tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59442572104870421912024-03-13T08:12:52.788-04:00in the betweenrunning, working out, designing, lifeemilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.comBlogger387125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-52231032419480227372015-03-06T19:30:00.000-05:002015-03-06T19:30:11.362-05:00Friday Diatribe-ing<br />
First, I'd like to thank <a href="http://www.itsadoglickbabyworld.com/">Kara</a> for the opportunity to rant about this, which I am now reposting, mainly because it's that ridiculous. Now, I take public transportation to work because it <i>only</i> costs me $250 a year to park and be driven to work rather than $600+ to <i>maybe </i>be able to park at work instead. It's bullshit, but I digress.<br />
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There are many issues with this plan, the least of which being that it's inconvenient and it makes me motion sick on a daily basis.<br />
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This morning, UNC closed offices until 10am (due to black ice), meaning every single employee and student tried to get on the buses and to work/school at the same exact time and the Chapel Hill transit service never thinks to run extra buses to make up for it, so I ended up with some large woman who was forced to stand up in the aisle because the bus was overcrowded, shoving her purse in my face instead of just stowing it on the floor between her legs like everyone else and it took a whole hour for the full, overheated (because the drivers always just turn the heat on high, which does wonders for car sickness) bus/clown car to drive me to work (four miles). If I had known, I would have worn running shoes and walked to work the much shorter route, in less time.<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0CsQAIM7tNA/VPo7llDWUjI/AAAAAAAAFtI/p6hPSp_tdz4/s1600/Getting-real-sick-of-your-shit-car---animal-meme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0CsQAIM7tNA/VPo7llDWUjI/AAAAAAAAFtI/p6hPSp_tdz4/s1600/Getting-real-sick-of-your-shit-car---animal-meme.jpg" height="400" width="307" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The meme that will never get old.</td></tr>
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My next kvetch? Something I've no doubt discussed ad nauseam, and that is doctor copays.</div>
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The whole reason I gave up trying to find a diagnose for (let alone seek treatment for) the chronic vertigo issues four years ago was because of money. The costs just seem so arbitrary. For one "specialist" I'm charged $60 while it's $70 for another. One charges for every appointment, even if it's just a 10-minute follow-up discussion, while the other waives the copay for follow-ups. I'm a state employee, man. Have mercy!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Logic? That's SO last year.</td></tr>
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I had a visit with the <a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/otologist">Otologist</a> today. I discussed <i>all the dizzy happenings</i> with the MA and then again with the nurse practitioner. I cannot explain to you how sick I am of having to repeat myself or of having people look in my ears. I mean, it's way less obnoxious than perhaps having multiple people take a look inside some <i>other</i> orifices. Maybe I should count myself lucky.</div>
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I have two more tests coming at me in my near future: SOT (sensory organization test) and ECOG (electrocochleography). One of them isn't covered by insurance. </div>
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That said, having to ridiculously alter my workouts because I can't run, lest I fall over, is becoming increasingly maddening. I have a half marathon in a little over a week and that thought, currently, makes me want to curl up in a corner and bang my head against the wall. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">...or something like that.</td></tr>
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I don't know about you, but here it's officially wine-o-clock.</div>
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<b>Any rants/kvetches/general complaints to share?</b></div>
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emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-9729452208799963182015-03-02T15:29:00.000-05:002015-03-02T15:29:27.446-05:00All the nopeOn today's edition of What the Hell is Happening in My Head, we bring you the results of Emily's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Videonystagmography">Videonystagmography</a>. (Don't worry, the saga doesn't end here).<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QMJrIJ4lPKc/VPS7n4R6-AI/AAAAAAAAFq8/b1PGAsskRi8/s1600/IMG_0675.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QMJrIJ4lPKc/VPS7n4R6-AI/AAAAAAAAFq8/b1PGAsskRi8/s1600/IMG_0675.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The smile is fake. The style is very real.</td></tr>
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To say that this is one of the more strange things to happen to me at a doctor's office is quite an understatement, although I view any doctor's appointment where I don't have to remove my clothes to be a win.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Because going to the neurologist isn't creepy enough</td></tr>
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To make a long story short, this test involved wearing these super snazzy infrared goggles and undergoing the following:</div>
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<li>Keeping my head still and following Mister Potato Head on a TV screen with only my eyes while he moved all over the screen. That sneaky little sneakster.</li>
<li>Lying down, sitting up, keeping my head at certain angles</li>
<li>Having cold and then warm air shot into each ear for a minute at a time </li>
<li>Feeling like I was floating all over the place</li>
<li>Lots of questions</li>
<li>Talking about dogs (this was just a bonus of having an audiologist whose dog has his own Instagram account)</li>
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The result? I have a 30% impairment of the right peripheral vestibular pathway (a weak Vestibulocochlear nerve in the right ear). So, clear as mud.<br />
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I've been doing a lot of research and I don't really understand it any more than when I first heard the diagnosis. The next step is I get to go see an Otologist. </div>
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Every time I have an appointment, I think "oh good, I'll finally get answers <i>today! </i>And then...all the nope. Someday.</div>
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Someday.</div>
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emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-47193650870112807692015-02-23T13:59:00.000-05:002015-02-23T13:59:45.871-05:00Having my brain examinedRemember that race I registered for that takes place in three weeks? I've had the cold from hell for the last two weeks and have basically just been struggling to breathe ever since. We've also had lots of crappy, cold weather and ice falling from the sky.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">OVER IT!</td></tr>
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That said, my workouts the last couple weeks have consisted of coughing and blowing my nose and coughing...and blowing my nose. So you know, to say that I won't be completely ready for this race is an understatement. Luckily it's also a full marathon, so I have plenty of time to finish.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iKEAWAHUarY/VOtlDsQ0HCI/AAAAAAAAFp8/0mZJC_DLr1U/s1600/Forced-Smile.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iKEAWAHUarY/VOtlDsQ0HCI/AAAAAAAAFp8/0mZJC_DLr1U/s1600/Forced-Smile.gif" height="153" width="320" /></a></div>
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I planned to get back into it Saturday and do a two mile treadmill run to remind my body what this whole running thing is. I got on the god forsaken machine and almost instantly the dizziness hit. Yes, <a href="http://inthebetweeneh.blogspot.com/2014/01/sprinkles-cure-for-everything.html">THAT</a> is still happening and it makes it really hard to run both straight and upright.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lnkBfJv_MfA/VOtvWhoZhYI/AAAAAAAAFqc/JimsEvvze7Q/s1600/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lnkBfJv_MfA/VOtvWhoZhYI/AAAAAAAAFqc/JimsEvvze7Q/s1600/giphy.gif" height="178" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Except way less fun-ny.</td></tr>
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After being wrongfully diagnosed with <a href="http://inthebetweeneh.blogspot.com/2011/10/say-that-ten-times-fast.html">Pastulous Eustachian Tube</a> back in 2011 (oh God, it's really been four years!) I was forced to give up trying to find the cause/cure due to lack of funds, especially after my MRI and hearing tests didn't show anything amiss. Endless guessing at my expense just isn't my thing. I recently switched to a primary care physician closer to my house who has filled me with a newfound need to get this shit found out! </div>
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Last week I had a visit with a neurologist. Talk about an amazing/interesting/enlightening experience. Dude knew his stuff, treated me like I was an intelligent being, and he wasn't too awful on the eyes. So far in this train wreck experience, I've felt like the doctors were literally guessing, with absolutely no confidence behind their "diagnoses." This time, though, I have a newfound hope.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Mmm..veiny.</td></tr>
