tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72927808788065468782024-03-13T16:37:43.989-04:00A of AllThis blog is about anything I think is funny. B of All, this blog is about the adventures of being single in Washington DC. C of All, this blog is about fashion faux pas, pop culture, and the pursuit of a really good hot dog.Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.comBlogger294125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-66137827563167298832013-09-02T16:10:00.001-04:002013-09-02T16:10:41.712-04:00I've Moved!Testing ... Testing ... one-two ... Ahem. Anyone still out there? <div>
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Well, if you are ... I love you. HOLY CRAP people, why are you still hanging around this abandoned shell of a blog? </div>
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So yeah, sorry about that. I kind of fell off the life wagon. I had to move to the desert to get a grip on myself and now, now, I think I'm finally ready to pick it all up again. </div>
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Thanks for hanging in there with me. You guys rule. </div>
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Along with a new physical address, I've got a new webaddress. </div>
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You can now find me at </h4>
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<a href="http://barelypassingmustard.com/">BarelyPassingMustard.com</a> </h3>
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Go check it out. There's lots of good stuff coming there. I wouldn't abandon you twice, amigos! </div>
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PS: Mustard's coming too. And he found a girlfriend. It's so weird! </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-15817367456165173642012-07-04T20:59:00.001-04:002012-07-04T20:59:25.755-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfAAx3J4c4fkjLHbcF7n6ckAzJSI8lxctypL3FXylpQijzVtmblXsinlwfz-CknoTDUGF1QjTLruZq01Stn3aaGTMtQbMbh7Nx03jPlybEegfL6A6q5aD5PqpMI7wB99MVvASWKyFIV2A/s1600/picture+mock+up.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfAAx3J4c4fkjLHbcF7n6ckAzJSI8lxctypL3FXylpQijzVtmblXsinlwfz-CknoTDUGF1QjTLruZq01Stn3aaGTMtQbMbh7Nx03jPlybEegfL6A6q5aD5PqpMI7wB99MVvASWKyFIV2A/s320/picture+mock+up.tif" width="320" /></a></div>
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Bry is making this for me. It's gonna be wayyyyy awesome. <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-81540529431293977052012-02-09T20:14:00.003-05:002012-02-09T20:45:08.322-05:00Big Ideas While Going DownYesterday I rounded the corner to the elevator bank and one of my new co-workers was already there waiting to go down. I'm new and don't know my co-workers yet, so it would have been perfectly normal to introduce myself or something. But I was struck by a sudden fit of shyness and we rode down the ten floors in silent awkwardness. The silence belied my inner turmoil over the event.<br /><br />You lucky people are getting a peek behind the curtain at the rough transcript of my inner monologue:<br /><br />10th floor - I should introduce myself and make some cheesy small talk<br /><br />9th floor - Although I don't know why I should have to. I'm the newbie around here. He should be trying to make ME feel comfortable.<br /><br />8th floor - It's almost too late now. If I said something now, it'd just be way too weird ..... This is awkward.<br /><br />7th floor - If only I didn't get randomly shy like this. Why do I do this? It's like a personality land mine. I never know when it's going to strike.<br /><br />6th floor - I ask you!? Is there anything more awkward than riding in silence with a semi-stranger in an elevator? I don't even have my phone. This is torture. TORTURE!!<br /><br />5th floor - I should have just said hi. What's so hard about saying hi? Sheesh! I wish there was a pill I could take that would change annoying personality traits, like random bouts of shyness that make it impossible to talk to strangers in elevators. That'd sure be handy right about now.<br /><br />4th floor - Hey, wait! That's a pretty good idea. Why hasn't anyone invented this yet? How great would it be to have a pill that you could take that would make you want to talk to elevator people?<br /><br />3rd floor - Pretty damn great. Maybe a drug is a little much ... but a vitamin! It could be a vitamin<br /><br />2nd floor - Oh, I like that. An "I Like to Talk to Strangers" Vitamin. There'd be a huge market for that! And you could have a whole line of personality vitamins. Flirty vitamins ... Confidence vitamins, .... Bravery vitamins <br /><br />1st floor - I really can't believe someone hasn't developed this! What the hell do scientists do all day anyway?<br /><br />Speedwalking away from my coworker across the Lobby - Oh wait. They might already have it. They call it Vodka. Shit.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-87147842121309345032011-09-07T22:11:00.003-04:002011-09-07T22:30:23.525-04:00Dynamite HackSome of you might think that I am advocating hemorrhoid medicine all of the sudden. But it's not true. I don't care if you have hemorrhoids. And I certainly don't care how you treat them.<br /><br />However, my email seems to think that everyone I know wants hemorrhoid medicine, or to know how to live without eczema, or to feel the energy of man power. And so I spammed you. Accidentally. Or on purpose if your the bastard that hacked my account and sent out random emails.<br /><br />The up side of this was that I got a lot of nice emails back from people I haven't spoken to for a while. I also got a couple of dinner invites out of the deal. Saaweeeeet! <br /><br />But the best part about the whole thing was the response I got back from my realtor. She's the sweetest lady, but this response to "my" email is hilarious.<br /><br />"My" email:<br />Forget about hemorrhoids! . <a rel="nofollow" href="http://grafos.com.mx/com.page.php?eCID=93g3" target="_blank">http://bigfakeaddress.com </a><br /><br />Her reply:<br /><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:12pt"><span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:blue;">That is great! Nice to hear from you!!!<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-90610028526218741142011-09-07T01:00:00.003-04:002011-09-07T01:30:57.747-04:00HomeworkWith all of my free time I'm trying to do a little creative writing. Nothing y'all are ever going to get to see, but just greasing the old wheels. Anyway, this writing book says that at the end of each day I'm supposed to write down what was worth writing about today. So, since I need to blog and the muse isn't striking me - you're going to get my homework.