of the photos she took, and only the ones which have to do with my profound wedding planning insight. <br />
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Next order of business: the location. This was a no brainer for us, because my husband's family has a very special, family property in Northern California which would provide a beautiful setting for an outdoor wedding. That is of course, if you think cattle ranches in May are beautiful.<br />
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There's lots of golden pasture.<br />
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And cattle.<br />
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Although I think we made it work.<br />
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Once we decided we were going to have the wedding at the ranch, I had to confront the reality that I was now planning a "destination" wedding (we are based in Los Angeles), in addition to the fact that the ranch is 30 minutes outside of the nearest town. Moral of the story: work with good vendors that know what they are doing (i.e. spend the money). <br />
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For the rentals (chairs, dance floor, market lights) we used Classic Party Rentals. A local sales representative drove out the ranch, walked the site with us, made suggestions, and took notes on our needs. They are a very large company, so their pricing is competitive and they have everything you could ever need to throw a dinner party (times 160). <br />
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The next vendor, our caterers, were also all stars. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme (PSRT), based out of San Jose, helped us with all the table rentals, table set up, miscellaneous decorating, food (of course), buffet flow and bartending. Heather and her team showed up, set up, made sure everyone was fed, boozed, and aware of our timing (cake cutting, dessert), packed up our leftovers, and broke down all the tables and trucked off with them the same night. I'm doing a poor job describing how wonderful it was to have a caterer that also acted like an event manager, so that I didn't have to stress about it during the evening. Because let's face it. People want to eat and drink without delay when they attend a wedding, and PSRT made sure that happened. Wes and I even got to sit down and eat! We had to pay a premium since the whole staff traveled from San Jose, so it ended up costing around $100 per person, clearly our biggest expense, but I think it was well worth it.<br />
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And the paella was bomb-diggity.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPo5aRL1tjP_Vm1M-g4rFByAQrbsJgUlTq5TuC0xSc9z8uAsvjFnFBAeoaQibMGcApy2IFyFoo1PN3OzxT69df1ynniLENmTSRtUfm-zPaeXk1tea1OO5C_Na1A2K_CGvbdaSnM7oPNGM/s1600/IMG_9557paella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPo5aRL1tjP_Vm1M-g4rFByAQrbsJgUlTq5TuC0xSc9z8uAsvjFnFBAeoaQibMGcApy2IFyFoo1PN3OzxT69df1ynniLENmTSRtUfm-zPaeXk1tea1OO5C_Na1A2K_CGvbdaSnM7oPNGM/s320/IMG_9557paella.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span lang="EN">Since Wes wanted pie as the main dessert, and I only wanted a small cake for ceremonial purposes, we went with a local baker to complete the order. We had a variety of fruit pies (strawberry, peach, apple) and a few chocolate mousse pies. I definitely didn’t hear any complaints.</span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIIHr7qkN8EPhuvsW4EXUgkcm69qVBGehC6Sqbe3ADGRwOyyn8kNghNBDeDjspXEJKLFBzjzMgFr0msRAKwPxmK9WDsB08rLCoHUCqRm53CQyX8HF8K8cOZNFwAT9fTKHoxAnuAWWesyM/s1600/IMG_9867dessert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIIHr7qkN8EPhuvsW4EXUgkcm69qVBGehC6Sqbe3ADGRwOyyn8kNghNBDeDjspXEJKLFBzjzMgFr0msRAKwPxmK9WDsB08rLCoHUCqRm53CQyX8HF8K8cOZNFwAT9fTKHoxAnuAWWesyM/s320/IMG_9867dessert.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
After I had all the basics organized (location, photographer, food, rentals), I spent my time thinking about the DETAILS, and coming up with creative do-it-yourself projects which would add personal touches to the event. <br />
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The biggest detail I cared about was the flowers, and I really wanted to handle all the flower arrangements myself. I made several trips to the LA Flower Mart to take notes on flower varieties and pricing, and picked up several bunches to make sample arrangements. If you live near LA, the LA Flower Mart is amazing and I highly recommend a visit. I spent the time to figure out what exact flowers I would need to make our arrangements look spectacular, without breaking the bank.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vvDajRLO1FDwmUkPBfCVtrkNHEkvBoey9RxSctqYe_jkHnBknmSqb-x1WNg2_1hALezWLWXymSKPnIkVZvHnTYaVPZrqAPTDbkARjJil5RaD4UjAyG5LIsfAzFfRcBtR8flMVW5ucog/s1600/IMG_8321flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vvDajRLO1FDwmUkPBfCVtrkNHEkvBoey9RxSctqYe_jkHnBknmSqb-x1WNg2_1hALezWLWXymSKPnIkVZvHnTYaVPZrqAPTDbkARjJil5RaD4UjAyG5LIsfAzFfRcBtR8flMVW5ucog/s320/IMG_8321flowers.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
If you're looking to do arrangements like ours, here's my advice:<br />
- Pick a focal flower, but use it sparingly. I really loved the elegant look of peonies and the standout presence of dahlias, but these are some of the most expensive flowers at $3-$5 a stem. To keep the costs down we only used 1-2 of these in our table arrangements. We splurged on my bridal bouquet and predominately used peonies and dahlias, but that was because I wanted my bouquet to be extra special (as it should be). I also considered using Pincushions because I loved their color, but they were a little too striking for the elegant, simple look we were going for.<br />
- Use roses (specifically the Vendela ivory colored varietal) to add elegant substance to your arrangements, but at a more affordable price. These are standard roses, available everywhere, and if you get lucky at the flower mart, you might be able to pick up 2 dozen for $8.00.<br />
- Fill out the rest of your arrangements with less expensive filler flowers. Stock is about $3-$4 a bunch (8 stems), Button Poms and most other daisies/poms are about $4-$5 a bunch, Green Mist is about $3 a bunch, and Dusty Miller (the fabulous grey/fuzzy white leaves we used as a base) is about $5 a bunch.<br />
- Finish off your arrangements with a unique flower that is in line with the "spirit" of your wedding. Since our event was outdoors on a ranch, and we wanted to incorporate that natural, rustic element, we chose to add Scabiosa Pods and Bunny Tails to every arrangement (a small bunch is about $5). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQnQRCjXjryAtfSq8JP4SY9su69Hy8TN-403JaPWL44PNQaC1IfVY_gbSsqGhyphenhyphenWWUbCRNfWXXGHPxh0R8evlnbqF_q0aI9bH6yFTnE8d2vblsNtnQypILXUaK9Iie1b6zQAKoxuNYcDU/s1600/IMG_8310flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQnQRCjXjryAtfSq8JP4SY9su69Hy8TN-403JaPWL44PNQaC1IfVY_gbSsqGhyphenhyphenWWUbCRNfWXXGHPxh0R8evlnbqF_q0aI9bH6yFTnE8d2vblsNtnQypILXUaK9Iie1b6zQAKoxuNYcDU/s320/IMG_8310flowers.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Now that you've read everything you NEVER wanted to know about flowers, I have to admit that all my research and planning went down the pooper. There was no possible way to buy flowers at the LA Flower Mart on Thursday, truck them up to Merced, and arrange them myself in time for our Saturday wedding (and trust me, I really wanted to make this happen. I even researched renting a refrigerated truck.) <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP34PLAGAqcNxSGs8WEeJnW11xosGQGi2NSBaKwYObFV7zKEQNkyGPOtRhPosy6UkZhOMhzmkLKztsnPXHdB5Oh2gvwsFsAUUFUPR0d1CXtS3POhrbuXyvYjO4_BZ96JsK3X4NGEJAwas/s1600/IMG_8323masonjars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP34PLAGAqcNxSGs8WEeJnW11xosGQGi2NSBaKwYObFV7zKEQNkyGPOtRhPosy6UkZhOMhzmkLKztsnPXHdB5Oh2gvwsFsAUUFUPR0d1CXtS3POhrbuXyvYjO4_BZ96JsK3X4NGEJAwas/s320/IMG_8323masonjars.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Luckily, I found a fabulous floral designer in Merced and was able to pass along my specifics to her. Natalie at Natalie Galasso Designs did a wonderful job for a fair price, and the flowers turned out better than I could of imagined. Natalie even offered to rent me specific vases from her huge collection for the event, but in the spirit of a psycho bride-to-be, I purchased our own vases from Anthropologie (green, crackled pots for $12 apiece) and Blue Ball Mason Jars from Ebay. And if you want even more specifics, we spent approximately $1600 having 2 bouquets, 18 main table arrangements, and 20+ small miscellaneous arrangements made. <br />
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Is anybody still reading this? Damn, I've got a lot of crap to say about planning our wedding. <br />
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In an effort to save time and space, I'll only give brief descriptions for the following do-it-yourself projects we did to make our wedding special:<br />
- My sister and I constructed wedding programs fans, using the same font with which I designed our wedding invitations (Feel Script).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89ifd3QAaIJAeaWsZp2rW7QWkO1MJ6TUi-XTpA6Se22DA3bAXXXISZ9QKbzsZNt2N8YRICVULHVFPpIwlKJf9bVPpwJOIK_AYWWnOX7udLoQrhMRp3y57V1R0D3CdRxaNAKbnqOSRcAs/s1600/IMG_8691detailsfans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89ifd3QAaIJAeaWsZp2rW7QWkO1MJ6TUi-XTpA6Se22DA3bAXXXISZ9QKbzsZNt2N8YRICVULHVFPpIwlKJf9bVPpwJOIK_AYWWnOX7udLoQrhMRp3y57V1R0D3CdRxaNAKbnqOSRcAs/s320/IMG_8691detailsfans.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
- Our good friend Chris constructed "W" and "J" candle rafts and floating stars from a piece of housing insulation we bought from Lowes. Cylinder candle holders were purchased from Dollar Tree (for only a dollar each!)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsnO5E4d2txHsAeKMDOzVflB1v0Ss1tgeSSCirP1v5GDIU_MeM8rXszYSwd-SRgrtmm_IZ7PnOAPrhgIQhyphenhyphenojUcQaPWtrhlk6URE7Gba1Mb1HTs-5Kz4NmSfGUsftv8K4-7vDzWM3wBJM/s1600/IMG_9846poolcandlesdetails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsnO5E4d2txHsAeKMDOzVflB1v0Ss1tgeSSCirP1v5GDIU_MeM8rXszYSwd-SRgrtmm_IZ7PnOAPrhgIQhyphenhyphenojUcQaPWtrhlk6URE7Gba1Mb1HTs-5Kz4NmSfGUsftv8K4-7vDzWM3wBJM/s320/IMG_9846poolcandlesdetails.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
- Bark framed chalkboards constructed by yours truly. Bark is from save-on-crafts.com, picture frames from Dollar Tree, 11x17 chalkboards purchased from chalkingitup on Etsy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh48mEGQADNsxyXfoBWaN-1yLphmpzChezV6v1vaXBcdm1835aeYLouGUKugUsbJ4B-b-pulYVtw0tQWDpjccLxkHvmfqEOZTT1R3mcX-bz4vneyWSw_rnD8ZIEvWcsNIWX0JootoDoZkQ/s1600/IMG_8812_1detailsshells%2526sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh48mEGQADNsxyXfoBWaN-1yLphmpzChezV6v1vaXBcdm1835aeYLouGUKugUsbJ4B-b-pulYVtw0tQWDpjccLxkHvmfqEOZTT1R3mcX-bz4vneyWSw_rnD8ZIEvWcsNIWX0JootoDoZkQ/s320/IMG_8812_1detailsshells%2526sign.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
- Empty shotgun shells filled with quick dry cement and used as placecards.<br />
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- Burlap purchased from onlinefabricstore.net and cut into table runners.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAihLWSb-5_tjYq0kEHHIwbmH8_1CqRZGBM1Bad8e0i7ydXWTn341eBt_TpUUScEOkX7a0ATohDzKHWOcE4wZojGgtS8GZeTV601RugIeP6o4PXagvhwmO_J6s8Sj1LAkGp9tSSS7ADGM/s1600/_MG_6476detailstable.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAihLWSb-5_tjYq0kEHHIwbmH8_1CqRZGBM1Bad8e0i7ydXWTn341eBt_TpUUScEOkX7a0ATohDzKHWOcE4wZojGgtS8GZeTV601RugIeP6o4PXagvhwmO_J6s8Sj1LAkGp9tSSS7ADGM/s320/_MG_6476detailstable.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
- Custom designed "I went to Jocelyn and Wes's wedding and all I got was this loozy koozie!" guest gift koozies ordered from LogoDogz.com.<br />
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- And lastly, the paper lantern chandelier.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wA454-DORykxXKUxSLzvY5UjtYQToqTpluM72mc7HyCfI0KnJNBEcb3ejaeO9LJXZEHyEN-rZZSTNifN7gr_x4TJanIdwmwNaQk_WDf-tnUFyPScpltbAoyhzFWSUsgKoRgnJ4YUHXc/s1600/_MG_6814-copywesjocelights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wA454-DORykxXKUxSLzvY5UjtYQToqTpluM72mc7HyCfI0KnJNBEcb3ejaeO9LJXZEHyEN-rZZSTNifN7gr_x4TJanIdwmwNaQk_WDf-tnUFyPScpltbAoyhzFWSUsgKoRgnJ4YUHXc/s320/_MG_6814-copywesjocelights.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Backstory: I had originally wanted to construct tumbleweed chandeliers for the event, because they would've been SO AWESOME, and my dutiful, loving husband even picked up some tumbleweeds on his way back from his bachelor party in Lake Mead. Unfortunately, my dutiful, loving husband did not believe said tumbleweeds should be stored in his sacred garage up until the wedding. They were weeds and should be kept outside. NOT in his sacred garage. Well wouldn't you know it, but our gardeners also thought said tumbleweeds were in fact weeds, and proceeded to destroy and trash them when they found them lying in the side yard. This is why you did NOT see any awesome tumbleweed chandeliers at our wedding. I am still recovering. <br />
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Instead, I came up with a new plan: let's construct a paper lantern chandelier! I bought the paper lanterns from Luna Bazaar and Wes handled the rest. There were lots of light sockets, and electrical tape, and rope, and possible electrocution, but I think it turned out marvelously.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaE8rvHAK5diR4KLtNP0BVmQRqMkOg5weXie4LaRm47QE8q6I9QxyCG9VIRl_UDTrtuHmwvjcdoILoIkwxGrCNO0YtJ7esorQfVnGYlcXP9Be5NLc2t4CifAmgvC4iZmVHwXzVq_QbnxE/s1600/_MG_6870wesnancylights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaE8rvHAK5diR4KLtNP0BVmQRqMkOg5weXie4LaRm47QE8q6I9QxyCG9VIRl_UDTrtuHmwvjcdoILoIkwxGrCNO0YtJ7esorQfVnGYlcXP9Be5NLc2t4CifAmgvC4iZmVHwXzVq_QbnxE/s320/_MG_6870wesnancylights.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