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In case you're like me and have a need to Google search ALL THE THINGS, I'm going in later this week for videonystagmography (VNG). Enjoy, fellow nerds! Results to come.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">By far the best image found by Googling videonystagmography</td></tr>
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emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-21703711409985055562015-01-06T12:39:00.000-05:002015-01-06T12:39:08.217-05:00Podcast virgin no moreThis morning I discovered something I probably should have discovered a while ago: podcasts. I knew they existed and were popular, but not necessarily what exactly they were. It turns out it's like listening to chapters of a book on tape...for free. The Netflix of books on tape, if you will.<br />
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I'm a big fan of things like <i>Investigation Discovery, </i>crime "whodunnit" shows, and horror movies. I'm fairly surprised that, based on my Netflix and Google search histories, I haven't yet been investigated by the authorities. It's just all so fascinating!<br />
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I'd been hearing about this podcast called Serial and wondering what the big deal was. When I found out it's a nonfiction murder mystery, I already knew what had to be done.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">My bus rides to-and-from work are about to get interesting.</td></tr>
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So far it's pretty enthralling. The only thing that's hanging me up, though, is that some of the information is quite detailed (the crime scene, for instance), and I can't <i>see</i> it! Hel<i>LO</i>...visual learner over here. I even Googled images of the scene.<br />
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I'm also excited to announce that it's 50 degrees and sunny here in central NC, while just south of DC where I moved from seven years ago?<br />
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It's not a ton of snow, but as anyone in northern VA knows, even the smallest snowfall means PANIC! and everyone forgets how to drive. To not have to be dealing with that today? Priceless.</div>
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<b>Are there any other podcasts I should check out?</b></div>
emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-22225412817898110232015-01-05T15:56:00.001-05:002015-01-05T15:56:41.482-05:00Back to the running postsThis weekend I was browsing iTunes and came across a Greatest Hits jackpot.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">$5.99 for 16 songs. Hell to the yeah.</td></tr>
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It looks like for today's run I'm takin it back to high school (and maybe even middle school?).<br />
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Speaking of running, training has been interesting. Since we're focusing on getting faster, I've been running faster than normal 3- and 4- milers exclusively so far, beginning runs with agility work, and finishing them with stretching and ab work. For example, 8 25-second planks with 10-second breaks in between. I just have to keep telling myself that it's making me better.<br />
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The cracks and pops I experience in my body after getting out of bed in the morning are epic.<br />
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Since I'm going for a certain pace per mile when I'm running, I've decided to dig out and use my Garmin 305 again. Runkeeper's GPS has been gypping me probably a tenth of a mile for each actual mile that I run and that's just not gonna work. I realized that the 305 isn't bluetooth compatible and I don't own a personal computer, so uploading workouts to track my progress becomes slightly obnoxious. And so, I've been pining over the Garmin 220. It's not even almost in the budget. I've been having an internal struggle of want vs. need. Being a responsible adult is ruining my LIFE!<br />
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Drama queen? What's that mean?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">...and it's purple!</td></tr>
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<b>What running/biking/swimming/general distance tracking app do you use? Have you ever had an issue with it not crediting you with all your mileage?</b><br />
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I'm considering blaming RunKeeper for my not reaching my distance goal for 2014 by 5 miles. But then I decided instead to just not set one for 2015 and move on. Problem solved!</div>
emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-172030288308235592015-01-02T13:31:00.000-05:002015-01-02T13:31:20.589-05:0099%So, nagging question: Wouldn't it make more sense to refer to birth control as conception block?<br />
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This deep, burning question has been plaguing me for weeks. My brain. I can't.<br />
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In other news, spring race training has once again begun. I've decided, for financial and sanity reasons, that two half marathons a year—one in the spring and one in the fall—is a good plan for me.<br />
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Because my spring race is on a trail that used to be a railroad, it's pretty flat; a good chance to attempt a PR once again. I had originally planned on creating a plan from different plans (read: winging it) as I usually do, but then I was asked by a friend if I wanted to try to train for a PR. He's super smart and has coached track and, well, I've got nothing to lose. You know what Einstein said about "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result," right? So, my training is officially in his hands (not Einstein's).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Einstein wore tidy whities.</td></tr>
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One thing I really need to work on (and I never thought I'd say this) is my nutrition during training. Specifically, eating enough calories and protein. Apparently a couple servings of peanut butter a day isn't enough protein. The world is a cruel place!<br />
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I love to eat. Food is my BFF. And yet, apparently, I've been doing it an injustice by not consuming enough of it. I'd make that my resolution for the new year, but I don't do resolutions because what happens looks a little something like this:<br />
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<b>Did you make a resolution for 2014 that you stuck to?</b></div>
emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-42090890212837830302014-05-19T13:55:00.000-04:002014-05-19T13:55:30.649-04:00Bandwagon jumperFirst off, I would like to report that I not only jumped on the Game of Thrones (show) bandwagon, but I am now caught all the way up! I never thought I'd ever watch it, mainly because I don't have cable, but then my Sister-in-law hooked me up with her HBO password and it was a 2-week-long love affair.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">...know what I'm sayin?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Just in case you didn't know what I was sayin.</td></tr>
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Normally I'd read the books before watching the movie (or TV show as it were), but I fear that would just confuse me even more and I think I'm finally understanding most of the storylines...but I'm probably wrong about that.<br />
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I did learn one very important thing, though. When the time comes, I think I'll just elope.<br />
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Of course, now that I'm caught up and will have to wait week-to-week to catch the next episode just like everyone else, I'm looking for another series to get hooked on. Suggestions are welcomed.<br />
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In other news, I spent yesterday at my best friend's house, playing with her adorable children.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">I'm kid friendly.</td></tr>
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I may need to make borrowing her kids my new hobby. I mean...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Waking up to this face every day? Umm..ok!</td></tr>
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Back at the ranch (aka-my humble abode), I dog-sat Rocco this weekend.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">'Sup?</td></tr>
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I've watched him several times before at my house and we're buds, but it always astounds me how such an adorable creature can be so stubborn. I take him on a walk and he's all "look at me. I'm prancing like a princess," and I'm all like, "Dude, I have to walk you two separately. I'm late for work. Just find a place to poop. I'll tell you you're pretty later." To which he responds by staring at the neighbor hoping his mind powers (and good looks, obviously) will entice him to come over and pet him. And when it doesn't, he lifts his leg and pees...for like three minutes straight...in the neighbor's yard right in front of him. I love you, buddy, but when you're gone, I still have to live here!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">I make sure the neighbors stay away, Aunt Emily.</td></tr>
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My house has been well-guarded this weekend, for sure.<br />