<br /><br />1. I had a serious case of the Mondays today, which is a bummer since it's a Tuesday. I was dreading, dreading, DREADING going to work. But I drug myself there, and much to my surprise, when I actually looked at what I had on my calendar it actually turned out to be a pretty light and relatively easy day. I used up all that dreading for nothing. <br /><br />2. I'm back on my diet of fruit smoothie for breakfast, salads for lunch and shrimp/mango/avocado tacos for dinner. I love that diet - it's delicious and has like 14 calories. Not like the Burger King I ate yesterday. They post the calories on the fast food signs in California (where I was yesterday) and let me tell you those numbers made me want to binge and purge right there on the linoleum. <br /><br />3. I watched Raising Hope tonight. I don't watch TV much anymore, and boy oh boy that show is hilarious. My favorite part of the episode was when Bert called yoga "Slow Karate." Awesome.<br /><br />4. All day I've been thinking of this quote from the book <span style="font-style: italic;">Please Ignore Vera Dietz</span>: "All his theme songs are in minor chords." Love. That.<br /><br />Perhaps not much really worth writing about today .... but I'm just doing as I'm told.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-38080695945896004422011-08-30T23:51:00.003-04:002011-08-31T00:37:53.053-04:00I'm Hooked on PhonicsSomething weird just happened. I sat down to write this post and I had Michael Jackson playing, and I had to turn it DOWN because I couldn't <span style="font-style: italic;">CONCENTRATE</span>.
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<br />Really? Turning MJ <span style="font-style: italic;">down</span>? That's disturbing to the very core.
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<br />Holy shit, I'm getting old.
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<br />So anyway, now that I've got the Lawrence Welk Singers going at a nice quiet hum, let's get blogging.
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<br />Alright, so yes, I've moved to Scottsdale, AZ. On the surface this looks like the behavior of a crazy person. I'd lived in DC for 11 years and I loved it. I mean LOVED IT. I loved the city, I loved the hustle and bustle, I loved the green forests, I loved it all. But the weird thing about DC is that it's a very transitory place which means that people are always coming and going. Well, one day I turned around and I noticed that instead of coming and going people had just been going.
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<br />I had just a small handful of very dear friends left in the city. And faced with the reality that I would need to embark on the horror called "make new friends" in a city where I was very comfortable, well I knew I wouldn't do it. I would hang out with my friends, stay in on the weekend, and go to all of my favorite and comfortable haunts and stay firmly within the confines of my comfort zone. I'm very similar to a baby bird when it comes to making friends. If you don't push me out of the nest, I'll just hang out and get fed by my mom (or in this case California Tortilla). I'm stupid lazy.
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<br />And then this opportunity with my job came up to transfer to Arizona. And I thought ... Could I?
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<br />Well, there were a lot of pros:
<br /><ul><li>Aforementioned necessity to start over, but this time without the safety net of a comfort zone. </li><li>Most of my family is in the west, including my brother who's here in Phoenix. </li><li>Uh, the entire state is on sale, so I could live like a sultan </li></ul>
<br />And so I did it.
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<br />I started coming out in April, promptly bought a house, had my stuff shipped out, and moved in the first week of July.
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<br />And, well, I have to say, I really like it here. I am totally shocked by how taken I've been with the beauty of the desert. Before when people would ask me what I thought of Phoenix, my response would be something like this, "It's a very beige strip mall." Which is still true, but I see beauty now in the mountains, and the colors of the desert. It's really something.
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<br />The other thing I really like about AZ is how damn easy it is to live here. I'm not even talking about the cost of living - which is pretty phenom. I'm talking about errands. And driving. And the amount of hours one is expected to work in a given day. I can tell you, I just about had to pick my jaw up off the floor when I went to Home Depot on a Saturday morning and the joint was a ghost town. Unless you have a death wish you do not go to Home Depot on the weekend in DC - that's just crazy talk. And traffic? Puh-lease!! All of these straight wide streets that have maybe, <span style="font-style: italic;">maybe</span> a 10 minute back up on them. It's like fantasy driving.
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<br />So moving here is really improving my quality of life. I've purchased a beautiful home which I love. I'm cooking my meals and exercising. And I find that I have a brand new commodity: spare time. Unfortunately, I have NO IDEA what to do with it.
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<br />I mean, seriously, tonight I've already come home from work, eaten dinner, finished a book, checked facebook, installed some upgrades to my laptop, gone swimming, and posted this blog and it's only 9:30. What the hell am I supposed to do with all of that time? The thought of TOMORROW night is more than I can bear.
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<br />No doubt I will turn to you, internets, for guidance on what the eff I should do with my time. My fun personality traits of indecision and ADHD will make it an extra fun exercise for us to do together!
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<br />Oh and by the way, since I know you will ask, I AM enjoying the heat, thankyouverymuch. It doesn't bother me a bit. I'm always in the air conditioning. But if I do happen to be outside and I get hot, then I go in the shade. Then I'm not hot. It's a miracle! DC was much more miserable than this.
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-72445881761557379022011-08-20T21:08:00.011-04:002011-08-20T22:11:50.534-04:00Wherin I need a decoratorHola peeps!