To wrap this "Motherload of All Wedding Posts" up, I'll end by noting a few things I would change next time (aka never, because I'm never planning a wedding again; aka Wes you're stuck with me forever and ever, Amen.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3U2CO_hCChCPRgrAPy5lGeZUNRuDAoEt94z-Kb0L8PiA6Q6WZpSBMYxEAjsQqJv69xOv1Vap5KiPjO705MyKf0WLxFpNuCX_6_RkjI6vyZ2a-qUXxrbvMeWQPH07kYTWj6JuQ2c-bOdg/s1600/_MG_6209-copyhair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3U2CO_hCChCPRgrAPy5lGeZUNRuDAoEt94z-Kb0L8PiA6Q6WZpSBMYxEAjsQqJv69xOv1Vap5KiPjO705MyKf0WLxFpNuCX_6_RkjI6vyZ2a-qUXxrbvMeWQPH07kYTWj6JuQ2c-bOdg/s320/_MG_6209-copyhair.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
- Hair and makeup: I did my own with the help of my best friend, and I think it turned out great. But I would make a point to schedule actual appointments next time, as a way to force myself to relax the morning of. <br />
- Table numbers/names: Wes wanted to include aviation in the table numbers/names (since flying is his "thing"), so we decided to gather up all the model airplanes we could find at home and at the ranch, and use the models as the table names (e.g. Citation II, Cessna 150, etc.) This worked fine, but the models themselves were inconsistent (different sizes), so it was a little confusing. I'm sure no one cared, but next time I'd try to be a little more organized about it. <br />
- Seating assignments: DO NOT WAIT TO DECIDE THIS THE DAY OF YOUR WEDDING. I don't know how I ended up writing 160+ names and table assignments the day of our wedding, but I did and I'm sorry for it. <br />
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And there we have it. Everything I have to say about my experience of planning a wedding. Hopefully you're not banging your head against your desk in boredom!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuOyt97y7zd2QDIMKxo6-b9RCKTx8vHnPT5RnIZ81ipDsKSFKTfmUNs1gLYiPalwXbHuiX6n7CrT668SUkOP5AGUCjoxEw1om5Ckv0zkfREYC-Qcf_4vodpIBxME9zfKJhqoXzOQNlLuY/s1600/IMG_0462ranchnight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuOyt97y7zd2QDIMKxo6-b9RCKTx8vHnPT5RnIZ81ipDsKSFKTfmUNs1gLYiPalwXbHuiX6n7CrT668SUkOP5AGUCjoxEw1om5Ckv0zkfREYC-Qcf_4vodpIBxME9zfKJhqoXzOQNlLuY/s320/IMG_0462ranchnight.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">The End.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-82829210267596302842011-09-12T17:12:00.000-07:002011-09-12T17:14:35.665-07:00Flashback to All Things WeddingI have a monstrous wedding post in the works, chock-full of details about our vendors, my insane do-it-yourself projects, and my advice for anyone whose future entails planning a wedding. But for now, I want to share my FAVORITE photo from the day:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPSlTOIvo6LGRa_0ByocmuTA9Sgq4ALuqUzD49sWmmWMTD4ltTG5j_m1OBkOsLMVQy4jC9_i-nzQ7xq6mPy7IXSwedrxcBFzZ23oVf91xkbfm4ptGXcVrZPKyI19uWhrE5H1JTnkO2sqw/s1600/IMG_9124postceremonyfamfav.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPSlTOIvo6LGRa_0ByocmuTA9Sgq4ALuqUzD49sWmmWMTD4ltTG5j_m1OBkOsLMVQy4jC9_i-nzQ7xq6mPy7IXSwedrxcBFzZ23oVf91xkbfm4ptGXcVrZPKyI19uWhrE5H1JTnkO2sqw/s320/IMG_9124postceremonyfamfav.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
I don't know why I love it so much. Maybe it's the love, hope and joy in our eyes after just saying our "I do's." Or maybe it's because Cocoa is looking at me so lovingly, not in his usual "Oh, you again. I was kinda hoping you wouldn't stick around FOREVER. Three's a crowd woman. Wes and I were cool when it was just the two of us."<br />
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Yes, Cocoa. I'm sticking around FOREVER. You can call me Mom.Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-14791429494819583492011-09-03T17:06:00.000-07:002011-09-03T17:06:46.868-07:00Being Honest with YourselfIt's the weekend and I've had a revelation. It's called "Being Honest with Yourself." <br />
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Revolutionary, no?<br />
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I had this thought while I was sorting through old books, high school papers, award certificates, college acceptance letters, yearbooks, and unfortunately, my adolescent collection of Beanie Baby bears - you know, things that have no real value except the vague, often fabricated memories we assign them - and I picked up my copy of Tina Fey's <i>Bossypants</i> and read a selection. And I thought "Wow, Tina's writing is exceptional because she can take a situation and write so honestly about it", and it's that clear self assessment and acceptance that allows her to be hilarious. She admits that she has "triannual sobs" at work due to emotional fatigue, but asks if that's really so bad? Especially when she compares it to the time some gay m en spend finding a "doggie hotel" for that a two week vacation to Milan they've planned with their partner.<br />
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So I'm going to take this time to honestly admit some *mostly harmless*truths to myself. Please indulge me. <br />
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Jocelyn, you are not going to be "the best writer the world has ever seen" because get this: ALL YOU'VE WRITTEN SO FAR IS A SILLY LITTLE BLOG. And why do you even worry about it? There's no "best" because we're all so different. And all that fear of doing or saying something that might be taken the wrong way. You're even afraid to write the f word (see! I couldn't do it!). But guess what? Here's something you've actually said, out loud, to other people, who have remembered and reminded you about it, possibly making you the most obnoxious person on the planet:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">"There'll be no dick in my butt unless there's blow in my cunt."</div><br />
Dear God woman?!? What is wrong with you?! And why do you think that's funny?!?<br />
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Moving on.<br />
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Also, being honest with yourself: Why are you so insecure? Those skinny "banana legs" you had in elementary school, that fleshy, fan-like nose, and nonexistent butt, they've all transformed into an acceptable, moderately attractive (read: non-deformed) female person. It's about time your mental self got into shape as well. You are on this earth, extraordinarily blessed with family, friends and opportunities. You're only alone when you're floating around in that crazy mind of yours. Share yourself, whatever shade it might be (hopefully you can come up with witty things to say that don't evolve genitalia); see the acceptance and embrace the rejection. LIVE WOMAN, LIVE. <br />
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Don't you like how I've turned into my own psychologist? It's a bad habit I have. To prove it, I will leave you with some crazy shit I wrote in May of 2009:<br />
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"Recently I've been on a stimulation kick (no drugs involved thankfully; what type of girl do you think I am??). I feel a flooding desire to exercise or bake something or chew ice. Those aren't bad desires in themselves, but I feel like I have to do them right now and feverously. Then when I'm not on a stimulation kick, I feel like my brain is floating in my skull, a lifeless and worthless mass. Is this odd? I don't think I've experienced this odd type of self-assessment before. I feel discontent."<br />
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Eternally yours,<br />
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JellyJocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-79490666646362971822011-08-31T17:07:00.000-07:002011-09-04T10:30:33.645-07:00Summer of ShackI wrote you a poem:<br />
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I just wanna be me, but I’m a little scared you see. <br />
What if someone’s looking when I take a wee wee?<br />
Will they call me names, or say I look so lame?<br />
When did being me, become such a strain?<br />
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Clearly, it has absolutely nothing to do with the Sugar Shack, but I jotted it down this morning so I thought I’d share. <br />
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And in the land of all things Sugar and Shack, things have been a bustling! Summer’s been good to the Shack. Reeaaal good. <br />
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Here we have the family room, complete with computer desk cabinetry. You know, for all that important computering we do.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh300GJIU4fvZY31wyhk760etxY7yg0tx0meTnlbojtD8nMEQe3wK08uIoV4KWxeo4_HpU89TVjJLOqoEaLknybUM-kD2nszoRFHTEUWN1e53nRRGwls1Pfo6MNIqaJ4gotcJHOu0GD97A/s1600/SSAug22-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh300GJIU4fvZY31wyhk760etxY7yg0tx0meTnlbojtD8nMEQe3wK08uIoV4KWxeo4_HpU89TVjJLOqoEaLknybUM-kD2nszoRFHTEUWN1e53nRRGwls1Pfo6MNIqaJ4gotcJHOu0GD97A/s400/SSAug22-001.jpg" width="400" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
Here’s the living room, complete with bar cabinetry. You know, for all that important boozing we do. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1O1l9rDN___fLpqT9I9FfMpOwdMmowmi_rOKgjxUmzjQTTHSFhr2Mfzkw-vIfQZ4AI1GgDScHdJMksKnlxDyT94ki98IGmYo1GvTQ_rKbZUE6Yu0Inj8MeTvPxauOeudlzptiQmzYhuE/s1600/SSAug22-002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1O1l9rDN___fLpqT9I9FfMpOwdMmowmi_rOKgjxUmzjQTTHSFhr2Mfzkw-vIfQZ4AI1GgDScHdJMksKnlxDyT94ki98IGmYo1GvTQ_rKbZUE6Yu0Inj8MeTvPxauOeudlzptiQmzYhuE/s400/SSAug22-002.jpg" width="400" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
Speaking of boozing, my husband, my mother and myself drank approximately $220 worth of red wine last night (3 bottles: Andrew Murray Terra Bella Vineyard Syrah 2007, Chateau Montelena Estate Cabernet Sauvignon 2006, and L'Aventure Côte à Côte 2009). I didn’t even think that was possible, but I’m glad I lived to tell about it. Now excuse me for a moment while I do penance for my gluttony.<br />
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I’m back!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXB1KofmjKAXXSKn1-uustG__Mzor_WrqyZG5AozZ-mVhXI1C2Bh-J0O37Gh6lPjfqxL5t60go9IC43VhHbrNFdpQ6n5ClCBezH-kbuLQwR1J8tZeUgWHLvbx2C4uKnV-HmzDuwSzXVc/s1600/SSAug22-003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXB1KofmjKAXXSKn1-uustG__Mzor_WrqyZG5AozZ-mVhXI1C2Bh-J0O37Gh6lPjfqxL5t60go9IC43VhHbrNFdpQ6n5ClCBezH-kbuLQwR1J8tZeUgWHLvbx2C4uKnV-HmzDuwSzXVc/s400/SSAug22-003.jpg" width="266" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
Whoops! How did that photo get in here? I wasn’t supposed to reveal how we dispose of all our dead bodies and use their blood for laundry room floor waterproofing! But don’t worry, once we get the nice tile in you won’t be able to see the red anymore. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv78mhAqrpl82kZRqMnB5tnCytOlyDy0WbvouODdjZ8Tp8gVPZaGulA0_r1RkwLKAxK8yJGItLmrGDHhtLoX3J7YLCcmem4fHjg0lRaOJDKJGcMx2GoNCeFLerg8ELr1LX-a4ALppRsM4/s1600/SSAug22-004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv78mhAqrpl82kZRqMnB5tnCytOlyDy0WbvouODdjZ8Tp8gVPZaGulA0_r1RkwLKAxK8yJGItLmrGDHhtLoX3J7YLCcmem4fHjg0lRaOJDKJGcMx2GoNCeFLerg8ELr1LX-a4ALppRsM4/s400/SSAug22-004.jpg" width="400" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
Here’s the garage where my husband plans on electrocuting himself because he covered the top of the work bench with sheet metal. Men, I tell you. He thinks it’s more “industrial” or something like that.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVEAa7Kj2Xivl-vXylLA8fo-gwOTE7QW0P8om3iIxWk9V55yvm0s7G4hVlYirXEF7615bdYuYcqw38HnTFmedZ-xEpGioYtEn64dniQCbERJGihQ_XjrqqyNS1OVSYQVZ_5agJOY_tZw/s1600/SSAug22-005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVEAa7Kj2Xivl-vXylLA8fo-gwOTE7QW0P8om3iIxWk9V55yvm0s7G4hVlYirXEF7615bdYuYcqw38HnTFmedZ-xEpGioYtEn64dniQCbERJGihQ_XjrqqyNS1OVSYQVZ_5agJOY_tZw/s400/SSAug22-005.jpg" width="400" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnNWVS7EMw83A_jmylutyvwQk-qgeu2coCa0KgE7EvlnpYISyJGYLNKkLjd8R5y3xbH2NZya1pXJTkWdZJNwQxuzYy0qIeu55vMbxqhFJTuroLph-PX1TMmTqaofd7BpZBNQVGIcmqQUo/s1600/SSAug22-006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnNWVS7EMw83A_jmylutyvwQk-qgeu2coCa0KgE7EvlnpYISyJGYLNKkLjd8R5y3xbH2NZya1pXJTkWdZJNwQxuzYy0qIeu55vMbxqhFJTuroLph-PX1TMmTqaofd7BpZBNQVGIcmqQUo/s320/SSAug22-006.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
And now we’re back in the important part of the house. The kitchen! If there’s anything I love more than boozing, it’s eating. Speaking of eating, last night I asked my daring husband if he had to choose between having sex or being able to eat wine and cheese for the rest his life (we were only on the first bottle of wine too), which one would he choose. Without hesitation he said sex (men, I tell you). When he asked me the same question, I said I’d really have to think about it. THAT’S how much I love my eating and drinking. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1LWvTMlI22gu-NA7OGF4mnKhjIAayjl857W7oI-21K8We8nQ3BBsV1CVgSHqeIG5zQqZNw0ubzgnlg0jpDGQgIhQRYILAv_LSPs4XBVuDM8F9v2shdlXKvTfgx21Lcg7X2MBiVuX94Vo/s1600/SSAug22-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1LWvTMlI22gu-NA7OGF4mnKhjIAayjl857W7oI-21K8We8nQ3BBsV1CVgSHqeIG5zQqZNw0ubzgnlg0jpDGQgIhQRYILAv_LSPs4XBVuDM8F9v2shdlXKvTfgx21Lcg7X2MBiVuX94Vo/s400/SSAug22-007.jpg" width="400" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
And to round up this riveting tour, we have the master bathroom, complete with vanity cabinetry. You know, because we’re so vain. <br />
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Come back next time to see if the pool’s graduated from being just another giant hole in the ground!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnWUcuDUtbdlhD3Mr28tVtrXs3fuKGf03jcok3dDGcUzxLhY5o2x9sRWJb7-fMn878PlkgmbfJmr1sZUqNFvCnCW2Pa4cLcgXXduzYB-lGrZJZlBJ_k22wny2M7kdj5zAT6memeAkR-kI/s1600/SSAug22-008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnWUcuDUtbdlhD3Mr28tVtrXs3fuKGf03jcok3dDGcUzxLhY5o2x9sRWJb7-fMn878PlkgmbfJmr1sZUqNFvCnCW2Pa4cLcgXXduzYB-lGrZJZlBJ_k22wny2M7kdj5zAT6memeAkR-kI/s400/SSAug22-008.jpg" width="400" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