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In closing, I just couldn't resist...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bov8cMi7o24/U3pE1Xxb7KI/AAAAAAAAFko/saUqpMPEcvw/s1600/1374757344-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bov8cMi7o24/U3pE1Xxb7KI/AAAAAAAAFko/saUqpMPEcvw/s1600/1374757344-14.jpg" height="640" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Sorry, Theon.</td></tr>
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<br />emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-33137843352829358932014-05-14T13:36:00.002-04:002014-05-14T13:36:23.276-04:00Crate news!You guys, we have a graduate!<br />
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Pippi has been roaming the house free of her crate for a week. She still looks confused when I leave the house without locking her up, and when I come home she waits in my room for me to come say hi and rub her belly. I kind of like this new arrangement. She's always exhausted in the evening. I attribute this to her probably feeling the need to "patrol" while I'm at work during the day. Her life is HARD, you guys.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">If only she wore clothes...</td></tr>
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<br />emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-9689145608899413212014-04-30T15:03:00.000-04:002014-04-30T15:03:44.048-04:00I'm troubledIt's been quite a while since I couldn't fall asleep at night because my brain was full of ridiculous thoughts. That is, until last night. It got so ridiculous that I had to write it all down so that I could put it to rest (and <i>get</i> some rest).<br />
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Last week I lost one of the rubber ear pieces for my earbuds and replaced it with one that was slightly different and then I had different sound in each ear. That just wouldn't do. I had some other replacement ear pieces and also an extra pair of earbuds <i>somewhere. </i>But where did I put them? Of course, this didn't occur to me until after I'd already gone to bed. I couldn't have thought about it earlier in the evening. That would have been too convenient. After going through the many possible places they could be, I couldn't let it go. I <i>had </i>to get out of bed and check if they were there. They weren't in any of those places. And so, the earbud thoughts went on.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">I was thinking of this scene over and over. Thanks to the internet, now you can too!</td></tr>
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And, as thoughts tend to do, the earbuds thoughts somehow morphed into the "hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil" saying. What about smell no evil and touch/feel no evil?! THESE ARE THE QUESTIONS THAT KEEP ME AWAKE AT NIGHT!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">But can't you SMELL that?!</td></tr>
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And then, I started thinking about trash bags. Logical segue, right? This past weekend I was at my brother and SIL's house and my brother had just taken out the trash, so I grabbed another trash bag. To my amazement, they smelled like <i>heaven</i>. They were a special Febreze-scented variety and WHY HAVE I NEVER HEARD OF THESE? I need these in my life. Who doesn't want to pretend their trash don't stink?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Shield that odor.</td></tr>
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The last thing I remember thinking about while falling asleep is my freaking car registration/tax bill. I have several neighbors whose car registrations expired years ago and they're driving around with expired tags and I'm losing sleep over the fact that I have a $150 bill for car registration and taxes that I have to budget for in the next month. I got really close to convincing myself that I'm going to turn all my neighbors in to the police before it was clear I needed to find a way to just go to sleep already.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">I'd hire someone to read this to me but laughing isn't conducive to sleep.</td></tr>
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I actually had to take out my phone and add a "note" with all this in it so that it was documented somewhere other than in my head.<br />
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I'm very troubled.emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-77333774392373119912014-04-11T09:11:00.001-04:002014-04-11T09:11:59.092-04:00Four things Friday<br />
<b>ONE</b><div>
Have you ever had one of those runs where you would give anything if only a porta-potty would magically appear at this moment? This was my run yesterday. Too much information? I think I've found a huge flaw to the whole living alone thing. No one to come..."rescue" me in such situations. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Aptly named, I'd say.</td></tr>
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<b>TWO</b></div>
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Last night Pippi needed a bath. I'll spare you the details of why. One thing I don't understand is why dogs hate baths so much (or at least MY dog). I mean, it's like a free full-body massage! I basically have to try to trick her into the bathroom or drag her in there. She looks dejected during the entire bath and then as soon as it's over and I get out the towel, it's <b>butt-tuck-run-crazy</b> time. What IS that?! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The dog version of "talking back?"</td></tr>
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<b>THREE</b></div>
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I moved to North Carolina six years ago today! It doesn't even seem possible. I had no job and moved in with my brother and sister-in-law. Two years ago at this time, I had signed a contract on a house. So many things have changed!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Back when it was almost mine.</td></tr>
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<b>FOUR</b></div>
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This. Because...Friday!</div>
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<b>Have you ever had to be rescued on a run?</b></div>
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<b>Does your dog enjoy baths? </b>I've heard of this phenomenon, but never met a bath-loving dog.</div>
emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-61793115476236729582014-04-04T15:47:00.000-04:002014-04-04T15:52:29.199-04:00At least she's cutePippi knows many words: Outside, hungry, dinner, shake, cat...to name a few.<br />
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And she now knows the word squirrel.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QF_xI7OjK7M/Uz8J2S6ZN3I/AAAAAAAAFhE/KSuLY84ToHw/s1600/2014-03-30+08.56.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QF_xI7OjK7M/Uz8J2S6ZN3I/AAAAAAAAFhE/KSuLY84ToHw/s1600/2014-03-30+08.56.22.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Ever since I got the bird (slash squirrel) feeder, she now spends only <i>half</i> her time being connected to me with super glue. The other night while I was lazing on the couch she wasn't in the same room so I went looking for her, afraid the silence meant something less-than-awesome was going down. Nope, she was just creepily spying on a squirrel, her nosed pressed up against the glass.<br />
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I've concluded the only time her attention span is longer than about 30 seconds is when there's a cat or a squirrel in the vicinity. She'll stand there just staring as long as one is around. As soon as that squirrel is done eating and hops away, she jumps at the glass and barks. Because that's how you get the object of your affection to stay a while. Didn't you know?<br />
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Because who wants to watch birds eat when you can STARE AT A SQUIRREL OH MY GOD!emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-45584631890596954282014-04-01T13:59:00.002-04:002014-04-01T14:00:47.781-04:00WebEmilyDIf you're like me, whenever something is happening with your body that isn't normal, you retreat into self-diagnosis mode. You also know that one of the best <i>and</i> worst websites of all time is webMD.<br />
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Going back a couple of weeks to <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5944257210487042191#editor/target=post;postID=3163502254851416240;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=2;src=postname">that recurring foot issue</a> I have during long-distance runs, as a cheapskate self-diagnoser, I did my due diligence. After much research and discussion with my PT Technician friend, I've decided I may have <a href="http://orthoinfo.aaos.org/topic.cfm?topic=A00164">sesamoiditis</a>. </div>
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I don't know that it's all related, but the pain from the bulging disc in my back always occurs on the right side of my body and I've always had foot issues with my left foot. I know. I'm a freaking genius. </div>
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To get relief from this strange...condition, in lieu of just not running (been there, done that), I've purchased a couple of these bad boys:</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ct5ftdMNZmk/Uzr1od30f-I/AAAAAAAAFgQ/Cto9fUPKGRE/s1600/dancers-sesamoid-pad-felt-1-4inch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ct5ftdMNZmk/Uzr1od30f-I/AAAAAAAAFgQ/Cto9fUPKGRE/s1600/dancers-sesamoid-pad-felt-1-4inch.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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The idea is to take pressure off the sesamoid bones while running. I'll be testing them out today....along with not wearing heels for a while. If this all helps, I may need to get rid of the heels forever (DARN!)</div>