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<br />So as I alluded in my last post there's been some moving and shaking lately. Well, more moving than shaking if truth be told.
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<br />I've moved to Scottsdale, AZ! I'd love to go into the details of how, when, and for the love of all that's holy, WHY!? but I've got decorating to do and I need your advice. So we'll get into the back story later. For now, let's focus on the dilemma at hand.
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<br />So.
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<br />My living room.
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<br />I was out shopping today in some of the vintage stores in PHX, and I found this bench:
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG753niF7hiQHc8FvVeVc14Ca07gD2uMSL4QL-JF2PHrmTUSMXru3sIOWIpPGJCmAo82lgjdfNpfnS_tbYgsKMIlG7mWB0Zc8ueY4gsVy5WodJWax05NQU099JF1dQGSkJM9mCYCLNtnw/s1600/Bench+-+Full.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG753niF7hiQHc8FvVeVc14Ca07gD2uMSL4QL-JF2PHrmTUSMXru3sIOWIpPGJCmAo82lgjdfNpfnS_tbYgsKMIlG7mWB0Zc8ueY4gsVy5WodJWax05NQU099JF1dQGSkJM9mCYCLNtnw/s400/Bench+-+Full.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643123214741337282" border="0" /></a>
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<br />Here's a little zoom in on the top, center:
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8KnFCGoXnbyxWzyguNryM0KjiMOTq-1LAdpKP5lQY7B-Kv7DsDTK84dgxgzFEwHIZ2Uz6jhUWAdbMaRofFlsniH2lciDla4cHrNYwbKfSSyEBwij_lfLPf5QU5DnH61ZYuQInhU8Kivk/s1600/Bench+Detail.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8KnFCGoXnbyxWzyguNryM0KjiMOTq-1LAdpKP5lQY7B-Kv7DsDTK84dgxgzFEwHIZ2Uz6jhUWAdbMaRofFlsniH2lciDla4cHrNYwbKfSSyEBwij_lfLPf5QU5DnH61ZYuQInhU8Kivk/s400/Bench+Detail.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643120898200124658" border="0" /></a>
<br />Dimensions: 14" h x 24" d x 7' w
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<br />I thought it was pretty cool looking. Minimal, but solid, made of beautiful material. And I started thinking ... What if, instead of the traditional two chairs configuration, I used this bench and separated it into two sitting areas with cushions. At one end it could have a big fatty of a lamp, in between the "seats" a plant or magazines or something. And plenty of cushions to lean back onto.
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<br />Kind of unusual.
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<br />But I think it might be super cool.
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<br />This is where you come in, internets. I need your help. Put on your design glasses, and let me know what you think.
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<br />So here's what we're working with:
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<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Location, Location, Location! </span>
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<br />This is the window I'm thinking of putting this bench in front of. I love my view - there's a river (aka canal) and running path out there. I like to watch people come and go on it. And I like to see the water and all of the nature. So, if possible, I'd rather not block the view. I'm thinking the low profile of this bench might work well in that it will provide optional seating, without blocking the view with high or bulky chairs.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzNbTnhtFEN_I_H6CUGYz47LG7OZq-ur8xr2ArEta-iJv3WxU0UdXyG7sOWAt9-a0jLJ17-1Xpx2JY1mBg6VIzoz5M8SNwW1PaDqb_sLM7Ww6jB1_IRfENPFppdu8KJGdExBUhNXuwxo/s1600/decorating+003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzNbTnhtFEN_I_H6CUGYz47LG7OZq-ur8xr2ArEta-iJv3WxU0UdXyG7sOWAt9-a0jLJ17-1Xpx2JY1mBg6VIzoz5M8SNwW1PaDqb_sLM7Ww6jB1_IRfENPFppdu8KJGdExBUhNXuwxo/s400/decorating+003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643115970021386018" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>
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<br />This is my new couch - which I am in serious love with. You will need to imagine that the walls are painted some beautiful rich yet to be determined color, so this couch will pop off the wall and scream, "SIT ON ME (But only if you aren't dirty and don't have a lot of hair gel)!!" In a future post we'll talk wall colors. (I'm thinking grass green ... but you know me, as long as its not a neutral I'm open.)
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxmqF3pRX0VKujmfev8HQmDMgNlrgfa5u42zimFKdWI9BcYEVW1-gxg0bdW3XNjKsdqW821BBnArzRlzdqzYy2-lBFbklsyltC-9S1jocJXVXIeyKi24YMn0Jx2h8PQdrwRTiYwBic9c/s1600/decorating+002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxmqF3pRX0VKujmfev8HQmDMgNlrgfa5u42zimFKdWI9BcYEVW1-gxg0bdW3XNjKsdqW821BBnArzRlzdqzYy2-lBFbklsyltC-9S1jocJXVXIeyKi24YMn0Jx2h8PQdrwRTiYwBic9c/s400/decorating+002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643115867012005586" border="0" /></a>
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<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Styling:</span>
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<br />Now, here are some potential pieces to style this bench. Possible cushions to create the "seats" (which will hopefully be in a cooler color - like a royal blue or something.) And there'd be a bunch of colorful, complementary cushions to lean on as well. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAY5ty4CmzopKytQ44DPvE44e42QMaaVbSgwbj9mXKjFvQHLjWyn20sxLaybiujVELXsZs3vy2CyIsKBeN3eiJ2VqqmCABOMhv8tvMzI3URS3oi-vKHT9iVsz9rWjIXNoVXo47_zsrlFQ/s1600/cushion+sample.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAY5ty4CmzopKytQ44DPvE44e42QMaaVbSgwbj9mXKjFvQHLjWyn20sxLaybiujVELXsZs3vy2CyIsKBeN3eiJ2VqqmCABOMhv8tvMzI3URS3oi-vKHT9iVsz9rWjIXNoVXo47_zsrlFQ/s400/cushion+sample.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643116037240522610" border="0" /></a>
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<br />An AWESOME lamp I found today. Since the bench is so low (only 14") I want a tall lamp to anchor it. This dude is wicked cool. It doesn't hurt that the tag on it says, "Cool Fat Ass Lamp." I'd buy it just for that. (There's only one - do I need a pair??)