XOXO JellyJocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-26051999881746976102011-08-24T16:35:00.000-07:002011-08-31T11:04:51.150-07:00Running: A Series - Part 1<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This is me before I went running yesterday:</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgXoTa1Zf7cZ3OS84AD8Roc9kIb8S1C-nTjwZZh4CItFewZNT1IgzwLqswrN2_WkwUCLSZfA9g0ce-4rny_iIW7jOqSFC-xoVpeByI5Imf1iZLBDp3UbmamlZDO_hT0xsWCE8SZU7cbvw/s1600/Running-Series1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgXoTa1Zf7cZ3OS84AD8Roc9kIb8S1C-nTjwZZh4CItFewZNT1IgzwLqswrN2_WkwUCLSZfA9g0ce-4rny_iIW7jOqSFC-xoVpeByI5Imf1iZLBDp3UbmamlZDO_hT0xsWCE8SZU7cbvw/s320/Running-Series1.jpg" width="192" /></a></div><br />
Things you can tell by this picture:<br />
1) I am generally optimistic before starting my run. <br />
2) I am very, very in shape.<br />
3) I also have a perfect hourglass figure.<br />
4) Whatever body issues you have can be completely erased in Adobe Illustrator! <br />
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Things you can’t tell by this picture:<br />
1) It was 100 degrees when I commenced my run yesterday.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">2) My guts were still recovering from the 2 bottles of wine and 2 lbs. of cheese I ate around 11pm the night prior.</div>3) I have been battling an insidious case of <s>ringworm</s> (according to my dermatologist, it's actually eczema, not ringworm! Hooray!) on by chest and back for the last month, and I think my sport bras are playing a key role in my unsuccessful recovery. They provide such a warm, tight, sweaty place for plenty of bacteria to grow! (Note to self: Burn all current sports bras.)<br />
4) There is a black hole where my abs are supposed to reside. Well… it’s not an actual black hole, but the lack of any stability and support coming from that region put it on par with one. I really think running would be easier if I had strong abs, but that’s not enough to actually make me do crunches. <br />
5) I have a nice, golden, summertime tan, which is both an exciting and scary scenario for a white girl like me (ya! I look good! vs. ahhh! I might die of skin cancer!).<br />
<br />
So now you know how things in the land of Jelly have been going lately. Later I'll share the conversation my body had with itself DURING the run (it wasn't pretty). And maybe I'll even show you my mental and physical state AFTER the run (it wasn't pretty).<br />
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Good news is, the run made me skip the emotional eating and drinking I had planned for myself that night (my dear, sweet, Lovies is out of town). Sometimes I can be a glutton for punishment, but last night, I couldn't take it to that level.Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-22199656846163147872011-08-17T15:02:00.000-07:002011-08-17T15:02:18.965-07:00Baby FaceI’ve resorted to pimping out my sister and my nephew as content for this blog. But how could I possibly resist? He's got such a cute, squishy, baby face.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9W0gauH_gc0BsGMm9oTilMyDn5tlmI7aDz5Si-VwZUKRGyjKkB5njH4TBhWzfEMV8TJj-eyRNs0ZWZu3zoPkfRmL0BBHDviCMlZRNFbrynTQcyR19u-LAbSiVgI_g-BhjhJPsKCj6VA/s1600/_RR10647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9W0gauH_gc0BsGMm9oTilMyDn5tlmI7aDz5Si-VwZUKRGyjKkB5njH4TBhWzfEMV8TJj-eyRNs0ZWZu3zoPkfRmL0BBHDviCMlZRNFbrynTQcyR19u-LAbSiVgI_g-BhjhJPsKCj6VA/s400/_RR10647.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"I don't mind the Indiana humidity at all! I'll just work on my suntan."</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/AVvXsEiD81JARg4wDEUhzWU5wcFJt8X1dXyj3s5qfbisBNSdwv_tH8o0-NGMH2GmcUyToIXGIaFpzXOuUNMj1PZtHDCS4U_rgS8xaKn2ZtBuW7ALs2RTgrJnLIFY9CwWB06un8Dan5_duegitrM/s1600/_RR10656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD81JARg4wDEUhzWU5wcFJt8X1dXyj3s5qfbisBNSdwv_tH8o0-NGMH2GmcUyToIXGIaFpzXOuUNMj1PZtHDCS4U_rgS8xaKn2ZtBuW7ALs2RTgrJnLIFY9CwWB06un8Dan5_duegitrM/s400/_RR10656.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
"Oooo, and look! We're matching Mom!"<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhbUX7JSwqhTMkPUMbqwGqVC-KEWRJrRlyVHviO5xZPLY9UWZPh4sfwbgnivZJbKgEVSf-8Aom90sKkPbZ2yd90JzpC3-HBilOEQN_oJlOfdBXe_hpDbcfM8nG24xYi7Bqv4ALLPnfH5E/s1600/_RR10644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhbUX7JSwqhTMkPUMbqwGqVC-KEWRJrRlyVHviO5xZPLY9UWZPh4sfwbgnivZJbKgEVSf-8Aom90sKkPbZ2yd90JzpC3-HBilOEQN_oJlOfdBXe_hpDbcfM8nG24xYi7Bqv4ALLPnfH5E/s400/_RR10644.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Hooray!"</div>Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-5815018681655565762011-08-03T17:03:00.000-07:002011-08-17T15:05:31.980-07:00Happy New Identity Day!<div style="text-align: center;">Feel both the crisp air of new opportunity and the gentle mist of nostalgia envelop your body...</div><br />
You are at a turning point in your life AND THERE'S NO GOING BACK. Isn't this exciting?!<br />
<br />
It's official. Both federal and state agencies are heralding in the new me! It's time to shed my maiden identity and embrace my new one. And since this is such a momentous (if not incredibly confusing) occasion, it's time to celebrate! <br />
<br />
In honor of New Identity Day, I will share a little story about how I became this "new" person… <br />
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It's an early evening in November. The setting sun reminds me how much I dislike daylight savings time. Tonight I am going on my first blind date; well, semi-blind date (at least Facebook's good for something). Although the guy I saw on Facebook seems like a handful; tall, blonde, oozing masculinity. Certainly not like anyone I've ever dated before. I try to stay away from guys whose egos are bigger than their IQs, and if I've learned anything from my brief stint on the frat party circuit in college, blonde dudes are the worst. But what the hell. My aunt thinks he's a fine gentleman, and really, what do I have to lose? I most certainly will be wearing flats though. No matter how tall I guy says he is, they always get shorter standing next to my 5'10" frame. <br />
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We're scheduled to have dinner at one of my favorite restaurants in Studio City, a tapas bar called Olé. I figure it's a good choice for a first date; they have drinks, small plates to share, plus it's dark in there. I try to put the hustle on my primping so I won't be late - first impressions are important after all - but it doesn't look like I'm going to make it. I'll be "fashionably" late as always. <br />
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Luckily, I find parking on the street in front of the restaurant, so my tardiness is minimal. As I walk to the entrance, last minute nervousness floods my thoughts: "Oh boy, here we go! If something awful happens or he turns out to be a complete weirdo at least I'll have a good story to tell! Let's try and enjoy this. Dates are supposed to be fun, aren't they?"<br />
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I open the door and spot my unmistakable date before the hostess can even greet me. "I'm meeting him" or something like that comes out of my mouth. He rises to reveal that yes, he is indeed tall, but no, he does not do laundry. Paint splatter decorates his jeans and boots, and I get the feeling he didn't pay some high-end designer to put it there. His shirt is pressed and he looks clean shaven, and I might have even let the thought "Ya, he's cute" cross my mind. <br />
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We exchange "Hello's", sit down at the bar and start talking about how he knows my aunt, what we do for work, where we're from, and what schools we went to; normal, boring first date stuff. When I hear he rides dirt bikes, I make sure to share my own experience of riding on weekend trips with my Dad and sister. Sure that was over 10 years ago, but I can still talk the talk. At least I think I can.<br />
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We don't order much for dinner, just some appetizers and drinks, and despite his outspoken conservatism, he seems tolerant of the predominantly liberal, election night crowd. What better way to get to know your date's political views than on election night? Not that political affiliation has any effect on my potential-boyfriend screening process.<br />
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Throughout the evening his whole demeanor exudes confidence, but I make sure to put on an unimpressed face. If there's anything the 23 year old Jocelyn prides herself on, it's not being a bubbly-headed, gullible, bimbo. This guy's going to have be more than just confident to impress me. But in a way he does. The casualness of the conversation combined with his in-your-face personality is intriguing. He is certainly not like anyone I have ever met before. <br />
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Soon it's nearing 10 o'clock, and he has to get up early for work in the morning. He walks me to my car, which is actually a truck, and he seems impressed by this fact. Although he makes a comment about the bed not being rhino lined, indicating that I don't transport anything heavy. I tell him it's a truck and the bed can handle whatever I put in it as is. <br />
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Since this is the end of the date, I start to wonder if there is going to be a kiss. I certainly don't think I gave off a warm, inviting impression so I doubt he will go for it, but before I can conjecture any longer he goes in for the hug. "It was really nice meeting you. We'll have to do this again soon." he says. "Ya. Sure." I reply as I get into the car. "We'll see about that" is what I'm thinking. <br />
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I can't put a finger on whether I liked him or not… "The whole night was so… interesting." I think. The more I try to figure out how I feel the more confused I get, so I try not to think about. "We'll just see if he actually calls me and that will decide it." I tell myself. <br />
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And guess what? <br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">He did.</div>Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-28051119669123785472011-08-02T15:09:00.000-07:002011-08-02T15:09:33.765-07:00Just a Quick Note<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizicXETv4MTPrcFrfeIK5tpjRSepx34vr0lwiKzbe0w5pfkzBJqL1AuNWcG2Ndv9L6b0HAmLz-dKXcz_BVESL5CmavRl0A8RAFb9pPNjnzue-Vld117IyhhB8gsYiQjNHBNCOlumLm2Lk/s1600/Goals2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizicXETv4MTPrcFrfeIK5tpjRSepx34vr0lwiKzbe0w5pfkzBJqL1AuNWcG2Ndv9L6b0HAmLz-dKXcz_BVESL5CmavRl0A8RAFb9pPNjnzue-Vld117IyhhB8gsYiQjNHBNCOlumLm2Lk/s1600/Goals2.jpg" t$="true" /></a></div>XOXO JellyJocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-9011788329011395692011-07-21T15:48:00.000-07:002011-07-21T15:49:10.018-07:00LimboDo you ever type a word and then Google it to make sure you're using it properly? I just did that with the title of this post: Limbo. Not because I don't know what it means (I do), but I'm curious what Google thinks it means. <br />
<br />
First result was in reference to the game Limbo. The one where you try to walk with your back bent under a stick, with the stick getting progressively lower. I was never very good at this game. Probably has something to do with the fact that I’m 5’10” and my legs connect to my chin. When you walk on the tall side of life, playing games where the objective is “how low can you go” don’t end so well.<br />
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The second result was from Wikipedia and defines limbo as the following: <br />
"In the theology of the Catholic Church, Limbo (Latin limbus, edge or boundary, referring to the 'edge' of Hell) is a speculative idea about the afterlife condition of those who die in original sin without being assigned to the Hell of the damned."<br />
I don’t why, but this sounds kind of awesome to me. You’ve got to hand it to them. The Catholic Church is both creative and dramatic.<br />
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So technically I’m not in limbo. I’m neither playing a back bending game or floating in the afterlife (unless the afterlife includes wicked cramps like I have right now). But I do feel like I’m in an uncomfortable, uncertain place at the moment, both mentally and emotionally. Like I’m in the middle of a really boring movie and I’m thinking of all the other things I could be doing which would be much more productive, but I can’t leave or turn it off because I’m tied to the seat (if you want to have an experience like this rent <em>Hereafter</em>. It sucks.) And although I’m trying exceptionally hard to coax some creativity out of my soul, nothing seems to come out in a coherent fashion. Just like this post. <br />
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So while I languish in this creative drought, please say a prayer for me, so that I may use my dramatics to write something interesting for a change. Like a story about a camel with branches coming out of his ears whose name is Humdufalus. He sounds like an interesting character don't you think?Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-74155970084957565522011-07-13T14:52:00.000-07:002011-07-14T08:11:08.345-07:00Behind the Scenes at the Ranch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9OCvN8gw2bX_GYNTUmmSj5aQlR-10XiGAcFq-r8nKM3zuJ24JgU7T6pMAfgAHsFf4mNioOfjQdhJeX8vQ5tPYTO4gqz_9QYwklucrMkqC6uLh1-TcMGtXj2rcLkLZ20GE4zaVTcmNCGQ/s1600/RanchJune11-023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9OCvN8gw2bX_GYNTUmmSj5aQlR-10XiGAcFq-r8nKM3zuJ24JgU7T6pMAfgAHsFf4mNioOfjQdhJeX8vQ5tPYTO4gqz_9QYwklucrMkqC6uLh1-TcMGtXj2rcLkLZ20GE4zaVTcmNCGQ/s400/RanchJune11-023.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