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Now that the foot mystery is diagnosed, a new issue has emerged. Two weeks ago I had two chipped teeth/fillings repaired. It was the normal process of numbing, drilling, etc. Blah blah. But ever since, I've had a consistent dull ache in my jaw and a never....ending.....headaaaaache. </div>
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One thing that happened during the "procedure" that I didn't recognize as strange until later on is that, when the dentist did the numbing, immediately I noticed my heart started racing and I was shaking. I chalked it up to being nervous and not having enough to eat for breakfast. A couple hours later at work, I CRASHED big time. My mom told me later that sometimes when the dentist is injecting the numbing...stuff, they hit a blood vessel. And that's bad. It makes your heart race and then you crash. Well then, mystery #2 solved.</div>
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I understand now what Jason Statham went through. Except, you know, I'm not armed with weapons and handsome good looks. Oh, and his face wasn't numb.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y9Drz45fTTs/Uzr9PBXkjJI/AAAAAAAAFg0/IIPtbwVVME8/s1600/crank_ver5_xlg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y9Drz45fTTs/Uzr9PBXkjJI/AAAAAAAAFg0/IIPtbwVVME8/s1600/crank_ver5_xlg.jpg" height="400" width="270" /></a></div>
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Have you ever had a strange ailment you successfully diagnosed using the internetz? </div>
emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-8624218933268416942014-03-25T13:48:00.002-04:002014-03-25T13:48:44.212-04:00Neighbor Shaming<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">AMIRIGHT?!</td></tr>
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So, remember when this happened?<br />
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So I got that fixed. And then this happened?</div>
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Well, I haven't been able to replace that yet and this goes and happens:</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-66nEWisIZ1o/UzGwf2l8wtI/AAAAAAAAFfA/D3sZjiD1wUQ/s1600/2014-03-23+18.48.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-66nEWisIZ1o/UzGwf2l8wtI/AAAAAAAAFfA/D3sZjiD1wUQ/s1600/2014-03-23+18.48.15.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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As luck would have it, you can't buy <i>only</i> the rear window. You can either buy all three soft windows as a set or you have to invest in an entirely new top + windows...for $500. </div>
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If things really do happen in threes, I <i>should</i> be good for a while...at least in the broken car parts department. Unless, of course, I just jinxed myself by saying that. It would be so nice if my guardian angel would come back and do her job.</div>
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Having all these things in disarray is hurting my nerves. Driving around with a duct-taped back window makes me feel like I should be living in a different neighborhood...where my neighbors have couches on their front lawns and walk around in their underwear. Last week my American flag in front of my house ripped and I couldn't get it down so it stayed like that for about four days. I was <a href="http://neighborshame.com/category/neighbors/"><i>that</i> neighbor</a>. Thankfully, I've since replaced the flag AND installed a bird feeder in the backyard. Getting on karma's good side and what-not.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Maybe this will keep Pippi entertained during the day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Really, Mom? Most boring show ever.</td></tr>
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Have you ever done something that made you feel like an unfit neighbor?</div>
emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-31635022548514162402014-03-17T11:06:00.000-04:002014-03-17T11:10:06.554-04:00Quintiles Wrightsville Beach Half marathonThe more races I run, the less opposed to ice baths I become.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">This looks so dreamy right now. </td></tr>
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Yesterday I ran my fifth half marathon: the <a href="http://www.wrightsvillebeachmarathon.com/">Wrightsville Beach</a> marathon in Wilmington, NC.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Not the most creative race bling ever, but it'll do.</td></tr>
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I think I've finally come to the realization that I'll never be a fast racer. It's annoying, but, uhh...aim low and you'll never be disappointed? Something like that. No, not really. Kinda.<br />
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I've also decided that I should only run beach races because, well...beach! And also, the flatness. Flat races are the cat's meow.<br />
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I started out the race feeling annoyed. For some reason I had no confidence I'd finish and I had a deep hatred for the people cheering and ringing cowbells at mile 2. It was still dark out, (the race started at 6:45am), and I don't do well with people in the mornings, especially obnoxiously loud ones. I was running with my friend, Lindsey, and I could feel I was holding back her pace, so around mile 3 I told her to please forge ahead with her bad self, and so she did. I stretched quickly and kept on going.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The only way a cowbell would have been acceptable.</td></tr>
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I was actually feeling quite good after that, for most of the race, and felt I could have done so much better had my feet not been causing me so much pain. It doesn't make sense to me why I don't have issues with them on long runs, but on race day my feet are <i>always</i> the issue! (If you want to see a picture of the awesomely disgusting blister that took over one of my toes, let me know. I can arrange a viewing).<br />
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Aside from the blister on my right foot, my left foot is the real douchebag.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Pain. SO MUCH PAIN.</td></tr>
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It hurt so bad on the ball of my foot right behind my big toe that I started over-exaggerating my heel-strike, which was making my calf tight. It was a series of unfortunate events, really.<br />
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The truly mind-boggling thing about this is that I have NO BLISTERS in this area! It just hurts like a bitch when I get about eight miles into a race and then even the slightest bump on the road or uneven pavement sends shooting pain through the area. <b>Any thoughts on this? Has anyone else experienced such a thing??</b><br />
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For the last three miles I did way more "fast walking" than I want to even admit to myself since running made my left foot feel like it was going to explode. I may or may not have exclaimed "motherfucker!" to myself, and possibly out loud, sporadically throughout that experience. It wasn't my proudest moment, but whatever. (Finishing time: 2:35:08)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">"I hate everything, but look, I finished!"<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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We raced through some super rich neighborhoods. I mean, I've never before been met in a race by people on their plush, green lawns drinking bloody marys (at 8am) and kids on bikes wearing boat shoes and blazers. And no, I'm not exaggerating.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e1Z1PGejbDY/UycNJvAeBuI/AAAAAAAAFeE/YAsv5eL4sbA/s1600/C30B88346B4D42E6B212564161B1CBEC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e1Z1PGejbDY/UycNJvAeBuI/AAAAAAAAFeE/YAsv5eL4sbA/s1600/C30B88346B4D42E6B212564161B1CBEC.jpg" height="240" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">There were at least 2 of these. You know, starter vehicles for the kids.</td></tr>
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I did, however, appreciate the crazy awesome crowd support (after about mile 6, of course, once the sun was up) and all the spectators with their dogs. I high-fived kids, someone complimented my shoes (ironically for me), and the rain held off until my last mile! I would definitely do this race again.<br />
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Also, I have already registered for my next race!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">It's possible I was mainly enticed by the food.</td></tr>
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I'm hoping to find <i>something </i>to relieve my foot woes before then. Any advice?<br />
<br />emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-81149636336211356912014-03-07T13:10:00.000-05:002014-03-07T13:10:25.627-05:00Warmth: A mythical phenomenonI forget what it's like to be warm.<br />
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I began my morning by being awakened by the electricity kicking the bucket...seven minutes before my alarm went off. Looking outside, it was eerily dark. I decided to not wait until the house started getting cold and quickly grabbed a flashlight, a candle, and took a shower by candlelight.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">So romantic.</td></tr>