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxSw-SF62uxnQ71ZQZrpfi-ybvYYuXrZisVO25SpBBGIxhOItMkEODHBb3K5sYzZax4PHTj99z4s3ncyrXvvy9a55Fl6PvdAfo7RaErqJrdTv6dW_aFuWP_oOGnIgZXJPbL0cy442K7Q/s1600/Lamp+-+Full.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxSw-SF62uxnQ71ZQZrpfi-ybvYYuXrZisVO25SpBBGIxhOItMkEODHBb3K5sYzZax4PHTj99z4s3ncyrXvvy9a55Fl6PvdAfo7RaErqJrdTv6dW_aFuWP_oOGnIgZXJPbL0cy442K7Q/s400/Lamp+-+Full.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643116259136874162" border="0" /></a>
<br />I mean, seriously. Look at this glaze!
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglLSppHk3vpkxSdoLgYcIkPXn1PlVP8rY6wJ0mOsfTWUNMmduGBixYvUMoPEh-elUlFlVSacRfnLOiLQjJpGfja98tLajTdoHiLfo7neuRKOaIQqb2f_1odKsBLFqkfs36SgBOmHL5JLU/s1600/Lamp+Detail.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglLSppHk3vpkxSdoLgYcIkPXn1PlVP8rY6wJ0mOsfTWUNMmduGBixYvUMoPEh-elUlFlVSacRfnLOiLQjJpGfja98tLajTdoHiLfo7neuRKOaIQqb2f_1odKsBLFqkfs36SgBOmHL5JLU/s400/Lamp+Detail.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643116390244882450" border="0" /></a>
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<br />Then, get a green shag rug, a round glass coffee table, and a yet to be determined chair, shown below in yellow, and the layout would look something like this:
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNn31c2wSZnhnkJmAulDVBjyHH4WkGc75TNm9ODxA_oDvYY5tj5RObxlH_1wavwJ-jZQPHrqiH_giAjr0HVyTlozqYuWtfyAcIdDvqgGt__ZWE79nC-eXWXMV9Q_aLMDFPxh1tPC6dAx8/s1600/decorating+001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNn31c2wSZnhnkJmAulDVBjyHH4WkGc75TNm9ODxA_oDvYY5tj5RObxlH_1wavwJ-jZQPHrqiH_giAjr0HVyTlozqYuWtfyAcIdDvqgGt__ZWE79nC-eXWXMV9Q_aLMDFPxh1tPC6dAx8/s400/decorating+001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643116495893721314" border="0" /></a>
<br />So? What do you think? Should I break the rules and do a bench instead of two chairs in front of my window? Do I need two lamps - one on either side? (If so, should they match?) Is it sketchy to have to lean against the windows - I mean, there will be back cushions, but if you're really lazy your head could touch the window. Is that a no-no? Am I totally mental for thinking to do this?
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<br />Alright. Send me your thoughts, comments, criticisms. And, Go!
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-47118916395063204742011-07-11T00:33:00.006-04:002011-07-11T01:28:56.831-04:00Wherin I have a Broken Heart<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfDw9sLGFBLYljPHOBwDyro7vyZS-KW3O6RS16m3DnygL1lznCkHycIc4NzGqB5Ip2OjHWD3Bd0lPhcWK-0DbgYYrEuge9MW-BVbkcaARutM9hZ6UedwbsHTtcCiO2MP5_vFPX4Z1UGI/s1600/penguin_chick0408_002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 329px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfDw9sLGFBLYljPHOBwDyro7vyZS-KW3O6RS16m3DnygL1lznCkHycIc4NzGqB5Ip2OjHWD3Bd0lPhcWK-0DbgYYrEuge9MW-BVbkcaARutM9hZ6UedwbsHTtcCiO2MP5_vFPX4Z1UGI/s400/penguin_chick0408_002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627951548679741746" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Name: </span>Charles<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Description: </span>Beloved stuffed penguin<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Age: </span>24 years old<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Last seen: </span>the rumpled bed at a fine hotel in Scottsdale, AZ<br /></div><br />He's lost! My most treasured and oldest possession is lost! I am beside myself.<br /><br />I know you all think that my the only inanimate friend in my life is Mustard. But no. Long before Mustard there was Charles. And now ... Charles is LOST!! It's really probably the worst thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life. I'm NOT KIDDING.<br /><br />Think of it like this: If my life were Toy Story (and let's face it, I really do secretly believe that all inanimate objects have secret lives when I'm not around), Charles is Woody and Mustard is Buzz. So while Buzz is funny and weird and oh so hilarious to write about in a blog, it's Woody that is the heart of the operation. Charles is like that. He's stable, and understanding, and lets me cry on his shoulder and use him as a neck pillow. He's cool like that. As long as I'm happy, his crinkly little eyes are still happy.<br /><br />Since I was twelve, Charles has been there for it all. In the montage flashback, in addition to the sappy hugging and eskimo kisses that go without saying between a girl and her stuffed penguin, these are the images you'd see :<br /><br /><ul><li>Throwing him up in the air by his little wings doing flips and twists in the Penguin Olympics</li><li>Performing "Electric Charles" - a static electricity light show that was popular during my college years</li><li>Riding shotgun during many roadtrips, serving as Co-Pilot and Navigator<br /></li><li>Arriving in a cramped shoebox in Santiago, Chile. My Mom sent him to me because I was so home sick. He single-handedly saved me from a nervous break down. </li><li>Listening patiently while I cry and rant about one thing or another ... men, or work, or well ok, mostly work.