The Ranch, my husband’s family’s homestead in Northern California and the fabulous place where we were married, is an incredible place. I could spend all day staring off into the golden fields (if it’s summer) or lush pastures (if it’s winter), being completely absorbed by its serene vastness. And although I would generally opt to do nothing while we are up at the ranch except relax (with a cocktail of course), this is often never the case. Usually there are things to do, such as the following:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghdEmDGdfGNzoZbZQ_GUGJcpjt_5xlrI-urOkQQnCo5AiY0lWByI45lH91HYyZaTCesqkTAkSLPdvR0_mS2XfkNuvw49N2n-suZUGZtMdPIPl_OoMsW21E9_sVeDDcNAEWRJns8_cQG3c/s1600/RanchJune11-004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghdEmDGdfGNzoZbZQ_GUGJcpjt_5xlrI-urOkQQnCo5AiY0lWByI45lH91HYyZaTCesqkTAkSLPdvR0_mS2XfkNuvw49N2n-suZUGZtMdPIPl_OoMsW21E9_sVeDDcNAEWRJns8_cQG3c/s400/RanchJune11-004.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Trailer improvement. This time we planted a tree! Rolling Thunder wouldn’t be a proper home if it didn’t have landscaping. At the very least, it takes away from the fact that there are still tires sitting under the house from when we first moved it. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcyXVZSa_0ZBLWbjWBj8JnU13uiIJ_OMHF1lrG7V1OIMpT6Ff9RkxTKHCovH61FMJnXfQ9fBB6b9gC37KSlUsfxeLrUf91cYMacGV1vVSkes55TOxjPQD5QgWpAL4s1qB_niFfkYGYOwo/s1600/RanchJune11-002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcyXVZSa_0ZBLWbjWBj8JnU13uiIJ_OMHF1lrG7V1OIMpT6Ff9RkxTKHCovH61FMJnXfQ9fBB6b9gC37KSlUsfxeLrUf91cYMacGV1vVSkes55TOxjPQD5QgWpAL4s1qB_niFfkYGYOwo/s400/RanchJune11-002.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
Listen to country music. NON-STOP. Wes bought this portable, rugged boom box so we could have music no matter where we are on the ranch, which means we listen to music NO MATTER WHERE WE ARE ON THE RANCH. This is nice most of the time, but by the time the weekend’s over and we’re heading back to LA, I’m reeling from a country music overdose and have visions of killing anyone who has the name Garth, Toby, or Taylor, and says “yeehaw”.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpTPfgNLpi5jDp5uC2iehcK1g7VoBLu1-9YVLntATtd6PNeANMiX2DJ9XRBz-dB_8rFkXV773axqoFxE_T9fKKN7mQUTgLWyEcjTQRnYrekebbkN68HtrVwiEkx5T2tbm5YVOLUTEazr0/s1600/RanchJune11-003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpTPfgNLpi5jDp5uC2iehcK1g7VoBLu1-9YVLntATtd6PNeANMiX2DJ9XRBz-dB_8rFkXV773axqoFxE_T9fKKN7mQUTgLWyEcjTQRnYrekebbkN68HtrVwiEkx5T2tbm5YVOLUTEazr0/s400/RanchJune11-003.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Pest control. Cocoa does a good job getting rid of the most heinous pests such as lizards (insert sarcasm), but the rest of the suckers, like the locusts (as in Old Testament, Moses and the Ten Plagues of Egypt locusts), have to be chemically eradicated. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1LzdjTqsmAy5hbn-XSHVPtyAusikZy8IvZeS1H1_s21_FiDpYDVhV5bOoIc3a0hQ3oKrF3WiHxJIEb08igQP7ecH7OI1DXbykywMN9d_bFIRjGgUbN1Ebl0pPktIiXsSwiiH8TucTmc/s1600/RanchJune11-005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1LzdjTqsmAy5hbn-XSHVPtyAusikZy8IvZeS1H1_s21_FiDpYDVhV5bOoIc3a0hQ3oKrF3WiHxJIEb08igQP7ecH7OI1DXbykywMN9d_bFIRjGgUbN1Ebl0pPktIiXsSwiiH8TucTmc/s400/RanchJune11-005.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Natural selection got these ones (the little yellow dots floating in the puddle underneath the cattle guard). Turns out locusts can’t swim. Silly little locusts.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjboCtYOIgSzaD828X12uaDpU-VoLSrMJrPrsKWcBbD6rMdqfUt3hxbT96zUkCpeEpuNWiR2DNw1-pZnvgFdVSvB1X13_pKY7RxuaagfmTMXnDqDQ1nxE7gvAf2RUHZ9x1prGqPjQw3RGM/s1600/RanchJune11-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjboCtYOIgSzaD828X12uaDpU-VoLSrMJrPrsKWcBbD6rMdqfUt3hxbT96zUkCpeEpuNWiR2DNw1-pZnvgFdVSvB1X13_pKY7RxuaagfmTMXnDqDQ1nxE7gvAf2RUHZ9x1prGqPjQw3RGM/s400/RanchJune11-007.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
Tend to the animals. So this one's not really true because the cattle on the ranch are taken care of by the cowboys and Wilhelmina here… well she's a pig. She takes care of herself. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSKyE_Zehs1bQl5gGWUs8nn7YCUGUexJhecuNok7392xFfpYwpTuLXf1Saevix9heeoWQuNgoAygcILvYT3J6u6BvVjULr1U5AHxGjUeeIjj5HDtjZnXjGJjhZIJ5oXJc15s73sBROYM/s1600/RanchJune11-006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSKyE_Zehs1bQl5gGWUs8nn7YCUGUexJhecuNok7392xFfpYwpTuLXf1Saevix9heeoWQuNgoAygcILvYT3J6u6BvVjULr1U5AHxGjUeeIjj5HDtjZnXjGJjhZIJ5oXJc15s73sBROYM/s400/RanchJune11-006.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
She might take care of you too by biting off your finger, but that's just a hunch I have. Feel free to stick your finger in her pen and prove me wrong. I was too chicken to try it. <br />
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And let's not forget: Stay cool. During the summer, the temperature at the ranch reaches the high 90's and low 100's, meaning you don't want to spend much time outside except if you're in the pool. I chose to stay inside and enjoy the air conditioning. A picture of me in a bikini might make you faint, so went with this one: the view from inside Rolling Thunder. <br />
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We'll be heading up to the ranch this weekend, as it's that time of year again: blackberry picking season. I'm sure your mouth's watering in anticipation of our delicious Blackberry Holiday Hooch. It might even get better this year if we pay attention to what we’re doing. Here’s to hoping!Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-28915965266153905182011-07-08T14:27:00.000-07:002011-07-08T15:21:00.578-07:00Funny Honey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7vFYfhJZ3_CP0zp130_iRHaJeFSKG9Cj5Znn_r6H40Ii0ATeZDm__iVmfITiC2Lfu5dUEXuZ-LRkODaSvpTs2jqyi5UZVH4tq3R-cMKWtUGLL80BgOxJe3ZP6zrvnpy_PebLzs0bvZnI/s1600/IMG_1713.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7vFYfhJZ3_CP0zp130_iRHaJeFSKG9Cj5Znn_r6H40Ii0ATeZDm__iVmfITiC2Lfu5dUEXuZ-LRkODaSvpTs2jqyi5UZVH4tq3R-cMKWtUGLL80BgOxJe3ZP6zrvnpy_PebLzs0bvZnI/s400/IMG_1713.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
If there was only one thing that I could accomplish with each of my blog posts, it would be to make my husband laugh. It's kind of a strange thing to want, especially when I can talk to him in real life and not have to do it in this roundabout, blog post way. But I like spending my time and energy here, and I know he's one person (maybe the only person) that appreciates my quirky blog, so it's only natural I try and please my audience. And since I don't have some bizarre childhood story to tell, or some interesting current event to recap, I'm going to do this one completely off the cuff. So here goes…<br />
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First off, do you really think I look like a Tyrannosaurus Rex? I know you had good intentions when you said it… actually, I don't remember why you said it, but you clearly have me mixed up with some other person. Yes, I like to eat, but have you seen my wingspan? I'm the person that gets called over when someone can't reach the Tupperware that's hidden somewhere on the top shelf, not some miniature armed weirdo who can't even reach down and pick out the lint from their own bellybutton.<br />
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Did you know that when I was little, I used to pick my nose in bed and wipe the boogers on the wall beside me? There was quite a collection of dried boogers by the time my mother realized what was going on. I don't think you knew that, and now that you do, you probably don't think it's funny… I'm trying ok! </div><br />
Do you know how I learned to be such an awesome dancer? I used to take dance lessons in high school. <br />
Every day after school… <br />
In front of the mirror… <br />
In my parent's bedroom… <br />
For five minute sessions…<br />
Listening to hip hop and salsa music…<br />
Being my own instructor.<br />
TRUE STORY.<br />
Worked out well didn't it?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I'm thinking about getting a tattoo on my face. I'm deciding between "Don't Care" tattooed on my eye lid (Get it? Eye *blink* "Don't Care"... I don't care!), and "Your Ad Here" tattooed on my forehead, in case we get strapped for cash and I have to sell out my body for display advertising.<br />
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Oh, and guess what? Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday. Today i-is Friday, Friday. We-we-we so excited. We so excited. We gonna have a ball today!Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-4198171777254900442011-07-07T09:08:00.000-07:002011-07-07T09:09:20.741-07:00A Wee Bit Distracted<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1-5eYG15vn9OnEcgZ2kH9boyzuqzhw740-ECm9KoWs1jNOuUL7gpMReqn-tQJYSnUzQlP_xZNGOXK4XmC8NF__wKfQKybcefwyb09J5daR0yMHjWlei9uNjJWyoBpXoUmvArLqD4VfM/s1600/Birthday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1-5eYG15vn9OnEcgZ2kH9boyzuqzhw740-ECm9KoWs1jNOuUL7gpMReqn-tQJYSnUzQlP_xZNGOXK4XmC8NF__wKfQKybcefwyb09J5daR0yMHjWlei9uNjJWyoBpXoUmvArLqD4VfM/s400/Birthday.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I can’t help it. <br />
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I can’t get his cubby cheeks, squishy little arms, tiny toes and adorable face out of my mind. <br />
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He’s such a sweet, whittle baby. <br />
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I’m so excited you’re here Baby Matthew! And I’m sorry I had to leave Michigan so soon. Thank you for letting me be your Auntie. I can't wait to see you again!Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-67613163566397674802011-06-29T10:49:00.000-07:002011-06-29T10:51:03.783-07:00Running for NachosSometime around March 11th 1986, a small, mischievous girl named Jocelyn coaxed her lazy legs to stand and willed them to move forward. After a few wobbly steps, she decided this slow, dull motion was unsatisfactory; she must figure out how to move faster. The fuzzy tail of family's feline caught her attention, and without much thought, she took off running after it. It was then that the world according to her father and mother changed forever. <br />
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Running has always been a part of my life. It started with that fated moment when I was just a baby, and hasn't stopped since. My parents, searching for an outlet in which we could channel our energy, placed my sister and I in track and field at a young age (I'm thinking 5, but I could've been 4). <br />
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I have so many memories from running: when I was 7 or 8, and my sister and I where on a 5 mile run with my Dad (child abuse anyone?). I was not in the mood nor enjoying this "family activity" when I slipped and fell (maybe on purpose), scrapping my entire palm so it was filled with dirt and gravel, and my Dad saying there was no way I was getting out of the run even if I was bleeding... and I should suck it up and stop crying. Oh the memories. <br />
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And there was the time I got kicked off the cross country team in high school because the coach overheard me yelling at my sister, telling her to slow down her pace so I could keep up with her. Apparently, my unsportsmanlike and self-serving attitude was like a disease that could spread and damage the entire team. I had to write a heartfelt apology to be let back on a team sport I hated (No, I did not choose to run cross country in high school; my parents forced me). My apology probably went something like this: <br />
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Dear Coach, <br />
I'm so sorry for my actions the other day. They were uncalled for and disrespectful to you and my other teammates. If you give me the opportunity to prove myself and let me back on the team, I guarantee something like this will never happen again. This team means so much to me, and I appreciate all the training and guidance you've given me over the last two years. Sincerely, Jocelyn.<br />
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I've had to write a lot of apology letters for "my actions" in this lifetime. I can pump 'em out like Cocoa can fart (sorry, he's been really fart-active lately, so it's been on my mind. Also, why is the dog allowed to fart around my husband, but I am not? There's something wrong with that).<br />
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But the point of this story (and I assure you there is one!), is that you have to give people goals and make the rewards very apparent if you're going to ask (or demand) they participate in challenging activities like running. The reward that always made running worth the effort for me was nachos - sweet, delicious, neon orange, cheesy, crunchy, wonderfulness. I would dream about all the nachos I could eat during track meets. Would my mom only allow me to buy one serving, or could I convince her to let me get two? Would I share my nachos with anyone? Or would I sit under the bleachers where no one could see me so that I wouldn't have to share? I think it was the nachos that pulled me over the hump and made me realize running did a lot more good for my body than bad. Nachos were good, and every time I was at a track meet there were nachos for sale, so it must have meant that running was good too. <br />
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So the next time you're trying to get your child, brother, sister, mother to do something, coax 'em with a fresh plate of nachos. I think it'll do the trick.Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-34918697448864415562011-06-23T16:24:00.000-07:002011-06-28T11:41:26.686-07:00Secret GardenOne of the things I love most about the house we live in is the backyard. What used to be a mix of dead lawn and dusty cactuses is now a secret (and practical) garden. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZJ5aMOc3PWfqE-lQVQOZ11EaTKOD_ThrpBGPc1SpqiLPwgyQ9Q7zrand9KkFr34_mn3l2IlO9Xl0CoRDg4mah4V18tL1eJEwRuGtljrk7tHSlkuWwhayHc6j3ThR7fQMxC-EgQUQaTA/s1600/BackyardGarden-015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZJ5aMOc3PWfqE-lQVQOZ11EaTKOD_ThrpBGPc1SpqiLPwgyQ9Q7zrand9KkFr34_mn3l2IlO9Xl0CoRDg4mah4V18tL1eJEwRuGtljrk7tHSlkuWwhayHc6j3ThR7fQMxC-EgQUQaTA/s320/BackyardGarden-015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