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When I took Pippi for a walk, i was amazed by the thick layer of ice on the trees and the limbs and trees that had been taken down by it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">This is what the trees look like in hell.</td></tr>
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When I was on a walk with Pippi, a tree fell in the woods and scared the crap out of me. And, of course, she took <i>forever</i> to find a spot to poop. My little, furry smartass.<br />
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When I go to work, I was able to assess my ability to apply makeup in the dark. Not too awful; just some uneven eye liner, and I'm sure my coworkers are used to that from me by now.<br />
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Today would be a great day to be able to text with the dog. Checking the power company's website, it appears the power is still out at the house. At least I had the foresight to provide her with an extra blanket in her crate this morning. I also just got an e-mail notice that another tree has fallen in the neighborhood and now our fire alarm system is down too. At least it's raining...?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">I live in the overlapping outages area. Crap.</td></tr>
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It's barely above freezing right now and the high for tomorrow is supposed to be in the low 60s. Here's hoping!<br />
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On a totally unrelated note: Today my mom and stepdad closed on the house I grew up in! They moved to southern Virginia in January and have had the house <a href="http://www.johnedwardsproperties.com/Virginia-Real-Estate/Occoquan/115-Washington-St-Occoquan-VA-22125-PW8255333.html">on the market</a> since. And now someone else owns it! It's weird, but cool. It's a great house, but the location was getting too crowded for their liking. I hope the new owners enjoy it as much as we did.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YgIz1nIiEDs/UxoFj2AlERI/AAAAAAAAFco/kngYWEd5rMI/s1600/GetMedia.ashx.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YgIz1nIiEDs/UxoFj2AlERI/AAAAAAAAFco/kngYWEd5rMI/s1600/GetMedia.ashx.jpeg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Hasta la vista, baby!</td></tr>
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<br />emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-8274427992119288372014-03-06T13:25:00.000-05:002014-03-06T13:25:31.907-05:00"Brand new!"I will get better at blogging. I WILL get better at blogging...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s-Cp4ALYaeA/UxirMrKwnqI/AAAAAAAAFao/baErkB-4ltw/s1600/695.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-s-Cp4ALYaeA/UxirMrKwnqI/AAAAAAAAFao/baErkB-4ltw/s1600/695.gif" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Yeah, we'll see.</td></tr>
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This past weekend I went on a trip. On my way there, I connected at LaGuardia airport, and was able to take some sweet airplane window photos of New York City. I was able to get one with Freedom Tower in it, too. Kind of surreal.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ew52e_R7sCI/UxiuKSzoGyI/AAAAAAAAFa0/leLO6lgiI2A/s1600/2014-02-27+10.00.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ew52e_R7sCI/UxiuKSzoGyI/AAAAAAAAFa0/leLO6lgiI2A/s1600/2014-02-27+10.00.37.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Right before the turbulence of death began.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">It's almost the same.</td></tr>
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One thing you may not know about me: I get motion sick easily. It always annoys me when people on the bus to work or in moving cars get to read without needing to barf. You know what they say about misery. The first few times I flew places, it seemed that my body did ok with flying. No barf! Wee! And then just as I let my defenses down, I've had to use the airplane barf bag twice in the past year.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tUzlEorN008/UxiwfS2PoCI/AAAAAAAAFbA/nvUsIkTZotc/s1600/womp_logo_c3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tUzlEorN008/UxiwfS2PoCI/AAAAAAAAFbA/nvUsIkTZotc/s1600/womp_logo_c3.jpg" height="182" width="320" /></a></div>
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I now take two Dramamine pills before each flight. Overkill? Probably.<br />
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It's safe to say my ideal vacation will never be a cruise. Or, you know, a flight around the world.<br />
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Airplane sickness and cancelled flights aside, on my way home...from my connection...in Chicago...seven hours later than originally planned, I got to fly in a "brand new!" plane. The fact that they made such a big deal about the newness of this plane actually frightened me more than excited me. I've been watching way too many documentaries about airplane crashes for that to put me at ease. (Thanks for nothing, Netflix!) But then I took my Dramamine. By the way, they make "less drowsy" Dramamine now. What's the point?<br />
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So, anyway, about this "brand new!" plane.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aYWfpXEwJEA/Uxi027st3EI/AAAAAAAAFbU/1rtY5CIVFwU/s1600/2014-03-02+19.59.33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aYWfpXEwJEA/Uxi027st3EI/AAAAAAAAFbU/1rtY5CIVFwU/s1600/2014-03-02+19.59.33.jpg" height="400" width="358" /></a></div>
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The back of every seat had a screen where you could buy movies (unless you're in first class. Rich people get to watch movies for free). Also, the "safety instructions" were shown on the screen instead of the flight attendants going over them, and throughout the flight you could watch your altitude.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aUtO3v8rQ6s/Uxi12UdxmwI/AAAAAAAAFbg/12WHKb9esCw/s1600/2014-03-02+20.19.53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aUtO3v8rQ6s/Uxi12UdxmwI/AAAAAAAAFbg/12WHKb9esCw/s1600/2014-03-02+20.19.53.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Kind of cool, I guess.</td></tr>
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Other than that it was an airplane, and I got off it wanting to kiss the ground, as usual.<br />
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I couldn't wait to get home and see this one.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bZsxAyjrGS0/Uxi8sYzJavI/AAAAAAAAFb4/PQSyD5T6_us/s1600/2014-02-10+18.12.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bZsxAyjrGS0/Uxi8sYzJavI/AAAAAAAAFb4/PQSyD5T6_us/s1600/2014-02-10+18.12.49.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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My super amazing brother and SIL picked her up from the "doggy daycare" and brought her home for me so that I didn't have to pay for another night and also so she'd be home when I got there...around midnight. Not having to spend a night alone: Priceless.emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-62670814660789188442014-02-24T15:35:00.000-05:002014-02-24T15:35:27.734-05:00Never again…please.This has nothing to do with anything except that I just saw it advertised (not in a joking way) as I was beginning this post and I'm slightly horrified/mystified.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DHoS32fP_TY/UwJrmRDyB1I/AAAAAAAAFZE/4LX9s8h8-RY/s1600/71WRsGM7H1L._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DHoS32fP_TY/UwJrmRDyB1I/AAAAAAAAFZE/4LX9s8h8-RY/s1600/71WRsGM7H1L._SL1500_.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AQT653G/ref=tsm_1_tw_s_amzn_n15ov9">This is a thing.</a> Discuss.</td></tr>
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And now onto the good stuff.<br />
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I think I can finally write this post without having nightmares. It's no secret that it snowed here a couple weeks ago. It was a snow that everyone knew was coming, yet no one (in central North Carolina) was prepared for, as usual.<br />
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If you went to college or work at a college anywhere south of, probably, Pennsylvania, you know how universities like to cancel classes for snow, but employees still are expected to show up to work. Because, only the safety of those paying to be there really matters. Wouldn't it be fun if the whole world worked this way?<br />
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So, the snow was expected to start around lunchtime and hit us hard and fast. Classes were cancelled starting at noon, but employees were still expected to work a full day. I went into a meeting at 12:30 and it hadn't started coming down. When I got out of the meeting at 2, we already had a lot on the ground and it was coming down thick.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bc6p0wSC9Bk/UwunAI-1isI/AAAAAAAAFZU/e6GdkEtpnag/s1600/IMG_4855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bc6p0wSC9Bk/UwunAI-1isI/AAAAAAAAFZU/e6GdkEtpnag/s1600/IMG_4855.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Ten minutes later, we all got a panicked e-mail from the university that all offices were CLOSED IMMEDIATELY! My coworker offered to drive me to the park-and-ride lot since it appeared the buses were all stuck and/or had stopped running. The 2-ish mile drive to the lot took an hour. Way to go, UNC! I was NOT your biggest fan that day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NAKheFuDqFc/UwuoTaXC6WI/AAAAAAAAFZg/zMC9R9KlzOw/s1600/IMG_4856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NAKheFuDqFc/UwuoTaXC6WI/AAAAAAAAFZg/zMC9R9KlzOw/s1600/IMG_4856.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">So very annoyed.</td></tr>