<br /></li></ul>When I started this three month hotel stay, I brought Charles with me as a little piece of home. I checked in and out of about 15 hotels as I bounced across the country. Yesterday I checked out of the last one and went to go get the keys to the home I have purchased. The journey was over! And as I was unpacking the 3 suitcases I've been living out of I suddenly realized that I hadn't packed him. He had been left in the bed. I HAD LEFT CHARLES!! No mother who left her child at a gas station has felt worse than I did. Well, I didn't even think twice before grabbing my keys and driving to the hotel. A phone call just wouldn't do. <br /><br />But no luck. They couldn't find him. I'm still holding out hope, calling every day ... but you know know the stats. If they don't find missing people within 24 hours the chances diminish significantly. I'm sure that the maid just thought he was so damn cute she had to keep him. <br /><br />I'm brokenhearted. And yeah, I'm too old to still have a stuffed animal. And you gotta cut the cord some time. But I can't believe I am starting over in a new city, and I don't have my most constant companion to begin my new adventure with me. I love that little guy. <br /><br />I'm sad.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-2271900862315334092010-11-10T22:15:00.005-05:002010-11-10T22:31:47.205-05:00To the low pressure system in Rio de Janeiro: You're on Notice!Remember back when I said that I had 4 months to get ready for my trip? Remember how that felt like a REALLY long time? Plenty of time to procrastinate and STILL have lots of time to get ready.<br /><br />Yeah.<br /><br />Procrastinating sort of dominated the last 3.5 months.<br /><br />Here we are just one week away from departure date. As a matter of fact, my plane to Rio will be leaving right about now next Wednesday night. If I'm as sleepy then as I am now (and the 2 Tylenol PM earmarked for the occasion will ensure that I am) then I will have no trouble snoozing away at least half of the 14 hour flight.<br /><br />I am getting crazy excited to go. The countdown is absolutely on. Especially now that we've entered into Weather.com's 10 day forecast range. So far looks like it's a titch more on the rainy side than my travel brochures promised. BETTER STEP IT UP RIO!! I'm coming and I expect to do some serious sun bathing on your famous beaches. You would be well advised to not disappoint me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwxqS7S3OiaEo_9EImi8dnC8ChwLBcWyi6EnlYk4gq4amyUXMeCNireK59fFDdilfYS26lZBS5Xdnu031ecXoQuhXBDcOrFF7xVA4aKFTGEgzIyN9Fx7JN7M8AIMlZ3vcmJWzMQYKygpA/s1600/weather+in+Rio.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 317px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwxqS7S3OiaEo_9EImi8dnC8ChwLBcWyi6EnlYk4gq4amyUXMeCNireK59fFDdilfYS26lZBS5Xdnu031ecXoQuhXBDcOrFF7xVA4aKFTGEgzIyN9Fx7JN7M8AIMlZ3vcmJWzMQYKygpA/s400/weather+in+Rio.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538128129263549602" border="0" /></a><br /><img src="file:///C:/Users/Gretchen/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" /><br /><br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-86137014919822373512010-11-02T22:18:00.004-04:002010-11-02T23:02:33.078-04:00Some Thoughts While My Beets CookI put some beets in to roast about two hours ago and there they are ... still a-roastin. While I wait for them to be easily piercable, I figured I might as well share some of the random thoughts that have been rattlin' around the old bean.<br /><br />First of all, and while we're on the topic of beets, which I have an unbounded love for, I'm reminded that I also have an unbounded love for buying any vegetables at all from a farmers market. Cooking and eating them I'm not so fond of. But buying! Buying from the farmers market is <span style="font-style: italic;">so</span> satisfying. With any luck I'll actually eat what I bought this week: Wax beans, zucchini, beets, arugula, mesclun greens, and some honeycrispalicious Honeycrisp apples. If not, meh, I can always buy some more next week. I can hardly wait!<br /><br />Second of all, my Halloween weekend was Phenom. I went back to my old stompin ground in Capitol Hill to do my farmer's market shopping before the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear. The rally was great! It was a good old-fashioned DC Crowd Feeling Event. We could hear and see (mostly), the weather was perfect, our neighbors were friendly, and the crowd in general was good humored and unfailingly polite. A finer rally has rarely been had. Plus I got to see Ozzy and Kid Rock in concert ... two things I could have sworn on my dead aunt Ethel's grave would never happen. To tell the truth, I wouldn't have been sad if they'd had more Ozzy and less Kid.<br /><br />The rest of my Halloween weekend was full of parties where I wore my Supergirl costume. It was a pretty awesome costume and a pretty awesome weekend, if I say it myself.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi73YXWYUZBi8Kq5bQpNMgjGfxZU0kLw46alQT2LLzYsik2AW9qb08dpoLh1SauH9_6zckpG0tvja2xzdKicXrSzFBoJUoVHzRXcSpywR7JVaKue1yFu_bFsBI2UVnhXjXddQHpfnB2BQA/s1600/halloween.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi73YXWYUZBi8Kq5bQpNMgjGfxZU0kLw46alQT2LLzYsik2AW9qb08dpoLh1SauH9_6zckpG0tvja2xzdKicXrSzFBoJUoVHzRXcSpywR7JVaKue1yFu_bFsBI2UVnhXjXddQHpfnB2BQA/s400/halloween.