The yard is sectioned into three different areas: the lawn (where Cocoa does his thing), the gravel path and fountain (doesn’t it look like a giant cat litter box?), and the succulent garden (the actual “garden” part of the yard).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-IcFOgh_0oLpwK6OTUQEy0CegiaTW59VI82CDTdSux0EEbPETlWEgsC9MqMwTQnF61PTvE76Yx1KBy4UMuHnihx0FVDmiTeDaHMX_lhYj8hqMB8YuGujG44U-hDXQg6HO7LO2GrHSC4/s1600/BackyardGarden-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-IcFOgh_0oLpwK6OTUQEy0CegiaTW59VI82CDTdSux0EEbPETlWEgsC9MqMwTQnF61PTvE76Yx1KBy4UMuHnihx0FVDmiTeDaHMX_lhYj8hqMB8YuGujG44U-hDXQg6HO7LO2GrHSC4/s320/BackyardGarden-001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The other morning, before the Valley summer heat set in, I did a little frolicking in the succulent section of the yard. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9RAzd1ujBAfHmdX9XqBC3sxTxkE0giS50h2P3HJmQxrRUhtA050vizGFQ3Rq_eGKQlLODNUl3r-QjZc9RBzAfH-LpyVrQE74YIh1cwVO7B19POjMMaR1thJki7fF5txD1B3spBWn4oI/s1600/BackyardGarden-004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9RAzd1ujBAfHmdX9XqBC3sxTxkE0giS50h2P3HJmQxrRUhtA050vizGFQ3Rq_eGKQlLODNUl3r-QjZc9RBzAfH-LpyVrQE74YIh1cwVO7B19POjMMaR1thJki7fF5txD1B3spBWn4oI/s320/BackyardGarden-004.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
The morning dew, combined with the fresh, bright colors, transported me to a different world... <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8GxT0TZdWD6RviHUfxpHWisaL9QvNr6HUXHWOyX8n7XWP8WAkhyphenhyphenfrPEKE3hwTAB6x81im-WYHQp18pfhmlJk2AmWuiHAdISntkvKpxea_XFnIoC967-sSo48JNcLngOo8LYK6LNQN87I/s1600/BackyardGarden-006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8GxT0TZdWD6RviHUfxpHWisaL9QvNr6HUXHWOyX8n7XWP8WAkhyphenhyphenfrPEKE3hwTAB6x81im-WYHQp18pfhmlJk2AmWuiHAdISntkvKpxea_XFnIoC967-sSo48JNcLngOo8LYK6LNQN87I/s320/BackyardGarden-006.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Into a wondrous, secret garden. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOT5ErqQtAhyphenhyphenRNHC6Xm2PCoktuOCAs9SD6TYgWyiTVvkB2669jh80VtNJpSKJugpb1GlpJRrDfneA3kT0TvFuYqikFLfPIPdvSfAXi_YL40XD0wrpGI6L8keiLFixidHzbTuEzYxBV0Y/s1600/BackyardGarden-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDOT5ErqQtAhyphenhyphenRNHC6Xm2PCoktuOCAs9SD6TYgWyiTVvkB2669jh80VtNJpSKJugpb1GlpJRrDfneA3kT0TvFuYqikFLfPIPdvSfAXi_YL40XD0wrpGI6L8keiLFixidHzbTuEzYxBV0Y/s320/BackyardGarden-007.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Being out in the garden makes me wish I was one-twentieth of my normal size.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdj9MvPKM5ukgyD3zgbnl-vVi3XlNoQgYP6kWA2myq6a_y-1wzQMIUOjWmeKxVxpNWesZOpixhSYmEPHrnxuAUjRpbE5BDt7P6IXljhSuGb7aokdWdjV_nl85f4cyN9mp6OOXavCuAdng/s1600/BackyardGarden-008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdj9MvPKM5ukgyD3zgbnl-vVi3XlNoQgYP6kWA2myq6a_y-1wzQMIUOjWmeKxVxpNWesZOpixhSYmEPHrnxuAUjRpbE5BDt7P6IXljhSuGb7aokdWdjV_nl85f4cyN9mp6OOXavCuAdng/s320/BackyardGarden-008.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
I could lie on this soft bed of groundcover.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLgQ2dOmKEPsbB_Yw6_pHEdUAQvIiUmjgX-u6bzXhtthIZoRqlWUBaGvXEwFO-X4y8tqnG6ES5eEyqHA8s7Uce-Y1Pwz2ToMDv2Jy_Ri_9OEt8jHSy5SCkNV2Yp3bep4PuLk1Ultvu6Jk/s1600/BackyardGarden-009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLgQ2dOmKEPsbB_Yw6_pHEdUAQvIiUmjgX-u6bzXhtthIZoRqlWUBaGvXEwFO-X4y8tqnG6ES5eEyqHA8s7Uce-Y1Pwz2ToMDv2Jy_Ri_9OEt8jHSy5SCkNV2Yp3bep4PuLk1Ultvu6Jk/s320/BackyardGarden-009.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
And climb the lush, bushy shrubs.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzUC6IhGHikaOO1DBzLO1wgFIUKaMZCBQCw2EG-CmcZVLdI3FMzqpFGzQ2-AYpBJOAcKIVwPXtdGLQbjAyAzNWWntHXaqfRARqPmyN52Dy9-Yq_Xg3oizvewxWjnLH_8GtGOQf-exdVM/s1600/BackyardGarden-011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzUC6IhGHikaOO1DBzLO1wgFIUKaMZCBQCw2EG-CmcZVLdI3FMzqpFGzQ2-AYpBJOAcKIVwPXtdGLQbjAyAzNWWntHXaqfRARqPmyN52Dy9-Yq_Xg3oizvewxWjnLH_8GtGOQf-exdVM/s320/BackyardGarden-011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I could forage for wild vegetables and berries. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglB4qFg2t3XSqE9J1AryDjLh6LMkKfwYNqcXv6d5zjdqmqauUHKsBdN7CxKj-SCucR86EDRfa2e_H0XgHXqMliV4_kefsn6AzmltywsDdSGTw24kdhsmVv7R7bhj80a9sPsH4Vh6Sj2_s/s1600/BackyardGarden-013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglB4qFg2t3XSqE9J1AryDjLh6LMkKfwYNqcXv6d5zjdqmqauUHKsBdN7CxKj-SCucR86EDRfa2e_H0XgHXqMliV4_kefsn6AzmltywsDdSGTw24kdhsmVv7R7bhj80a9sPsH4Vh6Sj2_s/s320/BackyardGarden-013.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<span lang="">And splash my face with the morning’s dew. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XNwWd8-249rn9IOOcJSUIrwHCyWp8BNGI2c7F48RqQV3xLhRNI50ssZdwQZhyphenhyphent1dLgsMr15PUpwrXh6cmW3wc51l2DNmKc9dHKljAE-3lUc54YsstAuHw9uncGxqb5M1BowhdXX6le0/s1600/BackyardGarden-014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XNwWd8-249rn9IOOcJSUIrwHCyWp8BNGI2c7F48RqQV3xLhRNI50ssZdwQZhyphenhyphent1dLgsMr15PUpwrXh6cmW3wc51l2DNmKc9dHKljAE-3lUc54YsstAuHw9uncGxqb5M1BowhdXX6le0/s320/BackyardGarden-014.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
I love that a bunch of succulents and groundcover can awaken my adventurous spirit.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzpaG7FVmFF8LvAXW2apdnlDVBkZNvVfIKQ-T72BziXdIyG5k0Htu9X79GTcJ7S179QUAstfQHZl27TJ5OagevsjIz_Kizu8wQzQaYtcFMDWWOIzFLjCVMN7Vy048tISEltC19B68xGQ/s1600/BackyardGarden-010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSzpaG7FVmFF8LvAXW2apdnlDVBkZNvVfIKQ-T72BziXdIyG5k0Htu9X79GTcJ7S179QUAstfQHZl27TJ5OagevsjIz_Kizu8wQzQaYtcFMDWWOIzFLjCVMN7Vy048tISEltC19B68xGQ/s320/BackyardGarden-010.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>And I encourage you to do the same! Go out and enjoy the little things in life.<br />
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Or, alternatively, redo your backyard with a bunch of low water plants. That’s the real reason for this fabulous section of the yard: a lawn’s too expensive.</div>Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-85488947288265645272011-06-20T12:57:00.000-07:002011-06-20T13:00:34.552-07:00Shackin It Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfsYJTNFDAerraS6WesfTvOMTqV6BmQjMNtqIK6RyPmudMq15vLcxEF5ljt92xzdNG3fi8XXXPDPlKAOoB4iicFCTufB-ZAK8sQaV9cZqz2qctjBLx9GK0BvdTlCjCEcIV2gNqUj9bK64/s1600/SSJune12-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfsYJTNFDAerraS6WesfTvOMTqV6BmQjMNtqIK6RyPmudMq15vLcxEF5ljt92xzdNG3fi8XXXPDPlKAOoB4iicFCTufB-ZAK8sQaV9cZqz2qctjBLx9GK0BvdTlCjCEcIV2gNqUj9bK64/s400/SSJune12-001.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Has anyone been to the Sugar Shack lately? Because apparently I don’t go there anymore. It’s been almost two months since I gave a remodel update! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajdcuC3dBSCTYkITN2kNnjzkWTSbLHeGvcgm5BhksUjbb4q_z7xLMXx40EL6Kd8PUk2xVEnZV3XPwcxxcZ-noRUXKg1d1yJ3PWMDkG0QW0Q7feSkz1jyAWS87PBSd1RLd4C9RVdPUb_Y/s1600/SSJune12-003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajdcuC3dBSCTYkITN2kNnjzkWTSbLHeGvcgm5BhksUjbb4q_z7xLMXx40EL6Kd8PUk2xVEnZV3XPwcxxcZ-noRUXKg1d1yJ3PWMDkG0QW0Q7feSkz1jyAWS87PBSd1RLd4C9RVdPUb_Y/s400/SSJune12-003.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Despite my neglect, things have been chugging along in the remodel process. The most prominent updates are the addition of stone and primer paint to the exterior of the house, the construction of a stone fireplace in the living room, and the application of drywall throughout the interior of the house. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTViBCJfDvY6ROVekycJxHbUNsr8HuQNB1oozyyixgnfBIfAPom9aQliGtxKxl5tSC0eeN57qUf2sTqjjjhsg3nhN06Dd5BTX07CZz3qy-z3S5-b3PTAaqJyuEvNSbGKjU0EXNZD-R-DU/s1600/SSJune12-015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTViBCJfDvY6ROVekycJxHbUNsr8HuQNB1oozyyixgnfBIfAPom9aQliGtxKxl5tSC0eeN57qUf2sTqjjjhsg3nhN06Dd5BTX07CZz3qy-z3S5-b3PTAaqJyuEvNSbGKjU0EXNZD-R-DU/s400/SSJune12-015.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
Come on in, let's take a look.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17j9D6oOd-s_kfs-XQ6mnmnpwyIhNYoARskPFsOTFLRq5q2nYMceE0XHDFPTYJ8ag2uGXxpTkZ0CeTy5EYwKdQ7VaVSGNpKQ259Bixsl9CJfneHbjojlchOQSzBZPDlv0Oc1baBlj-L8/s1600/SSJune12-005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17j9D6oOd-s_kfs-XQ6mnmnpwyIhNYoARskPFsOTFLRq5q2nYMceE0XHDFPTYJ8ag2uGXxpTkZ0CeTy5EYwKdQ7VaVSGNpKQ259Bixsl9CJfneHbjojlchOQSzBZPDlv0Oc1baBlj-L8/s400/SSJune12-005.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span lang="">Drywall is very interesting to me. I don’t know much about it, except that I used to think drywall and stucco were synonymous. They are not.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi342oy_ibl09Sio4AkK_bYt-T2vqwEZYjXjtMBkgXcKWzrfh6SlagZ0JH54tqw26TjEQXmMHz_GsZT8OgT-CHFcUBO4TUV-sVDEnfRM4g98fupuR7RbnSDEn8Nrx_WC4biXr0evciWOr4/s1600/SSJune12-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi342oy_ibl09Sio4AkK_bYt-T2vqwEZYjXjtMBkgXcKWzrfh6SlagZ0JH54tqw26TjEQXmMHz_GsZT8OgT-CHFcUBO4TUV-sVDEnfRM4g98fupuR7RbnSDEn8Nrx_WC4biXr0evciWOr4/s400/SSJune12-007.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
<span lang="">Now that the drywall’s in, we have walls and ceilings where there used to be gaping holes! Progress I tell you. Progress. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQx-ADCrMMhRmE0t8mnjsCFzLqy2DWXEP5-IJMJHh_lzk3PsLggTIpttBZpFEOzQTJ6ZZxgRxGM8TM0YaX79qM12sWmk_R0NSEgaULXW-zWYja5rlPIhgOSncokF0noJ5fTkrVH3h6LNA/s1600/SSJune12-008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQx-ADCrMMhRmE0t8mnjsCFzLqy2DWXEP5-IJMJHh_lzk3PsLggTIpttBZpFEOzQTJ6ZZxgRxGM8TM0YaX79qM12sWmk_R0NSEgaULXW-zWYja5rlPIhgOSncokF0noJ5fTkrVH3h6LNA/s400/SSJune12-008.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And there’s the stone fireplace in the back. You can’t really tell from the photo, but some stone pieces were strategically placed to create shelves, which will be useful if we want to place photos or other decorations over the fireplace. They are also some smaller, broken stone pieces that jut out between the larger flat pieces. I’m not sure what we can use these for yet. Christmas stocking holders?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBUnYaXAerXK74CTSIO_4xKNrgGqGdF63iEyG-rj8zSb5b8yi27VsZhKwvDqwqpikUXnk3fOPeyb5GOItDg9o3Wileo2pOzZgceLp4SKiIMTuMGQcGOilLsBAkfbCuHz-bCURvhMoCgM/s1600/SSJune12-009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBUnYaXAerXK74CTSIO_4xKNrgGqGdF63iEyG-rj8zSb5b8yi27VsZhKwvDqwqpikUXnk3fOPeyb5GOItDg9o3Wileo2pOzZgceLp4SKiIMTuMGQcGOilLsBAkfbCuHz-bCURvhMoCgM/s400/SSJune12-009.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The view from the living room into the dining room. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8vyd1oHwUSYw4ZGIGO960Du2715GbQxRTsJ_3goQ6K7h32F4CPrxSg4rkvCdr4VroCrLJ5uZ3Ky6hjLIH9MDLO2aeB2PPtI8PGstFe2E7hU8E8tl0gcoB_STCg_RBaIAloK4ZttRzdM/s1600/SSJune12-012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8vyd1oHwUSYw4ZGIGO960Du2715GbQxRTsJ_3goQ6K7h32F4CPrxSg4rkvCdr4VroCrLJ5uZ3Ky6hjLIH9MDLO2aeB2PPtI8PGstFe2E7hU8E8tl0gcoB_STCg_RBaIAloK4ZttRzdM/s400/SSJune12-012.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Here’s the kitchen. Notice the green board drywall. That's special waterproof drywall which is placed behind all the sinks, toilets, and other areas of the walls that are liable to come in contact with water. Apparently, regular drywall will disintegrate if it gets wet. I’m glad we got someone who knows what they’re doing to build this house!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwvERCuURY6ph7_1vagRuKd1Liltm8fFEDvTyCyLijy1vKM_My9hBfvbrp5kqCGCli3GwnByna66xiSEW0iJj1Qc1EZHrrfzfR-srwRS0XC08ZJ_8LMwdaurmC_txjWlMPgekuZ4coFBQ/s1600/SSJune12-011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwvERCuURY6ph7_1vagRuKd1Liltm8fFEDvTyCyLijy1vKM_My9hBfvbrp5kqCGCli3GwnByna66xiSEW0iJj1Qc1EZHrrfzfR-srwRS0XC08ZJ_8LMwdaurmC_txjWlMPgekuZ4coFBQ/s400/SSJune12-011.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The view from inside the kitchen looking into the dining room and living room.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUerPqPVXvM1C8mXUwQZf95H3FzyxW8IHeWtICNyWBHv-zH2qDZd3ycnKud-1enaCfVZxzP4A7w0a47zv2e9V288WS35_orOdhmN_O9vx0y57FZlUY680W8vDASNGXGJWBrMzIZtsn0vA/s1600/SSJune12-014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUerPqPVXvM1C8mXUwQZf95H3FzyxW8IHeWtICNyWBHv-zH2qDZd3ycnKud-1enaCfVZxzP4A7w0a47zv2e9V288WS35_orOdhmN_O9vx0y57FZlUY680W8vDASNGXGJWBrMzIZtsn0vA/s400/SSJune12-014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>And our super exciting, cement back porch! With a bunch of junk on it. <br />
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Things should really get moving in the next couple of weeks. That is of course, if I manage to get my act together and help out. Home Depot here I come!Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-51300376867280811922011-06-15T14:10:00.000-07:002011-06-15T14:15:13.665-07:00Ten Vocabulary Words to Teach Your Baby<span lang=""><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2yphUKpNy-Kj1Q07r8WhGEQRNGbUB47pSPORJDF4dGq4tb3VvqjmLj18kcXuMXGEuiyTjQryKSYaIx_b4rsUTg79vkOxp86IJXhSWro3RC52uT5d8rDqIbzlpMoazgPD2gBrKLCvDzA/s1600/Thacher-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2yphUKpNy-Kj1Q07r8WhGEQRNGbUB47pSPORJDF4dGq4tb3VvqjmLj18kcXuMXGEuiyTjQryKSYaIx_b4rsUTg79vkOxp86IJXhSWro3RC52uT5d8rDqIbzlpMoazgPD2gBrKLCvDzA/s400/Thacher-001.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Due to the impending arrival of my un-named nephew, who I’ve dubbed "PM C Baby", I've compiled a list of ten vocabulary words which I think any mother should teach their baby. You can never get too early of a start molding their little brains and turning them into erudite geniuses. I find myself using these words every day, they are so important. I've also included examples for each word (most are baby themed!), to help convey their meaning. <br />
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<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">1) Erudite</div>(adj): Having or showing great knowledge or learning.<br />