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The drive from there to my house (about three miles)? Another two hours. That's five miles in three hours. People were getting stuck trying to get up even the smallest hills. One street I finally got down after waiting behind a pickup spewing awful exhaust for a good long while.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bDd8SnzTS8E/UwupLfKAivI/AAAAAAAAFZo/efxQFo5SVhA/s1600/IMG_4858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bDd8SnzTS8E/UwupLfKAivI/AAAAAAAAFZo/efxQFo5SVhA/s1600/IMG_4858.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Hating everything.</td></tr>
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I definitely jumped a few curbs but really, it didn't get me anywhere any faster. My boss had to leave her car in a parking lot and walk home, which I was contemplating only because I was about to start ramming people. But I persevered. Once I got past the hilly street, past all the cars that were getting stuck, this was the rest of the ride.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DFJPX3sTGOc/Uwuq-f6wQAI/AAAAAAAAFaE/FBgt_ynHArg/s1600/IMG_4864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DFJPX3sTGOc/Uwuq-f6wQAI/AAAAAAAAFaE/FBgt_ynHArg/s1600/IMG_4864.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Four-wheel-drive, I love you!</td></tr>
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This is one adventure I never want to relive. I wasn't made to endure all this fluffy whiteness. This was enough snow for me for years, thank you!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QYvVHO16se8/Uwur8Cu0lGI/AAAAAAAAFaM/uKTM2DbgtgA/s1600/IMG_4867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QYvVHO16se8/Uwur8Cu0lGI/AAAAAAAAFaM/uKTM2DbgtgA/s1600/IMG_4867.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The only fluffy whiteness I care for.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3KTMev_U3y4/UwusliCPwfI/AAAAAAAAFaU/hfDYGtsVdd8/s1600/IMG_4931.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3KTMev_U3y4/UwusliCPwfI/AAAAAAAAFaU/hfDYGtsVdd8/s1600/IMG_4931.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">My run outside a week later was…interesting.</td></tr>
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<br />emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-57823567741013877162014-01-09T11:52:00.001-05:002014-01-09T11:53:05.138-05:00What did we laugh at before the internet was born?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday? Yesterday, the internet won.<br />
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Everything.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iksJfm_XVk0/Us7SvlnFOtI/AAAAAAAAFYU/N-jXk3mmB6I/s1600/tumblr_la99vyId4F1qzd9ino1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iksJfm_XVk0/Us7SvlnFOtI/AAAAAAAAFYU/N-jXk3mmB6I/s1600/tumblr_la99vyId4F1qzd9ino1_500.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></div>
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Seriously. The laughing woke up the dog...<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-llYOIuavFkE/Us7TDTCvfKI/AAAAAAAAFYY/SpkK0fvABSQ/s1600/anigif_enhanced-buzz-3411-1383236783-39.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-llYOIuavFkE/Us7TDTCvfKI/AAAAAAAAFYY/SpkK0fvABSQ/s1600/anigif_enhanced-buzz-3411-1383236783-39.gif" height="218" width="400" /></a></div>
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I've seen it at least 30 times now and still with the laughing.emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-91970082812463625152014-01-08T14:35:00.002-05:002014-01-08T14:35:58.366-05:00Sprinkles: the cure for everythingI'm about to make you feel better about almost everything. (Yes, even the frigid weather).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c-hNB9AWRlo/Us2fboXCioI/AAAAAAAAFXI/FZRAQLJBHFI/s1600/mHbYqWpolar-vortex-freezing-winter-talk-seasonal-ecards-someecards.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c-hNB9AWRlo/Us2fboXCioI/AAAAAAAAFXI/FZRAQLJBHFI/s1600/mHbYqWpolar-vortex-freezing-winter-talk-seasonal-ecards-someecards.png" height="178" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">It's safe to say I'm a couple days late with this one.</td></tr>
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Ever since Friday, (five days ago) I've had the constant feeling of being carsick. Five. Days. No, I still don't know what causes the dizziness but five days straight every couple months of not being able to do anything but sit or lie still without feeling sick, is unacceptable. I considered drugging myself up with Dramamine, which would have been wonderful except for the fact that, you know, I work for a living and being awake is a necessity.<br />
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This morning I was dreading getting out of bed and going through it again but then, when I stood up out of bed...NOT DIZZY! It's like the clouds parted and I wanted to kiss everyone! And everything! PIPPI, GET OVER HERE!<br />
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Suddenly, after taking five days off from working out, due to the obvious, I currently want to RUN ALL THE MILES! <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B2eh2mjfvJs/Us2gCsJlxRI/AAAAAAAAFXQ/Zp6pteYQ_KI/s1600/02082012levin.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B2eh2mjfvJs/Us2gCsJlxRI/AAAAAAAAFXQ/Zp6pteYQ_KI/s1600/02082012levin.png" height="141" width="200" /></a></div>
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I'm officially giving credit to the last thing I ate last night for this miracle.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-owMSY2yZR1o/Us2hCcr5L_I/AAAAAAAAFXc/cxBNq3PeqYY/s1600/2014-01-07+18.24.07-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-owMSY2yZR1o/Us2hCcr5L_I/AAAAAAAAFXc/cxBNq3PeqYY/s1600/2014-01-07+18.24.07-1.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">AKA - ending a bad day in the best way possible.</td></tr>
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The sprinkles poured out too fast and I was about to complain that I got too many and then I realized...that's not even possible! </div>
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Not only was it cold outside yesterday (there I go again)<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iGiPXiTOnB8/Us2iM4CdKaI/AAAAAAAAFXo/m3FruOLzgUw/s1600/cold-weather-meme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iGiPXiTOnB8/Us2iM4CdKaI/AAAAAAAAFXo/m3FruOLzgUw/s1600/cold-weather-meme.jpg" /></a></div>
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...but my commute to work ended in this:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qjjuhUWww4k/Us2iifQvKMI/AAAAAAAAFXw/_67zhtDu6Lk/s1600/2014-01-07+07.53.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qjjuhUWww4k/Us2iifQvKMI/AAAAAAAAFXw/_67zhtDu6Lk/s1600/2014-01-07+07.53.47.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Stop signs. They aren't optional.</td></tr>
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I probably haven't said this enough, but MAN do I love people. So, in trying to look for the humorous in crap situations, I found it kind of funny that, when I called the insurance company one of the questions they asked me was whether I was wearing my seatbelt. Now, I instinctively always put mine on, so when I told "insurance lady" that I was wearing mine I wasn't lying. My question is...who would say no to this? Not only would that be really stupid but it's actually <a href="http://www.buckleupnc.org/occupant-restraint-laws/seat-belt-law-summary/">against the law to drive without your seatbelt on in North Carolina</a>. So, if someone actually admitted to not wearing one, would insurance not cover the accident?<br />
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That's your homework. Hope to it! I'll be over here...basking in the glow of being able to look from side-to-side without feeling the need to hurl. Wee!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-byfe-fXnKrM/Us2oDsi99gI/AAAAAAAAFYA/Tsp1YVGpFBs/s1600/2014-01-04+16.31.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-byfe-fXnKrM/Us2oDsi99gI/AAAAAAAAFYA/Tsp1YVGpFBs/s1600/2014-01-04+16.31.58.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">"Does this mean longer walks again, Momma?"</td></tr>
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<br />emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-39556519619755492352013-11-12T10:47:00.000-05:002013-11-12T10:47:58.270-05:00Lumberjack with pretty feet<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GgGiFtrkcb4/UoJCS8YRF8I/AAAAAAAAFVQ/AEPTG-JEOt4/s1600/941282_10101271032138357_662395328_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GgGiFtrkcb4/UoJCS8YRF8I/AAAAAAAAFVQ/AEPTG-JEOt4/s400/941282_10101271032138357_662395328_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">And the internet wins again.</td></tr>
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This past weekend I finally did a few things that were long overdue. For one? I got a freaking pedicure!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B8ahl09epjg/UoJFEmyJTnI/AAAAAAAAFVc/vG6de1z9JfA/s1600/2013-11-10+14.57.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B8ahl09epjg/UoJFEmyJTnI/AAAAAAAAFVc/vG6de1z9JfA/s400/2013-11-10+14.57.38.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">I never do red. So mainstream of me.</td></tr>