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535145500012344210" border="0" /></a><br />I think my beets are almost done, so I have just one more thought before I wrap up. The other day it was just a normal day. I went shopping to get some hiking shoes for my trip. After I got my shoes I was wandering around the outdoor shopping center. I had been craving the shrimp roll at Coastal Flatts for quite some time, so since I was right there, was a bit peckish, and didn't have a reason to not eat an early dinner, I decided to give into my craving. It was great! Diet coke. Cornbread. Fries with salt. All my favorite things! Afterward, not having much on my agenda I decided I'd see a movie across the way. While I waited for it to start, I sat on a sunny bench and read a really great book. As I was sitting there I thought to myself how much I was enjoying my day. And I reflected that I get to have these types of days pretty regularly. In fact, a day in which I get to do all of the things I want to do, and none of the things I don't want to is pretty typical for me. (The stacks of mail and less than pristine apartment alone attest to this fact). I'm pretty lucky that way, and it occurred to me that instead of being jealous or at the very least slightly wistful looking at the couples out enjoying their day, that I was the one that they (or at least someone, somewhere) should probably be jealous of. I don't want to be like, oh I'm so fab and you should think I'm the bee's knees, but I, we, all of us spend a lot of time thinking about the bad parts of our lives or how our jeans don't fit quite the way we want them to, or how we're not part of a couple on a beautiful afternoon and it just gets to be a habit. So it was a nice sojourn for a little while on my side of the fence where the grass is pretty damn green.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-12744893617344503502010-08-26T22:26:00.003-04:002010-08-26T22:51:03.227-04:00Wherein I am TOTALLY SKEEVED OutWhat's it called when you just have to write stuff out to get it out of your system? As like therapy? You know for traumatic events? Is there an official name for that?<br /><br />If there is, then that's what this post is going to be. Because I am traumatized, friends.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">TRAUMA-<span style="font-style: italic;">TIZED! </span></span></span><br /><br />I am still in this weird city of Austin (thank goodness I'm leaving tomorrow I can't handle anymore weirdness!) and well, let me tell you what happened.<br /><br />I went to get dinner at this place that has a bunch of food carts in an dirt parking lot. A taco-like place, BBQ, Cupcakes, and some other stuff. (Including this Vietnam Vet musician dude that drives a truck with a skeleton in the passenger seat and "RIP Ministries" written on the door. This is a weird city.) So I get my taco-y thing --tortilla, chicken, coleslaw concoction-- and a fancy root beer in a bottle. I wolf down my meal and decide to get a cupcake to gorge on in the privacy of my hotel room.<br /><br />So I walk to the end of the strip sipping on my root beer. I order my cupcake and as I'm walking away I start thinking, "I ate so fast I bet I had a bunch of crap stuck in my teeth - ew! Like Totally EMBARRASSING!" So while I walk back to my car I pick my teeth a little bit and suck on them, you know, to get it all squeaky clean.<br /><br />Then I take a drink of my root beer. And there's something crunchy.<br /><br />First thought: "Woah! How did I backwash something this big? I'm not a backwasher."<br /><br />Second thought: "I bet I dripped some of the coleslaw from my taco into my bottle."<br /><br />Third thought: "Dripping coleslaw into a bottle would be hard. AHHH! Must have been stuck in my teeth."<br /><br />Fourth thought: "That's a HUGE thing to have stuck in my teeth! The cupcake man must have been laughing his face off at the enormous cabbage leaf stuck in my teeth."<br /><br />At this point, I decided I needed to examine how embarrassing the Food In Teeth scenario was and I pull out the crunchy thing I'd been chewing while I had all of the above thoughts. And when I pulled it out and looked what did I see?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A BEE!! </span><br /><br />I had been chewing on a BEE! I'm totally skeeved out about it. I'm not alergic, and it definitely wasn't alive when it went in. But still! GROOOOOSSSSS.<br /><br />I bet it flew into my bottle of root beer (attracted by it's sugar cane deliciousness) and drowned a quick death. And then I gulped it in and started noshing away. Blaaaaaa! I want to scrub my mouth with turpentine and a wire brush.<br /><br />I was so freaked out and distracted on the drive to the hotel I ended up totally lost and 20 miles out of my way.<br /><br />I hope my insurance covers Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I definitely need it. BLLLLLAHHHHH!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-86297645775456923252010-08-26T21:56:00.003-04:002010-08-26T22:16:47.771-04:00Two Derbies Both Alike in Dignity (and Awesomeness)Last weekend I went to the Demolition Derby. You KNOW I love the derby, right?<br /><br />I Do.<br /><br />I love it super-duper style.<br /><br />Well. At least I <span style="font-style: italic;">thought </span>I loved it as much as I possibly could. This year's visit included the usual perks:<br /><br /><ul><li>Corn Dogs</li><li>Car Fires</li><li>Mullets</li></ul><br />All of the things I love.<br /><br />But now, I have to add <span style="font-style: italic;">MORE</span> things to this list, because this year we also had a car run THROUGH the jersey barrier and CRASH INTO and COLLAPSE the sound system. And a wheel FALL COMPLETELY OFF of a car, only to later IMPALE another car and kill it. Dead. sa-WEEET!<br /><br />In the world of Demolition Derby it really does not get better than that, friends. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">But why go to one derby in a weekend when you can go to TWO?! </span><br /><br />I had the good luck to go to Texas and while I was there I went and saw the Texecutioner Rockin-RollerDerby Girls final bout. I am the luckiest girl in the world.<br /><br />When the mascot/MC was circling the ring in skin-tight white jeans and a blood stained tuxedo shirt waving a running chainsaw and screaming, "TEXAS! TEXAS!" and we all screamed "KILL! KILL! KILL!". Well, that was when I knew going to the RollerDerby was the coolest thing I could have possibly done with my evening.<br /><br />I *kinda* understood the rules. But I wasn't really there for the rules. I was there for the fights, and the skates to the face, and the costumes. And of course the Frito Pie! I was definitely there for the Frito Pie!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-56927659371104909982010-08-26T21:12:00.004-04:002010-08-26T21:55:53.868-04:00Wherein Heat Stroke Renders Me UnshockableLast Sunday I was spending some time exploring Austin, TX when a couple of weird things happened. For the most part this visit followed the usual weekend-away format:<br /><ol><li>Find the yummiest brunch spot in the city</li><li>Visit something naturey like a park or botanical garden<br /></li><li>See any noteworthy attractions or monuments </li><li>Snack-style lunch<br /></li><li>Walk the streets and get a feel for the people, architecture, etc.<br /></li><li>Boutique shopping in the trendy/spendy parts of town </li><li>Fancy Dinner somewhere fabulous</li><li>Wrap up the night with a film or something unique to the area. Or in some cases veg in the hotel. Depends.<br /></li></ol>Well, I was mid-way through number two on the itinerary when I decided that I was WAY to tired to proceed any further until I'd had a nap. So much for "Get an early start on the day, what! what!"<br /><br />If you don't know me very well, let me just tell you that when I need a nap it is Serious Business. I will generally just lay down wherever I am (as long as it isn't likely that I'll be arrested or get some sort of skin disease) and snooze away. Until I've napped my fill and then I'll just get up and carry on as if nothing had interrupted me.<br /><br />Anyway, I desperately needed a nap. So I decided to drive downtown to my next stop on the tour, take a little nap, and then carry on with the day. So I did. I parked in the shade near the Capitol and proceeded to take an hour nap. And yes, it was 100+ degrees in Austin that day. And yes, I had the windows up. And yes, if I had been a dog my owner would have been fined 2 million dollars and suspended from the NFL. But when I need a nap I don't always think things through.<br /><br />So after about an hour of snoozing in the hot car I woke up. And lo and behold, walking in front of my car was a protest. Fifty or so men and women were marching to get equality for women to go topless. There they were: Men Boobs and Women Boobs strolling by my front window. Just like that. Boobs galore!<br /><br />The weirdest thing about this was how NOT weird it was. Maybe I was just disoriented from my sauna-nap, but as I sat there watching the nipple-parade I was like, "Hmm. Boobs." But I wasn't outraged or grossed out or shocked by seeing women with no tops on walking up Congress Street. As a matter of fact, after I stumbled out of the car and down the street to get a cool soda it was so hot I must admit that stripping to the waist was pretty darn tempting. And despite never having considered that as a cool-down option before I almost did it! When in Rome, right!?<br /><br />But then I got some cold sugary fluids into my system and my reason was restored. And consequently Austin was spared, er, I mean, DENIED that vision.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-90222494389562606932010-08-01T22:44:00.004-04:002010-08-01T23:03:31.455-04:00TIE Count DownI have 4 months to get this bucket of bolts in good enough shape to not die on <a href="http://aofall.blogspot.com/2010/07/wherein-i-have-selected.html">my vacation</a>.<br /><br />The last couple of weeks have been tough. Two weeks ago I started out strong. Working out. Eating well. But then I went to Texas. And however good Texas food is for the tastebuds, is tremendously BAD for the waist line. And the ghetto-ass hotel I was in on some forelorn highway wasn't offering many work-out options that didn't involve death. So there were some setbacks.<br /><br />And then last week, even though I was back home, I had very little success. I went to what was perhaps the most worthless yoga class of my life. And then Chick-Fil-A and I started a whirlwind romance.<br /><br />But now.<br /><br />Now, it's time to get serious. I went to the gym today to do a little circuit weight training and some cardio. And what I learned was that I am a weak, weak, WEAK girl. I need to get stronger, or I will surely die a painful death in the jungles of Brazil.<br /><br />Since shame is the only motivator that has any sway for me, I've added a little work-out widget to my blog. Periodically, I'm also going to update this blog with some of the more gory details. We are all in this together!!