My example: The sophistication of writing displayed on The Jelly Logs, indicates it is penned by a very erudite author.<br />
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<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">2) Donnybrook </div>(noun): A brawl or fracas; a scene of chaos.<br />
My example: A donnybrook broke out in the playpen, when the babies realized there was only one Tickle Me Elmo toy to share. <br />
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<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">3) Skullduggery</div>(noun): Crafty deception or trickery or an instance of it; activities intended to deceive; a con or hoax.<br />
My example: Dr. Thomas, whose medical license had been recently revoked, told the expectant mothers "If you give your baby a bottle every time they cry, you’ll be playing into their skullduggery. They’re not really hungry. Babies are just attention whores."<br />
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<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">4) Verisimilitude</div>(noun): The quality of appearing to be true or real.<br />
My example: A childless person may think <i>Jon and Kate Plus 8</i> is the verisimilitude of what it’s like to raise a large family, but a real parent knows it’s much harder to wrangle several children when you don’t have a television crew and staff helping you out. <br />
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<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">5) Ineffable </div>(adj): Incapable of being expressed; indescribable or unutterable; taboo.<br />
My example: Good mothers do not express their ineffable hatred of that purple dinosaur named Barney. Better mothers tell their children that dinosaurs went extinct millions of years ago and it’s really some pervert with BO inside the purple costume. <br />
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<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">6) Rapscallion</div>(noun): A mischievous person; a rascal; a scoundrel.<br />
My example: Her preschool teachers chose not to use her real name, Jocelyn, but instead began calling her Miss Rapscallion Grand Evil One. <br />
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<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">7) Roustabout</div></span><span lang="">(noun): A laborer employed for temporary or unskilled jobs; a circus laborer; a deck or wharf laborer, especially on the Mississippi River.</span><br />
My example: Little Jimmy had dreams of becoming a roustabout. Mother always told him he should aim low because of his ADHD. <br />
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<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">8) Equanimity</div>(noun): The quality of being calm and even-tempered; composure.<br />
My example: Despite the baby food in her hair, the feces underneath her fingernails, and the constant crying blasting over the baby monitor, young Jeanie displayed remarkable equanimity as she watched the second line appear on pregnancy test she was holding in her hands. <br />
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<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">9) Salubrious</div>(adj): Promoting health or well-being; wholesome.<br />
My example: "What is this salubrious beverage I am drinking?" the young lady asked. "It is champagne, but of course" her loving companion answered. <br />
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<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">10) Zaftig</div>(adj): Full-bosomed; having a full, shapely figure.<br />
My example: The zaftig mother on the cover of this month’s issue of <i>American Baby</i> exhibits the benefits of effective breastfeeding.Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-38398911469866490332011-06-14T16:35:00.000-07:002011-06-14T16:41:45.407-07:00Bereft<span lang=""></span><br />
<span lang=""><div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">I did something on May 21<sup>st</sup> that I’ve likened to having a baby. There was lots of planning, planning, planning, then a BIG delivery, but then my baby was taken away like I gave it up for adoption. Therefore, I have been feeling a bit bereft lately. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDzucRIRt9Ov_-Qdim0O3IA6Q5IZ4eg5pQ0fyklMRc6IHAJE58c5oVwQlV5cwIXs9S0r7gqusSXDHi87hYNQ37xjyH3EhIVhspjLlnEP1KMMpasFs4wpke93WsRPUpL7EfdM1GqfqZBU/s1600/_MG_6749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDzucRIRt9Ov_-Qdim0O3IA6Q5IZ4eg5pQ0fyklMRc6IHAJE58c5oVwQlV5cwIXs9S0r7gqusSXDHi87hYNQ37xjyH3EhIVhspjLlnEP1KMMpasFs4wpke93WsRPUpL7EfdM1GqfqZBU/s400/_MG_6749.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Oh where did my baby go? 48 hours of partying was not enough.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQZHwTD1A9kChdhPnq8pgu2KkBxHf6fMERnMdSD-EYe5Ua5_9wwCEvuHXUQviIh834erF5IL1snfr_7-JOscYsEhki4iO7405JihsW9aCxSsa6ivEcWZ-c4S0TsWNFfwy1HWOisAt6vOk/s1600/IMG_9162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQZHwTD1A9kChdhPnq8pgu2KkBxHf6fMERnMdSD-EYe5Ua5_9wwCEvuHXUQviIh834erF5IL1snfr_7-JOscYsEhki4iO7405JihsW9aCxSsa6ivEcWZ-c4S0TsWNFfwy1HWOisAt6vOk/s400/IMG_9162.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
Oh where did my baby go? She was so beautiful, wasn’t she?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQl6v_CG5aw0g5mZX4Ptgl_uwITWOwRpF6yzCl5657ioghVgKLHQi19MTXwBmsDoCfLNBAkUtVHH2yxlv1iPNiYc9hSh9ztqeNzlvaiSv3egE1T2O_OxIBFYduG2cSVBr00HM60a_wZwY/s1600/IMG_9622.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQl6v_CG5aw0g5mZX4Ptgl_uwITWOwRpF6yzCl5657ioghVgKLHQi19MTXwBmsDoCfLNBAkUtVHH2yxlv1iPNiYc9hSh9ztqeNzlvaiSv3egE1T2O_OxIBFYduG2cSVBr00HM60a_wZwY/s400/IMG_9622.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><br />
It doesn’t help that my fabulous photographer sent me these few images as a tease. I want the rest!</span>Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-29201002736694967132011-06-08T20:27:00.000-07:002011-06-09T09:54:22.984-07:00In the Spirit of Tina Fey<span lang="EN"></span><br />
<span lang="EN"><div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">While I was waiting for my flight to depart Monday evening, to take me out of that godforsaken place known as Indiana, I wandered over to the bookstore and purchased a copy of Tina Fey’s <i>BossyPants</i>. I had originally wanted to get this book from the library (Seriously people, the library is free. Why don’t more people use it?), but seeing how the wait list for the book was 137 people long, I decided I would wait to read it until 2019. Fortunately, it’s availability at the bookstore and my lack of anything to do on a four hour flight, meant that I was able to read the whole book in its delightful entirety. </div><br />
<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">I haven’t seen more than 30 minutes of <i>30 Rock</i>, and I’m only a casual viewer of <i>Saturday Night Live</i>, but any dodo knows that Tina Fey is one funny woman; and I’m happy to report that <i>BossyPants</i> delivers in the funny department. It’s a great read. But what I was surprised with after finishing the book, is that Tina Fey’s hilarious honesty also makes her sound like a bitch. Perhaps I had this idea that Tina was a sweet, comedic, supermom that only made jokes because it was her job, but was more of an introvert in her normal life. But if this book is her memoir, it appears Tina’s blatant honesty and no regrets, take charge attitude permeates through her whole life. And I like it. </div><br />
<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">Not everybody is going to like you, and only a special few will love you, and what’s so bad about that? Why try to mold your actions and opinions so they jive with the rest of the world? They should only have to jive with you. That’s it. And if it means you come off sounding like a bitch, then se la vie. Amy Poehler certainly did when she told Jimmy Fallon "I don't give a fuck if you like it!" at a SNL writer’s meeting late one night, and Tina quotes this as a turning point in her view of life and work. Ultimately, you have to do what’s best for you and not be afraid to stick up for yourself.</div><br />
<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">Besides being pleasantly surprised by the book’s takeaways (namely: work hard, don’t take yourself too seriously, experience life, don’t think in terms of this-is-the-end-of-the-world… and LAUGH) I have been feeling a symbiotic relationship with Tina’s sense of humor. During my entire run yesterday, I was telling myself jokes and pretending I was a standup comedian. I thought I was genius (in hindsight it seems really sad). I even came up with a bit about gold bars: how the government should bring back precious metals as a form of currency, if only for the fact that dudes could slam a gold bar on the bar and double impress a lady when buying her a drink. Ya, doesn’t seem so funny now. I'll relegate that one to my "shit nugget" pile (as Tina calls them), and keep mining for a "golden nugget". </div><br />
<div align="LEFT" dir="LTR">But I will tell you that me and Ms. Fey have something in common! She displays an un-photoshoped image of herself in the book where she looks like an old lady, and check out what I've been looking like these days:</div><div align="LEFT" dir="LTR"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGqeyEERMG61YIbV3dXeXGbFLNX-OKz3sWzW9AqMRh7W-P41jVPV7znvCko969hxzbjEWsQOtiAFsDmevn-5rYTMT5UI90E5z7oDWDLJ2Ro2fUMkLzePIpBtijiUFSXz0pSyBEGlZUjgY/s1600/old_lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGqeyEERMG61YIbV3dXeXGbFLNX-OKz3sWzW9AqMRh7W-P41jVPV7znvCko969hxzbjEWsQOtiAFsDmevn-5rYTMT5UI90E5z7oDWDLJ2Ro2fUMkLzePIpBtijiUFSXz0pSyBEGlZUjgY/s400/old_lady.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div align="LEFT" dir="LTR"><br />
</div>We’re practically twins!<br />
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(Background: I used that image in my 26th birthday email invite, and not to say my comedic genius outranks Ms. Fey's, but her book didn't come out till April 5th. My birthday is April 2nd. She totally stole my grandma joke.)</span>Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-41013442670801813132011-06-02T14:53:00.000-07:002011-06-07T14:45:11.246-07:00White Wine to Whet Your AppetiteI’ll be braving the Indiana humidity this weekend (oh how I love summer work trips), and since I’m going to be working, I’ll have to entrust you with the drinking. And seeing how my best friend thinks I write a blog about wine (clearly, she doesn't come round these parts much), I’ll attempt to direct your weekend drinking in a positive direction with two wine recommendations.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_fOn4YwPh_BGntKNt6pIm0pW8mRvaHNE5P9cGbOFj-8iyogxcgOTxYS3ElqdVCwB4T32m7ckR2so8xjRAb46vuKyQiXdkhvuTMXkuhjO1TcBccw0G7rYRvGw0LvKZ6bfr6-PpUNCmYn8/s1600/Wine-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_fOn4YwPh_BGntKNt6pIm0pW8mRvaHNE5P9cGbOFj-8iyogxcgOTxYS3ElqdVCwB4T32m7ckR2so8xjRAb46vuKyQiXdkhvuTMXkuhjO1TcBccw0G7rYRvGw0LvKZ6bfr6-PpUNCmYn8/s400/Wine-001.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
On the way back home from our brief honeymoon in San Luis Obispo, we decided to stop in Los Olivos to do some wine tasting. After visiting Bridlewood Winery, a behemoth of a winery with extensive grounds and a huge tasting room (the wines are so-so), we decided to head back up the road and visit a smaller winery which I had never heard of: Brander Winery. The winery is in the process of remodeling their small tasting room, but the space was bright and open, and the tasting fee was only $5.00 (tasting fees in the Santa Barbara/Santa Ynez/Los Olivos area can run anywhere from $5.00 to $15.00). Brander Winery focuses on white wines, predominately in the Sauvignon Blanc varietal. The following two were my favorites. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuHFcquEpLNW2uK30FpUH60gNJbwjEO4KbEWv3kkXie5kotC3-SXj6xkrTxIit9RcsBSMWmZbrkCX3bVdvBopcRADGmfI4FsIjghzTNWMw7PXxOzhhJ0sikgqFiVOxWSi_9iDUg7p2RPQ/s1600/Wine-003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuHFcquEpLNW2uK30FpUH60gNJbwjEO4KbEWv3kkXie5kotC3-SXj6xkrTxIit9RcsBSMWmZbrkCX3bVdvBopcRADGmfI4FsIjghzTNWMw7PXxOzhhJ0sikgqFiVOxWSi_9iDUg7p2RPQ/s400/Wine-003.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
The first is a traditional Sauv Blanc; light, crisp, and with a nice floral aroma. The winery employee who was assisting us with our tasting told us that this wine is currently served in the White House. Apparently, Ronald Regan used to have a ranch in the area (back in the day), and would come visit Brander because their Sauv Blanc was his favorite. He was such a fan, that when he moved into the White House, he requested they stock and serve Brander’s Sauv Blanc. And so, it remains on the White House menu still today.<br />
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The wine was good, and the story equally interesting, so I bought a bottle. It’ll put you back about $15.00, but it’s a nice wine to share with friends or family on a summer afternoon. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUB1Irrev1j9ufeIoJazAvsGZ6kDR4LIrTTTb-GyxOpRigPt8EX_lurR9VW0KRxFyQjZAnVztRNwMOxxbrPbbuyMaIQ0bJgPELnsuqe8lPV_q-4CS_qxumPPZ2sAOr7n4FEjWff6iCzc/s1600/Wine-002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUB1Irrev1j9ufeIoJazAvsGZ6kDR4LIrTTTb-GyxOpRigPt8EX_lurR9VW0KRxFyQjZAnVztRNwMOxxbrPbbuyMaIQ0bJgPELnsuqe8lPV_q-4CS_qxumPPZ2sAOr7n4FEjWff6iCzc/s400/Wine-002.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
The next one is Sauvignon Blanc blend called Cuvée Natalie, named after the winemaker’s daughter. The blend of Sauv Blanc, Pinot Gris and Riesling make this wine delicious, light, clean, and faintly sweet. I’m always a sucker for wine that has a little bit of a sweet, fruity element to it (I’ve slowly been weaning myself off of German Rieslings… I started drinking them like they were water), and this one fit the bill. It will also put you back about $15.00, but it’s a tad more special than the traditional Sauv Blanc described above. <br />