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It's probably been over a year since I've gotten one and, as with getting my hair cut, after I have it done and realize how much I needed it, I promise myself I'll do it more often. And then I don't.<br />
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Only time will tell.<br />
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The next thing I did that was long overdue has to do with a very large, ugly bush. Let's all get the giggles out of the way now. LARGE UGLY BUSH!<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-69N1fjzwkgo/UoJGhAWxrzI/AAAAAAAAFVo/0xaijvd4XZc/s1600/tumblr_mby0ko1oaP1rrn9k9o1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-69N1fjzwkgo/UoJGhAWxrzI/AAAAAAAAFVo/0xaijvd4XZc/s320/tumblr_mby0ko1oaP1rrn9k9o1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ok, on to the story of said bush.<br />
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The first time I pulled up to my house (which wasn't mine yet) for an open house, my first thought was, "Holy crap, that large, ugly bush has got to go."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5rG7Ea3PF-Y/UoJHBv33BYI/AAAAAAAAFVw/Dc0nJsNR5c0/s1600/2013-11-09+11.41.57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5rG7Ea3PF-Y/UoJHBv33BYI/AAAAAAAAFVw/Dc0nJsNR5c0/s400/2013-11-09+11.41.57.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">I mean, come on.</td></tr>
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I vaguely remember asking the property manager if I could remove it and her telling me I'm not allowed. And then lately there have been break-ins in my neighborhood and what better place to hide than behind the LARGE UGLY BUSH, right? My agenda was clear: chop down the bush!<br />
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And so, saw in hand...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TRrd3EzzUEs/UoJI6AXJW-I/AAAAAAAAFV8/V3Lx0DAR4Kg/s1600/2013-11-09+12.08.50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TRrd3EzzUEs/UoJI6AXJW-I/AAAAAAAAFV8/V3Lx0DAR4Kg/s400/2013-11-09+12.08.50.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">BOOM!</td></tr>
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As you can see, there's still a stump there. I don't have the necessary tools to dig it out, but my brother suggested using the Jeep's 4-wheel-drive power to do it. Not surprisingly, I've already gotten an offer from a friend to do it for me...in exchange for beer. Aaaand...done.<br />
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Come spring, I plan on planting something much more aesthetically pleasing in the spot than the large, ugly bush. Suggestions welcome. Clearly, the HOA's landscaping company pretty much sucks at choosing greenery....and trimming it.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3g1o5PsXLfk/UoJLCk1zJHI/AAAAAAAAFWI/zzmJmLG5lAU/s1600/2013-09-18+17.34.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3g1o5PsXLfk/UoJLCk1zJHI/AAAAAAAAFWI/zzmJmLG5lAU/s320/2013-09-18+17.34.55.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">They trimmed this dude a couple months ago and left it like this.</td></tr>
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Now, had they trimmed the large, ugly bush like this, I would have kept it.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QF2tM_0dxaQ/UoJMUpd9zDI/AAAAAAAAFWU/dwzDxTqulV4/s1600/2617456231_66cb99da0a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QF2tM_0dxaQ/UoJMUpd9zDI/AAAAAAAAFWU/dwzDxTqulV4/s320/2617456231_66cb99da0a.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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I mean, who would burgle a house with this out front?<br />
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NO ONE!<br />
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<br />emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-7654050818591288062013-11-07T12:53:00.000-05:002013-11-07T13:51:25.933-05:00A good dayYou know what's funny? When you wear this to work and receive more than one compliment on how "dressed up you are" today.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8IfvWoGU4sQ/UnvCa8QKeyI/AAAAAAAAFTw/vnwSpRFQwak/s1600/2013-11-07+11.35.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8IfvWoGU4sQ/UnvCa8QKeyI/AAAAAAAAFTw/vnwSpRFQwak/s400/2013-11-07+11.35.38.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Secret: It's ridiculously comfortable.</td></tr>
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Apparently I'm normally dressed like a slob. I'll have to throw on a dress and leggings more often. That's the key to a raise, right?<br />
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So, on to the real reason for this post. It's been one of those months at work where I've felt like everything I do is fraught with disaster. (No, I'm not a drama queen. Why do you ask?) I walked into work today, however, and the clouds parted.<br />
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A project that I'd been working on designing, discussing, editing, redesigning, and making changes to since April is finally complete! I don't normally discuss my designs on here, but why the heck not?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t5f4cL2B25A/UnvRt6hXVnI/AAAAAAAAFU0/AQb7jLLf4GY/s1600/2013-10-30+20.56.51.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t5f4cL2B25A/UnvRt6hXVnI/AAAAAAAAFU0/AQb7jLLf4GY/s400/2013-10-30+20.56.51.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Probably scarily accurate.</td></tr>
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The typical pieces I get to design at work are one or two-color jobs, normally on white paper, and stapled if necessary. There are exceptions, of course, but just some background. My boss told me back in April that the MPA program in our School wanted a viewbook and that she wanted me to design it: colors, shape, paper type, all that. One of my coworkers wrote and edited the content.<br />
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Fast forward seven months:<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GetviQQ7-qI/UnvNCtQ39KI/AAAAAAAAFUA/DWZNOXRY53M/s1600/2013-11-07+09.05.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="282" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GetviQQ7-qI/UnvNCtQ39KI/AAAAAAAAFUA/DWZNOXRY53M/s400/2013-11-07+09.05.41.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Ain't it perty?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-canybu7L_wI/UnvO-Xx-ukI/AAAAAAAAFUM/VuU545BsvFs/s1600/2013-11-07+09.07.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-canybu7L_wI/UnvO-Xx-ukI/AAAAAAAAFUM/VuU545BsvFs/s400/2013-11-07+09.07.35.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">A few of the spreads</td></tr>
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Along with the writing, designing, editing, meetings, and e-mails, we also hired photographers from different areas to take the great photos.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZFyyQG_DJM/UnvPJo0MS1I/AAAAAAAAFUU/Y5K50lz9Hpk/s1600/2013-11-07+09.08.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="167" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZFyyQG_DJM/UnvPJo0MS1I/AAAAAAAAFUU/Y5K50lz9Hpk/s400/2013-11-07+09.08.14.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">My favorite spread. That's one photo!</td></tr>
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My crack at designing infographics. Kinda.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_cKtt675RgE/UnvQDO_fomI/AAAAAAAAFUg/VIexye4rRDI/s1600/2013-11-07+09.07.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_cKtt675RgE/UnvQDO_fomI/AAAAAAAAFUg/VIexye4rRDI/s400/2013-11-07+09.07.43.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I took these pictures in my ill-lit office, so the actual piece has much better colors. Promise.<br />
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This, on the other hand, is a series of pieces I designed, photographed be a professional. Fancy, right?<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VDsvrBXLmQQ/UnvS1qGwz0I/AAAAAAAAFVA/xqmZsn9RwYE/s1600/DSC_4284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VDsvrBXLmQQ/UnvS1qGwz0I/AAAAAAAAFVA/xqmZsn9RwYE/s400/DSC_4284.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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In conclusion: I really have no point here except that I'm not sad I showed up for work today.emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-46074231777652979312013-11-05T15:45:00.000-05:002013-11-05T15:45:23.905-05:002013 City of Oaks half marathonIf you follow me on social media, you already know that I completed my fourth half marathon. (I got a little annoying with the race photos.)<div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Many thanks to Will (Lindsey's BF) for being there after I finished to hang out.</td></tr>
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This race was, by far, my favorite even with all the dang HILLS. For the first time, I had the opportunity to train AND run this race with friends. It makes such a huge difference. I ran with two friends who were running the full marathon and who had to stop to pee a couple of times. I didn't come close to a PR but I don't even care. Not even .1%. I ran into (no pun intended) calf cramps around mile 10, which slowed me down. My next race is at the beach, so I'll try for a PR next time. Maybe.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Lindsey, Molly, and me. Smiling. While RUNNING!</td></tr>
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Aside from friends making this race awesome, a few other things stood out:</div>
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<li>A church group handing out Twizzlers around mile 5</li>
<li>Mile 9-ish, a woman with a box of tissues for those in need (temps were in the mid-40s so snot was flowing)</li>