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So there you have it my friends. Eat, drink and be merry tonight, tomorrow or this weekend! You deserve it!Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-36463485112289250072011-05-31T19:27:00.000-07:002011-08-16T12:21:33.923-07:00Ten Things to Do to Solve the Post-Wedding Blogging BluesKeeping with my not-so-regular “Ten Things” feature on the blog, I have created a list which truthfully speaks to my state of mind as of late. Without further ado, here are Ten Things to Do to Solve the Post-Wedding Blogging Blues:<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">1) Write something.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">2) Write anything.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">3) Tell the world how your now husband, got so drunk at the pre-wedding, rehearsal dinner/Cowboy BBQ, that when the party was over, he ended up falling asleep on the trailer’s porch (I will never let him live it down… it’s too classic).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">4) Tell the world that the frustration I experienced from realizing that my future husband was drunk, sleeping on the trailer’s porch, the night before the wedding (!), induced a hysterical crying fit and several “This is such a bad sign for our future together!” cries (I will never let myself live this down… it’s also too classic).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">5) Report that “our future together” as newlyweds, at least during this last week, has been fabulous.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">6) Also report, that due to the generosity of our friends and family, we have over 80 thank you notes to write. And I’ve done my half, so that means Wes has his weekend planned out for him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">7) Reflect on the fact that although I thought I could construct and render all the details of this wedding by myself, there is no way it would have happened if it weren’t for my amazing family and friends. They spent countless hours digging themselves out from under the myriad of last minute tasks I piled on top of them, and I will be forever grateful (especially because I made it through the weekend with my sanity intact).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">8) Part of the insane, Bridezilla tasks I came up with the week before the wedding, was constructing a 14 bulb, paper lantern chandelier which would be hung over the dance floor. Note to self: creating such a large, illuminated light source in the middle of a cattle ranch will attract several things, one of which is BUGS. I think I swallowed about ten while I was violently jumping up and down to Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream”.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">9) Feel lucky that your husband loves pop music (specifically Ke$ha and Katy Perry) more than any straight man should, which results in the best, impromptu dance parties.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">10) And lastly, these have to be my two favorite photos (so far) from the weekend. Thanks PJ for helping capture the memories!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGesVBlHBq9FSuZS9Vd_BwFJBIkMfBxEDfTlYdlC4Bjlp34JDxDFOea-kJtv89QaWyM1-FVwjJs6-V_5e3nL9qr6IGrzYnADUmjrTVhhihqytPtfWsllK3adsPet0mXQtir61K7xA5Is8/s1600/253235_10100541394298306_2504297_61340390_2948471_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGesVBlHBq9FSuZS9Vd_BwFJBIkMfBxEDfTlYdlC4Bjlp34JDxDFOea-kJtv89QaWyM1-FVwjJs6-V_5e3nL9qr6IGrzYnADUmjrTVhhihqytPtfWsllK3adsPet0mXQtir61K7xA5Is8/s400/253235_10100541394298306_2504297_61340390_2948471_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">(Me and Cocoa at the rehearsal dinner/Cowboy BBQ)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOxsMWCbRUHeeO_dz8px_5VPAmRTQYbHPlmz0wo8PwB02nHFx2bZ8XzsQWogfyEoI8D22lezTxvbRBrYXT7tXe3erBy7RlZ71QCHM0QYJ9Uph0vtsdF1XCkd4h1KTSvxNRO9EVWPrgxDk/s1600/249459_10100541394323256_2504297_61340391_7231280_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOxsMWCbRUHeeO_dz8px_5VPAmRTQYbHPlmz0wo8PwB02nHFx2bZ8XzsQWogfyEoI8D22lezTxvbRBrYXT7tXe3erBy7RlZ71QCHM0QYJ9Uph0vtsdF1XCkd4h1KTSvxNRO9EVWPrgxDk/s400/249459_10100541394323256_2504297_61340391_7231280_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">(Pre-drunk-husband-sleeping-on-porch situation)</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">XOXO Jelly</div>Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-730501606088486902011-05-13T12:03:00.000-07:002011-05-13T12:03:52.132-07:00A Temporary Interruption<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWpuEgfunRuowAupU4vAvf3yp85w79ydv3nKtFAotUCRh0zGN2V_5eyxq_93UyFughNs6FK8ue1MWPDpFG61I2SDjUuF9LMSxBDJkJd2ilBOGiZtXdnUXnIs7FOYFMqZGGlRx8xvWzwbk/s1600/Koozie-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWpuEgfunRuowAupU4vAvf3yp85w79ydv3nKtFAotUCRh0zGN2V_5eyxq_93UyFughNs6FK8ue1MWPDpFG61I2SDjUuF9LMSxBDJkJd2ilBOGiZtXdnUXnIs7FOYFMqZGGlRx8xvWzwbk/s400/Koozie-001.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
Please excuse this temporary interruption. <br />
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And please have a beer in our honor.<br />
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We’re taking the plunge, jumping off the deep end, doing the unthinkable! <br />
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Well not really. <br />
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We’re just getting hitched that’s all. <br />
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And not to jinx it or anything, but I’m certain it’s going to be the best day of my life. <br />
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I'm a willful type of person.<br />
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See you on the flip side!<br />
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XOXO JellyJocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-61563292827176932702011-05-13T11:58:00.000-07:002011-05-13T11:59:06.904-07:00Mini Ranch Tour: Part 2(I had originally posted this entry earlier in the week, but somehow it disappeared. Maybe I was right about breaking Blogger with all the photo uploads, but we shall try it again.)<br />
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Shall we continue our mini ranch tour? The whole family will be heading up there this week and next for an exciting party we've planned, so it's fitting that we finish this non-comprehensive tour. Spoiler alert! There are cows. Lots of cows. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8w0tA5XbZYWctkyuiExV_IWsS4wV2juj6kkUf68QGJJOzPbUcYKtIF_IWWOCDGc4hdnp7owPXKC8mDkzoIBdv__3QQp11eOYWSV_v9A71Za8SjNY0WDkNHB8MX3GJu6BcuoQ21gunyqc/s1600/RanchMay1-020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8w0tA5XbZYWctkyuiExV_IWsS4wV2juj6kkUf68QGJJOzPbUcYKtIF_IWWOCDGc4hdnp7owPXKC8mDkzoIBdv__3QQp11eOYWSV_v9A71Za8SjNY0WDkNHB8MX3GJu6BcuoQ21gunyqc/s400/RanchMay1-020.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Now that we've made it to the other side of the creek, we can see how far our little trip has taken us. Out there in the distance are the two main houses. That's where the food, water, and most importantly, the champagne is stored. It's important to know the distance between you and a cold bottle of champagne at all times. <br />
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As we continue alongside the river, we see the most numerous, fuzzy, furry, meaty, stinky residents of the ranch.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfk7q0nUypSxhuuT8gfv-LYtEbDGCYWAlbeK0vYc7RcZHyjlM5-5e5HGohIPlCZP7Kyjno-Xh3q7QZ5kB087IncisLu_BpMj4UUHEltmZ60wrkfOHl0e_9doVENJ9mkTGQ_srVpZC7XEE/s1600/RanchMay1-022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfk7q0nUypSxhuuT8gfv-LYtEbDGCYWAlbeK0vYc7RcZHyjlM5-5e5HGohIPlCZP7Kyjno-Xh3q7QZ5kB087IncisLu_BpMj4UUHEltmZ60wrkfOHl0e_9doVENJ9mkTGQ_srVpZC7XEE/s400/RanchMay1-022.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The cows!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbVTD8ZbyQ-_JjKCrE_PkuOdeMLNIviuNnMazbfJ8ZmMTXnAyPqIJ78zA4vxJbvHE_beSFN_7dTTDh-zZUkSSsESn_vJs635ziQrJbJvwQeHHfZEpwie5RW8FOi21fIM8WF1Dau2Z1E8/s1600/RanchMay1-023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbVTD8ZbyQ-_JjKCrE_PkuOdeMLNIviuNnMazbfJ8ZmMTXnAyPqIJ78zA4vxJbvHE_beSFN_7dTTDh-zZUkSSsESn_vJs635ziQrJbJvwQeHHfZEpwie5RW8FOi21fIM8WF1Dau2Z1E8/s400/RanchMay1-023.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Cows, cows, cows. Excuse me. I mean steers, steers, steers.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9bSswIpqmSyGNuO2o1oHk5v1OacvRMzc90fkt3MS1xHZpFq5WDaeCM2htSO_ZzjI5lDxYS1pqWXiQ34L-jJBHKHVD0Xg37Ix2MwjAJW2cYpk44UXXsPlFpxi_1LNY9MXWqzR_r5yd0LY/s1600/RanchMay1-024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9bSswIpqmSyGNuO2o1oHk5v1OacvRMzc90fkt3MS1xHZpFq5WDaeCM2htSO_ZzjI5lDxYS1pqWXiQ34L-jJBHKHVD0Xg37Ix2MwjAJW2cYpk44UXXsPlFpxi_1LNY9MXWqzR_r5yd0LY/s400/RanchMay1-024.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Actually, I think this bunch is a mix of cows and steers. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDFDdwvYR9a6k1jk0TmTtu3FmLs4TlRW9b2UXyNcFpFkPfGBqRfD8_jgRhOzwhEkedTNKTP2UxIn9oakmWgpQ0kBRWccdKnI19TAXMX8clKtGTjrfgtvR1DfvzHj6qyIwyc4FSO4X_il8/s1600/RanchMay1-030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDFDdwvYR9a6k1jk0TmTtu3FmLs4TlRW9b2UXyNcFpFkPfGBqRfD8_jgRhOzwhEkedTNKTP2UxIn9oakmWgpQ0kBRWccdKnI19TAXMX8clKtGTjrfgtvR1DfvzHj6qyIwyc4FSO4X_il8/s400/RanchMay1-030.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I thought this shot was funny. Two white cows hanging out by themselves. Most of the cows/steers/bovine creatures on the ranch are of a darker variety, so these two are a little unusual. I'm not sure they know what to do with themselves. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxX2CaZEU_wiS-Hmj_sLf3JimaCJpJkzJX792WuHUjidykvKDMwQVXnZHV4RW91mrdQk-4iI5r_ItpQA970cJO3i7_yLDl6ruV-DjfuBaJ7ZEapttNUoUMcYU2a0rjyfgnk89j3nKgPMw/s1600/RanchMay1-025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxX2CaZEU_wiS-Hmj_sLf3JimaCJpJkzJX792WuHUjidykvKDMwQVXnZHV4RW91mrdQk-4iI5r_ItpQA970cJO3i7_yLDl6ruV-DjfuBaJ7ZEapttNUoUMcYU2a0rjyfgnk89j3nKgPMw/s400/RanchMay1-025.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Ok, cows we're coming through. We've got a ranch tour to finish!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDiqqtq7pTfzhg2U4-Tm0MC5xIScCmvElLq8cWTYcTVSFdEKCAoYoIjWs1NoFKWrRnS_COq7Kw34AxLOo22qAMaXDtQ9UiAwXos-swdI494bjQeXHEV7TmBXqF_6sYinQIZKMmzYy2_8/s1600/RanchMay1-026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDiqqtq7pTfzhg2U4-Tm0MC5xIScCmvElLq8cWTYcTVSFdEKCAoYoIjWs1NoFKWrRnS_COq7Kw34AxLOo22qAMaXDtQ9UiAwXos-swdI494bjQeXHEV7TmBXqF_6sYinQIZKMmzYy2_8/s400/RanchMay1-026.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Beep beep!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIyffH3kRAIANCdH1mXQCCuOSMzYFK7LErqIH0zG_PwKuVfbZGquzGr7LvSQ9_gPvdYzZ0V-71wsUImWRMofNimnHwQpqXvM0mK2WjYGdcfJCuuvzt1sel8GCjUQw4tuqXtS5Or5s_uQQ/s1600/RanchMay1-027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIyffH3kRAIANCdH1mXQCCuOSMzYFK7LErqIH0zG_PwKuVfbZGquzGr7LvSQ9_gPvdYzZ0V-71wsUImWRMofNimnHwQpqXvM0mK2WjYGdcfJCuuvzt1sel8GCjUQw4tuqXtS5Or5s_uQQ/s400/RanchMay1-027.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Coming through!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq18AGK9q8O25V8T63FsGAKfXO4nUyIRFe6NPrvjkQT4y5wxEUlx3Nj-1WhAFc5MSN8JwR2sV78B8jMPHBaO1zHRFLBGGKXV30pkX5P6l04KzwJ1ay_Ryb-doh8bwuw9fcKVIPImqGTls/s1600/RanchMay1-028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq18AGK9q8O25V8T63FsGAKfXO4nUyIRFe6NPrvjkQT4y5wxEUlx3Nj-1WhAFc5MSN8JwR2sV78B8jMPHBaO1zHRFLBGGKXV30pkX5P6l04KzwJ1ay_Ryb-doh8bwuw9fcKVIPImqGTls/s400/RanchMay1-028.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Generally, you're supposed to slow down when you pass by a cow on the ranch. This is because (and I hate to break it to you) cows are not the smartest creatures. They've been known to run INTO oncoming traffic. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwWI_jcMGA7S-kdwTZVCzETlUdIvUO662lmVOKv_cTm9UDSk3H9Qr2ZeEzcYQr9aGHEGHXVjFj3moiunFGcSb8UdA7PyIo32uuinYhyq35hNp9DKKGCEdLSXbTnLH24tm_VavHdLS23GE/s1600/RanchMay1-029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwWI_jcMGA7S-kdwTZVCzETlUdIvUO662lmVOKv_cTm9UDSk3H9Qr2ZeEzcYQr9aGHEGHXVjFj3moiunFGcSb8UdA7PyIo32uuinYhyq35hNp9DKKGCEdLSXbTnLH24tm_VavHdLS23GE/s400/RanchMay1-029.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
These fellas were smart and decided to run in the opposite direction.<br />
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That's good, because I would've been pissed if they knocked us off and I spilled my champagne. <br />
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Just kidding! I had already finished my champagne by then. <br />
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(Did you see how far we were away from the house? One glass doesn't last that long.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJDEHyU0FrikHjtN_Yi2DATkWnkc2xUpaip5cUu_5-MwHj5goYeAG56wz27SPDX7C5SnK4mLrHMu4zrwgJ14qH6g6xKvJFCXYEMftLkygrx-5GVnhkf4_-bete2023NWNWJ0KAkrtTqMg/s1600/RanchMay1-036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJDEHyU0FrikHjtN_Yi2DATkWnkc2xUpaip5cUu_5-MwHj5goYeAG56wz27SPDX7C5SnK4mLrHMu4zrwgJ14qH6g6xKvJFCXYEMftLkygrx-5GVnhkf4_-bete2023NWNWJ0KAkrtTqMg/s400/RanchMay1-036.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Due to my increasing thirst, we decided to head back to the house. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV74jlDPbdjuMV34CL-ZtcW8eWlh_6eVmiYvsIxu-0mdyEsMghxg6f57YZbYUXzU9abmg-ru3QPMbns2CAVMx_EX4Vty2Ov_FY2nX_-xuCDG3nYCUClH1olt33pcT0ocmCP9GZMGSsyog/s1600/RanchMay1-037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV74jlDPbdjuMV34CL-ZtcW8eWlh_6eVmiYvsIxu-0mdyEsMghxg6f57YZbYUXzU9abmg-ru3QPMbns2CAVMx_EX4Vty2Ov_FY2nX_-xuCDG3nYCUClH1olt33pcT0ocmCP9GZMGSsyog/s400/RanchMay1-037.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And on our way, we passed by another typical sight you see when you're out tooling around the town. Farming!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUtp9yiC0NoLuywCNqw1pSGOS4rm0kB_88ZNz8oqn85itxbaa0VxHUt73J8LAzApzfIY2zpy-VYAUd2QOsw1yEaaQgJ5eYOtc4CLnNGegnVeJLZxseriAIbSg24K3n7F7QbVVYFfCFAYc/s1600/RanchMay1-039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUtp9yiC0NoLuywCNqw1pSGOS4rm0kB_88ZNz8oqn85itxbaa0VxHUt73J8LAzApzfIY2zpy-VYAUd2QOsw1yEaaQgJ5eYOtc4CLnNGegnVeJLZxseriAIbSg24K3n7F7QbVVYFfCFAYc/s400/RanchMay1-039.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