<li>Amazing police and volunteer involvement </li>
<li>Firefighters at two fire houses outside cheering </li>
<li>A pastor spectating outside of his church, fully robed</li>
<li>As finishers were approaching the finish line, their names were called over the speakers. </li>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">You can't not fist pump at the sound of your name at this moment.</td></tr>
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Also, after crossing the finish, the volunteer handing out medals shook my hand, congratulated me, <b>and</b> put the medal around my neck. That dude deserved a medal!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Well-placed photographer: WIN</td></tr>
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This whole weekend was one that I won't soon forget. I think sometimes running to finish and not worrying about your time, but just on having fun, is important. I know people who disagree and that's just fine. </div>
emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-67384753314114542882013-08-14T09:52:00.000-04:002013-08-14T09:52:19.571-04:00Crazy running armsI've been putting a lot of thought lately into my running form. I'm sure I look like a total goober when I run, but that's not to say I plan on focusing on changing it any time soon. I'm not sure if it's because it's been so gross out that I've been trying to focus on something other than the heat, but I've been thinking a lot about what my arms are doing, in particular. <br />
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I've been seeing a lot of strange "running arms." <br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PlZAYuhgQlY/Ugt9iDP-9EI/AAAAAAAAFOQ/9fwYFdVEKA0/s1600/Phoebe-Running.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PlZAYuhgQlY/Ugt9iDP-9EI/AAAAAAAAFOQ/9fwYFdVEKA0/s400/Phoebe-Running.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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Yesterday at the gym I discovered "The Fly Swatter"<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwqAR4HX4F3wo_Z3jvoopkL6IM7zvu69WZPijk_FSidGe3yYRWkH1eecduXkkDOH7XatNksBKM80_Ret8pcfA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe> </div>
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If you know this girl, please help her. </div>
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I've also noticed the "arms at sides," which just seems really difficult, along with the "exaggerated arm swing" and the "hands behind the back." Maybe that one is intended as practice for having to run if handcuffed?<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-52F2OowEyBY/UguHFMoPpBI/AAAAAAAAFOg/_BYfREHUuo8/s1600/HowToRun_Header.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-52F2OowEyBY/UguHFMoPpBI/AAAAAAAAFOg/_BYfREHUuo8/s400/HowToRun_Header.jpg" width="288" /></a></div>
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According to most sources I've explored, I'd describe my bad running arms as the "cross my heart," which sounds nice, but apparently it's not right. I guess I should work on keeping my arms from sliding across my chest. Eh, we'll see.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TTCGQE2TzJc/UguHme6YzoI/AAAAAAAAFOo/3N-mip1VgzI/s1600/arms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="347" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TTCGQE2TzJc/UguHme6YzoI/AAAAAAAAFOo/3N-mip1VgzI/s400/arms.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption">That finger is always pointing at something to my right.</td></tr>
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And, just for fun, the day I was so happy for the race to be over, I inadvertently did "The Phoebe." <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OLiUUuYCrj0/UguIOPsoJHI/AAAAAAAAFO0/HS3iucCzJOE/s1600/295250_10100471222767747_2049070679_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OLiUUuYCrj0/UguIOPsoJHI/AAAAAAAAFO0/HS3iucCzJOE/s400/295250_10100471222767747_2049070679_n.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
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<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption">Momma, you don't judge me on my "butt-tuck" running, do you?</td></tr>
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<br />emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-83901609663991996252013-07-24T10:40:00.000-04:002013-07-24T10:40:16.610-04:00Charity Miles: too good to be true?Today I finally researched something pretty interesting that I've been hearing about: <a href="http://www.charitymiles.org/">Charity Miles</a>. It's actually pretty awesome. I'm surprised it's not more popular.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Bikers earn 10¢ a mile and walkers and runners earn 25¢ a mile, up to our initial $1,000,000 sponsorship pool.</i></div>
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Simply turn on the app, choose a charity, and press start. As you exercise, we'll track your distance and the money earned.</div>
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You download the app, choose a charity (from the 22 choices), and tell it whether you're running/walking or biking. It tracks your mileage via GPS and tells you how much money is donated to the charity you chose based on the distance. The only downside is that, since it works off GPS, you can't earn mileage from the treadmill or stationary bike. <br />
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Since I just discovered this today, I can't really speak to its integrity or how well it works, but in theory, it's an awesome idea. <br />
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Sara McLachlin would be proud to know that I plan on selecting the ASPCA as my charity of choice.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MUK6QwausqE/Ue_mTHCpwfI/AAAAAAAAFNQ/Ze9gIaSQOzE/s1600/l_6f693be0-c948-11e1-97e9-d70785a00007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MUK6QwausqE/Ue_mTHCpwfI/AAAAAAAAFNQ/Ze9gIaSQOzE/s320/l_6f693be0-c948-11e1-97e9-d70785a00007.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>Runner, walker, and biker friends, have you heard of Charity Miles? </b><br />
<b><br />If so, would you recommend it?</b>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5944257210487042191.post-81081274226672107342013-07-17T12:35:00.000-04:002013-07-17T12:35:15.182-04:00Epiphany<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been absent from blogging for a while now. Basically? Life happened. Life, and me working through some things. Getting back to running after an almost five-month hiatus while dealing with a back "injury" has put a lot of things into perspective.<br />
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It feels like I'm starting over. My first run back was ok, but the resulting muscle pain was ridiculous. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but I guess I figured maybe I'm lucky and I'll bounce back quickly.<br />
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Nuh-uh!<br />
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<b>Endurance is earned, not given.</b> You have to earn that shit back, guys. It's no joke! My training plan for my next race doesn't start until next week, but since my first long run (next weekend...already!) is six miles, I knew I needed to work up to it and put in some base miles so I decided I wouldn't wait for the doctor's ok and started running again about a month ago. I'm quite the risk-taker.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tw7a3TmWi58/UebA06IiXXI/AAAAAAAAFMg/8X7nAOkx2TM/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-07-17+at+12.03.30+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tw7a3TmWi58/UebA06IiXXI/AAAAAAAAFMg/8X7nAOkx2TM/s320/Screen+Shot+2013-07-17+at+12.03.30+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption">I'm in LOVE with my shoes. Sorry, Brooks. I'm a traitor.</td></tr>
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Before my running hiatus, I'd gotten to the point where I felt like I was comparing myself with my running counterparts (who are much more competitive and better runners than me) and it wasn't enjoyable anymore. I was almost ready to throw in the towel.<br />
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Almost.<br />
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This past Sunday while I was running with my friend, Lindsey, we discussed this issue and I realized I wasn't the only one who'd experienced this "runner's guilt." We didn't have a particularly fast run and we weren't competing with each other. We ran at a comfortable pace and walked when we needed it. It was stress-free and, dare I say it, enjoyable! But we were still putting in the miles. I can't remember the last time before this year that I actually enjoyed a run. No, seriously. <br />
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Why was I comparing myself with everyone else? Why did I let it bother me that I'm slower than they are and not wanting to run longer races? Epiphany: Why not be in competition...with only myself? I know, novel idea, right? Welcome to adulthood, self. <br />
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Yes, my goal at my next race is to PR (and at the one after that and the one after that) but I'm not going to beat myself up if I don't. I'm just going to enjoy the journey...and embrace my inner tortoise.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H1kOgS2S9e8/UebHd0P7e3I/AAAAAAAAFMw/bHDk7wut_T4/s1600/Hare-Tortoise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H1kOgS2S9e8/UebHd0P7e3I/AAAAAAAAFMw/bHDk7wut_T4/s400/Hare-Tortoise.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08461915417656593647noreply@blogger.com1