So now you've gotten a mini, non-comprehensive tour of the ranch. And I hope you've been paying attention because we will now have a quiz. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxRk_9NMqTsqTGRvighyphenhyphen1ap3jDd4so8IoHZICmnJ9YrnRI3l0UhZI_5SS-fYTuWJrkeWD_vn2xJdI3P-bBIXhhJ8HCmpN04gMNg4K7YBbHdLmTQslFEi6ww574vDn9oibWJbqHzEXPYQ/s1600/RanchMay1-041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxRk_9NMqTsqTGRvighyphenhyphen1ap3jDd4so8IoHZICmnJ9YrnRI3l0UhZI_5SS-fYTuWJrkeWD_vn2xJdI3P-bBIXhhJ8HCmpN04gMNg4K7YBbHdLmTQslFEi6ww574vDn9oibWJbqHzEXPYQ/s400/RanchMay1-041.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
What's the difference between this one:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLZHTXAWb-0DDk4VSyW7Fwel01zi2iEuSUE9fBbu_K0Hp0UjN5xZnDml4s9qylGwPpsBhnGyxflTzzrI4uXkyfyED5G4dCg2ybWGQ-Jp9C8_WqTP_jO8xCHSXWPEYfJzfvURT16C9PVE/s1600/RanchMay1-031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLZHTXAWb-0DDk4VSyW7Fwel01zi2iEuSUE9fBbu_K0Hp0UjN5xZnDml4s9qylGwPpsBhnGyxflTzzrI4uXkyfyED5G4dCg2ybWGQ-Jp9C8_WqTP_jO8xCHSXWPEYfJzfvURT16C9PVE/s400/RanchMay1-031.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
(Looking good)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJZA3vYjYbRIvjXV4BgeIJg2Hj6mHsV1Ch7VZg88R_npdkaaUP8yTp8EvfE___8FGNMjQsKWdbRxjrkhmBd0jzbf2H_m-yJjXEhElyn6qHp_gUZliK9LpU36xG1f2Pj5B_i2BTsYLWmg/s1600/RanchMay1-032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJZA3vYjYbRIvjXV4BgeIJg2Hj6mHsV1Ch7VZg88R_npdkaaUP8yTp8EvfE___8FGNMjQsKWdbRxjrkhmBd0jzbf2H_m-yJjXEhElyn6qHp_gUZliK9LpU36xG1f2Pj5B_i2BTsYLWmg/s400/RanchMay1-032.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And this one:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIN1fN30iXyryX1CS53_hyphenhyphen4DLLWlWm3PGTfWX2KESVX2PjKu8JpqfySxdaCMHDcZsjC-2ObhiDu-2bugYqv-KnAlooBddMseWO7EAxGn1nVj4akb3Lyqp_nHrE-m2hda2IdLhMkzWMMWI/s1600/RanchMay1-047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIN1fN30iXyryX1CS53_hyphenhyphen4DLLWlWm3PGTfWX2KESVX2PjKu8JpqfySxdaCMHDcZsjC-2ObhiDu-2bugYqv-KnAlooBddMseWO7EAxGn1nVj4akb3Lyqp_nHrE-m2hda2IdLhMkzWMMWI/s400/RanchMay1-047.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
(Yikes!)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikz5iJdQT1KgZGRXq6_kyGke7P8P9pbLYgJaNRAwsE12p-rB2X5gAKkxyzjfpLnaiXK9VFYpx9sLU5lHvW6R3DA19psC5KpbZVgUVuBNd6K3Hq7lesUkzdpDZbB42Kn_LV-Iiy6WibHEk/s1600/RanchMay1-048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikz5iJdQT1KgZGRXq6_kyGke7P8P9pbLYgJaNRAwsE12p-rB2X5gAKkxyzjfpLnaiXK9VFYpx9sLU5lHvW6R3DA19psC5KpbZVgUVuBNd6K3Hq7lesUkzdpDZbB42Kn_LV-Iiy6WibHEk/s400/RanchMay1-048.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>If you know, then you're more than ranch ready.Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-41546725591788555192011-05-06T15:00:00.000-07:002011-06-01T18:11:48.083-07:0015 Days Away<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This was 8 months ago:</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/AVvXsEgVQJacQyjizyWzQAWOJQEVkkYY5F9QMgv6f4Z5dxtRCXG-fsAXKYXkAHx3PtNRQ_B20HBuvLAFxVJYvPc2xm8drbYX0OZrSfIPXKqfW2Zk8Ej92eXiglnv0XAlM0qmlBMVDGfH60obcIc/s1600/W%2526JEngagementParty-068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQJacQyjizyWzQAWOJQEVkkYY5F9QMgv6f4Z5dxtRCXG-fsAXKYXkAHx3PtNRQ_B20HBuvLAFxVJYvPc2xm8drbYX0OZrSfIPXKqfW2Zk8Ej92eXiglnv0XAlM0qmlBMVDGfH60obcIc/s400/W%2526JEngagementParty-068.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Now we are 15 days away, which means I have been:<br />
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Making wedding programs.<br />
Gluing wood chips to frames to make drink menu displays.<br />
Wondering where my paycheck has gone for the last 6 months (because it sure as hell isn’t in my bank account anymore).<br />
Visiting the Dollar Tree like a Martha Stewart crafting lunatic.<br />
Buying copious amounts of alcohol.<br />
Wondering where my paycheck has gone for the last 6 months (oh wait, I already said that… but did I mention that weddings are freaking expense?)<br />
Trying not to act like Bridezilla, even though I’m single-handedly organizing this shindig. Obsessed should not be confused with painstakingly organized, because I consider myself the latter. <br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">So if you don’t hear from me for a couple days, it’s because we’re coming into the homestretch. And my super cool, super pregnant sister came into town today! Which means I’m going to be scrutinizing the wonders of pregnancy. (It’s amazing how elastic human skin is! It’s crazy!)</div>Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4818419805207886208.post-77938666948103445862011-05-04T16:11:00.000-07:002011-05-04T16:13:00.525-07:00Mini Ranch Tour: Part IThis is by no means a comprehensive ranch tour. If I tried to take pictures of all the aspects of the ranch and upload them here on Blogger, I’d probably break the thing, and Google would give me a nasty call. So, in an effort to keep the photo overload to a minimum, I’m going to break this Mini Ranch Tour into two parts. Here’s the first part (highlights include crossing a creek!):<br />
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If you want to take a ranch tour, it’s best to find some wheels.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBiOVZL9SkbOmRM9ClJklaq9kxbwRBkzFMKqCAvPnNPV2PAmlyW4dKMJc1Sm3qIyUuKWqMyRA9aqLrdAvBQV_RkC4bR7YC8gOt17m0wWtu12OftHysAyYKzmQAqMLHcVXK-y37aVXTnk/s1600/RanchMay1-002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBiOVZL9SkbOmRM9ClJklaq9kxbwRBkzFMKqCAvPnNPV2PAmlyW4dKMJc1Sm3qIyUuKWqMyRA9aqLrdAvBQV_RkC4bR7YC8gOt17m0wWtu12OftHysAyYKzmQAqMLHcVXK-y37aVXTnk/s400/RanchMay1-002.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
It also helps to have company.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Z-PxlXUOqb1sxC4JGJ37-xj7WV8a9SHqoG6Cq7bNCJnT5LPXbgpxf6UBikc3B5COWHKCqp1RIZekuADwED_CJKlrgMQN27OUnFge7oYZWbXWWUbyUfW2VIyk40fOJdYiE8YTXQfJ298/s1600/RanchMay1-003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Z-PxlXUOqb1sxC4JGJ37-xj7WV8a9SHqoG6Cq7bNCJnT5LPXbgpxf6UBikc3B5COWHKCqp1RIZekuADwED_CJKlrgMQN27OUnFge7oYZWbXWWUbyUfW2VIyk40fOJdYiE8YTXQfJ298/s400/RanchMay1-003.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I prefer to tour with these two hooligans. They're pretty good company. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeARFFBHZAPYY_K9Mk4pYp7l_Wd-hmMSCN-mMvt6tl_AmPj0yT1F6U6jJ09eNxiKBOUPaQ0fIGAtotYNuxH40Uph4mrhHchWIzMEYt4W6cukDm0xSvEbacOY3QsRKMSOWbSmwHqzHcn0M/s1600/RanchMay1-004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeARFFBHZAPYY_K9Mk4pYp7l_Wd-hmMSCN-mMvt6tl_AmPj0yT1F6U6jJ09eNxiKBOUPaQ0fIGAtotYNuxH40Uph4mrhHchWIzMEYt4W6cukDm0xSvEbacOY3QsRKMSOWbSmwHqzHcn0M/s400/RanchMay1-004.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
If you're in the backseat, try not to notice the obvious things, like your fiancé's head blocking your view.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSNf59IG9lPQ3Y6zIelknHl5hsXZE2ZX1Kc_lLyvx4OK-AX88vBpbDf-fcmAmw0EyNsxwhhZYT36rwPnhdNuQn2d6JbDEILnei7CG7fgTRllqNs2pXRIXsAvAfXHv3drvl7xwoedPemg/s1600/RanchMay1-005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSNf59IG9lPQ3Y6zIelknHl5hsXZE2ZX1Kc_lLyvx4OK-AX88vBpbDf-fcmAmw0EyNsxwhhZYT36rwPnhdNuQn2d6JbDEILnei7CG7fgTRllqNs2pXRIXsAvAfXHv3drvl7xwoedPemg/s400/RanchMay1-005.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Look around and enjoy the natural things, like the cows,<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-6YUbQ5r-4uM-FTg_sbUp6A38eIpvPz31IKM3cM1NyttQBwH91X8ijDsvnAiA2An_eraMjlSydOT8i3npbB_dhpc-X4vAEMmV6saVpliG77E-2Nmkod9ekUS6z7k8gsVgntXzbphkFE/s1600/RanchMay1-006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-6YUbQ5r-4uM-FTg_sbUp6A38eIpvPz31IKM3cM1NyttQBwH91X8ijDsvnAiA2An_eraMjlSydOT8i3npbB_dhpc-X4vAEMmV6saVpliG77E-2Nmkod9ekUS6z7k8gsVgntXzbphkFE/s400/RanchMay1-006.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
the grass, <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9QrDLoq6WNyyPCjl-WoaaqYmkNfoWd3rGVwtkXk2Iab2YargH17Qfxuc9YWdVkx90qPQTL5KPHMV6f3l1IZZK0mCBBbEVPXvPrcmM0Dh2uaV6CQLIfycJh5iRZrqVGlC_iPgy8B-_vlQ/s1600/RanchMay1-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9QrDLoq6WNyyPCjl-WoaaqYmkNfoWd3rGVwtkXk2Iab2YargH17Qfxuc9YWdVkx90qPQTL5KPHMV6f3l1IZZK0mCBBbEVPXvPrcmM0Dh2uaV6CQLIfycJh5iRZrqVGlC_iPgy8B-_vlQ/s400/RanchMay1-007.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
and the dirt. Ok, maybe this is not the most exciting part of the tour, but you have to look beyond the obvious and embrace the rawness of nature on the ranch. That is, of course, if you also consider cow poop to be part of "raw" nature. At least it's organic…<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheypHYM6bYCrr6wm1B7FBZw149z1KaOLmLMLO73D-qsI_qVWzBPjwFgRipL_iCEXgO0kXvNbqhMAFe8tC4yMTJZ1k5o03AstUmV9CNsVZozMCS4Rg7eBsG7IuXoaycnjwzXQguYZY7E_o/s1600/RanchMay1-008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheypHYM6bYCrr6wm1B7FBZw149z1KaOLmLMLO73D-qsI_qVWzBPjwFgRipL_iCEXgO0kXvNbqhMAFe8tC4yMTJZ1k5o03AstUmV9CNsVZozMCS4Rg7eBsG7IuXoaycnjwzXQguYZY7E_o/s400/RanchMay1-008.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And look! We're topping out at 32 mph. Yeehaw!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Cs1H0jQeUnyzIF-ldizODbypA-ZjGM6GQmjLEgBuKzq_FjiVgj2e9NN2RX2W_kVvc2TPOaQ5QuE_7mZ_NWQQY3YhWiOzzE-jpNLTO6Dz-J9nf_JWSDmgwNR3-BbRGQH05MqYngieO84/s1600/RanchMay1-009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Cs1H0jQeUnyzIF-ldizODbypA-ZjGM6GQmjLEgBuKzq_FjiVgj2e9NN2RX2W_kVvc2TPOaQ5QuE_7mZ_NWQQY3YhWiOzzE-jpNLTO6Dz-J9nf_JWSDmgwNR3-BbRGQH05MqYngieO84/s400/RanchMay1-009.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
You can also notice your shadow, like I did. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCYIJ8h-RuJ-C6Wl4UzndIUXv8nb5vynHorCNrEcsPqV8TGYF-uim2dOpkTMYRRleN0KI5E5DsqTShwKFK4grGdiVA_Ql-yVho4EQzb-ay4_pb3kHmYBFCNZ_yvE99zmsj4w6xYG7D9MI/s1600/RanchMay1-010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCYIJ8h-RuJ-C6Wl4UzndIUXv8nb5vynHorCNrEcsPqV8TGYF-uim2dOpkTMYRRleN0KI5E5DsqTShwKFK4grGdiVA_Ql-yVho4EQzb-ay4_pb3kHmYBFCNZ_yvE99zmsj4w6xYG7D9MI/s400/RanchMay1-010.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We're now approaching Bear Creek.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgle14XHgvDJc17yzGYugQtZxTSXL1dRUBtAF9ZnGAd6uHzziOBhtNyeTGyVUUTEFIjcQh60FK3LT0SstunaxVxPrYLzhVxqFOz70yFqjOEpfjjeOfy6xY3QlecwCbNQO7jzlkDJmi64HI/s1600/RanchMay1-013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgle14XHgvDJc17yzGYugQtZxTSXL1dRUBtAF9ZnGAd6uHzziOBhtNyeTGyVUUTEFIjcQh60FK3LT0SstunaxVxPrYLzhVxqFOz70yFqjOEpfjjeOfy6xY3QlecwCbNQO7jzlkDJmi64HI/s400/RanchMay1-013.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Doesn't the water look inviting?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgKtWHObY6lp5hDvK0QllyBFhy7dMUKTvy32rkyJGsVUXaCXemrr_kGVw6WmQ5ApaAzBB2k9hibfQeG33QIdaYrfYtrJ-ry6Kj5N6lJa1PLFZ5vpYm5iIJ8deUVWT3zfU_aad4HtaqNs/s1600/RanchMay1-014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgKtWHObY6lp5hDvK0QllyBFhy7dMUKTvy32rkyJGsVUXaCXemrr_kGVw6WmQ5ApaAzBB2k9hibfQeG33QIdaYrfYtrJ-ry6Kj5N6lJa1PLFZ5vpYm5iIJ8deUVWT3zfU_aad4HtaqNs/s400/RanchMay1-014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
How about we take a dip?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvoKAduZXhtBggUF4MXCLOYXSLxzNtVV_zCQ4ztZh3XXnl9c9RmS7ce8iBqgtH3JZd5LNWXsQtFAku9F_pQXrkaJkWzVpX0-Qbmkd_O0uK1mvHzE4Ge1eSFjNbqwyYYs-XEUOLesJUv8/s1600/RanchMay1-015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvoKAduZXhtBggUF4MXCLOYXSLxzNtVV_zCQ4ztZh3XXnl9c9RmS7ce8iBqgtH3JZd5LNWXsQtFAku9F_pQXrkaJkWzVpX0-Qbmkd_O0uK1mvHzE4Ge1eSFjNbqwyYYs-XEUOLesJUv8/s400/RanchMay1-015.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Pull your feet up! It's deep! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4M3XuC47lKqb0kMYgB3lnoaRSG5RApbSRiYpvoCVr0z6i-rDFtsCT4HHaLO5DGYcAnKglgfN9bH8wFTwlbQ-4fRBZPqiRiTT-nctB8SG6BTjvo_Q9X5Oz_K2rR5WQ4R5N95HwemUiCdQ/s1600/RanchMay1-016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4M3XuC47lKqb0kMYgB3lnoaRSG5RApbSRiYpvoCVr0z6i-rDFtsCT4HHaLO5DGYcAnKglgfN9bH8wFTwlbQ-4fRBZPqiRiTT-nctB8SG6BTjvo_Q9X5Oz_K2rR5WQ4R5N95HwemUiCdQ/s400/RanchMay1-016.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Or if you're like me, leave them down and wash off all the dirt and manure that's been accumulating on your flip flops.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr6fghfaqiwRcXrdNYThSv27xXFXu4xyIE8nY017cgBw6a9euZwT3DO1iKwbpfcilF9P6rCzM1vGPg3yEol9v9YBqqQporeQCOTkNY7yYeE_3G-uUxpwKlN2JS-KHNM65ZJlLqPRGQ7xs/s1600/RanchMay1-017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr6fghfaqiwRcXrdNYThSv27xXFXu4xyIE8nY017cgBw6a9euZwT3DO1iKwbpfcilF9P6rCzM1vGPg3yEol9v9YBqqQporeQCOTkNY7yYeE_3G-uUxpwKlN2JS-KHNM65ZJlLqPRGQ7xs/s400/RanchMay1-017.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
It's a long way across on a 4-wheeler…<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX06kbxLARve2EIFYZc2fKiIR2r_VPhvdruRqFvEhU-IoD_yDPYezdjnO49GhATkhFF0keRCOh8_3zkxrd7t6sNz1Nsn6uOKyHBFZSc8IxZEoNwCrblpBX2tfDoNctCGCUp8qFlI0giag/s1600/RanchMay1-018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX06kbxLARve2EIFYZc2fKiIR2r_VPhvdruRqFvEhU-IoD_yDPYezdjnO49GhATkhFF0keRCOh8_3zkxrd7t6sNz1Nsn6uOKyHBFZSc8IxZEoNwCrblpBX2tfDoNctCGCUp8qFlI0giag/s400/RanchMay1-018.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
But...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD18HWP9nMxA2FDiB572bYhvTBUEJSJD9AhVMRChOqZC3BawU_ho7CV59NYK7eJEnyGxWjYhs08HYuIhNv8P3eMJEuOyR1yRIaM9UICgnTls849xW1g6AWtOgntqVzpltS8xjakga9JzM/s1600/RanchMay1-019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD18HWP9nMxA2FDiB572bYhvTBUEJSJD9AhVMRChOqZC3BawU_ho7CV59NYK7eJEnyGxWjYhs08HYuIhNv8P3eMJEuOyR1yRIaM9UICgnTls849xW1g6AWtOgntqVzpltS8xjakga9JzM/s400/RanchMay1-019.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We made it!<br />
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Next up, Mini Ranch Tour: Part 2. I promise there will be more cows, grass and dirt!Jocelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14595805352404920990noreply@blogger.com0