<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Time to go from this:<br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK3w6_FweYSOyFcFH4tdZjGsFNzXlOoDjcC6N9WYG0_S6ZuprIw6k6gfa-MWhCNBwJywwk8u6ruGWw_2o59uDU2IKG8_Pl-nPznSmSF2gYliktSBKlqZOXI63lN8Ajwke6tnnBSEo8W3k/s1600/review_jabba_1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK3w6_FweYSOyFcFH4tdZjGsFNzXlOoDjcC6N9WYG0_S6ZuprIw6k6gfa-MWhCNBwJywwk8u6ruGWw_2o59uDU2IKG8_Pl-nPznSmSF2gYliktSBKlqZOXI63lN8Ajwke6tnnBSEo8W3k/s400/review_jabba_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500640916439633890" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">To THIS:<br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcpD7GPUeg1f6-veAIWI_0vTU1_Ls8IWzATo464eVNAMyBzoV4DHwBgZfG2QXCWv3ZgijBLWHSQNhTNGn_jhTmkqPUvoi7Sd5Hm9d4dCi5vaTYtSNhifKL1zOaHxaXEwSMAMG7WoT-yA/s1600/leia.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcpD7GPUeg1f6-veAIWI_0vTU1_Ls8IWzATo464eVNAMyBzoV4DHwBgZfG2QXCWv3ZgijBLWHSQNhTNGn_jhTmkqPUvoi7Sd5Hm9d4dCi5vaTYtSNhifKL1zOaHxaXEwSMAMG7WoT-yA/s400/leia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500641389617895762" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-28805071706114062592010-08-01T19:21:00.005-04:002010-08-01T20:19:43.288-04:00Single Handedly Changing My Morning Outlook<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho06W0-B32KRJGqLK2H9tbWiUb5An5d5W2mKzj5ajszjshCArxhWYftX9rRakWkqauiu9lXdkgal-jkNGIFXJryRNAmkaR-7EZUL1ssB7xXI82P0VmaQkB7wpemxVfan7TmzQcVgkkhS4/s1600/honey+001.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho06W0-B32KRJGqLK2H9tbWiUb5An5d5W2mKzj5ajszjshCArxhWYftX9rRakWkqauiu9lXdkgal-jkNGIFXJryRNAmkaR-7EZUL1ssB7xXI82P0VmaQkB7wpemxVfan7TmzQcVgkkhS4/s400/honey+001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500593800545754530" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Every May I go to the National Cathedral Flower Mart. It's this Medieval festival transported to the twentieth century. Complete with folk dancers, market stalls, and oh, yes, chocolate covered strawberries. DARK chocolate covered strawberries. I love to go to the Flower Mart!<br /><br />I normally don't buy craft or hand-made type items (it's not really my style) but this year I was going a little crazy and was just buying things to buy them. I bought a couple of blouses (so cute, and wearing the hell out of them), some hair clips, two soup mixes (still to be used), and a Mint flavored honey.<br /><br />I wasn't sure what to do with the mint honey. So I started by slathering it on Saltine crackers with a wedge of Laughing Cow cheese. Super YUM!<br /><br />But then, I thought, "hey, I bet this would be delicious in my morning smoothie." AND INDEED IT IS!<br /><br />I gobbled down my Minty-Strawberry-y-Honey surprise every morning. And I was happy to do it!<br /><br />After the honey was gone, my morning smoothie lost a little something. I didn't have that minty-smug secret that put such zing into my walk to work. I tried regular honey. But. meh ... it wasn't the same. <br /><br />Forelorn, I wasn't sure what to do to get back my mornings. But then! I realized that I could probably buy more honey on the Internet. God Bless the Internets!! I blithely bought 3 more herbal honeys: Cinnamon Spice, Lemon Verbena, and more Mint. I cannot wait to mix up the Cinnamon Spice into a PEACH smoothie.<br /><br />SHUT. UP. It's gonna be mega-delicious.<br /><br />Seriously, if a condiment can change a life, this herbal honey is changing mine. It's the little things, friends. The little things.<br /><br /><br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-23231750068359284262010-07-17T17:41:00.008-04:002010-07-17T22:44:35.423-04:00Wherein I Have Selected<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">You guys! I'm SUPER SUPER excited. </span></span><br /><br />You know how I work like a beast these days and don't have any time to do things like cook dinner let alone see my friends or, er, blog? Well, in the few minutes I have been able to carve out for myself over these past few months my favorite pastime has been planning vacations. I'm not talking about the odd weekend getaway. No. I'm talking about a Granddaddy Vacation. A truly epic adventure that will serve one purpose and one purpose only: To get me OUT of incessant blackberrying hell for a while.<br /><br />And so it was. When I needed a break I'd start scoping out amazing vacations. <br /><br />Here were my criteria:<br /><ol><li>Aforementioned blackberry hell = it needed to be international</li><li>I want something active, since I am a desk weenie. How great would it be to come home THINNER from a vacation?!</li><li>I prefer a group so I don't feel so weird about being a solo traveler</li></ol><br />My first plan was to go on a 7 day cycling tour from Prague to Vienna. But I won't be able to go until October or November. Alpine weather being what it is, this could make what sounds really fun really miserable. So while I harbored this as my fantasy vacation for a while I eventually opted to not follow through. I still might do it though ... just not this year.<br /><br />And THEN! Then I found The Island Experience. All of the criteria were met. <span style="font-size:130%;">All of the reviews were raving. </span><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">All of my dreams will come true! </span></span><br /><br />TIE (as I will call it, because the full name is pretty lame) is an "adventure spa" on an island off of Rio de Janeiro. They only have 12 guests at a time so it is very customized to meet everyone's needs. Together we hike the rain forest, sea kayak, yoga, and swim in waterfalls and coves around the island. A nutritionist provides gourmet vegetarian meals (with unlimited fresh produce) and a masseur provides a daily hour long massage. The beach front accommodations are beautiful and in our downtime (what there is of it) can be spent relaxing or doing various activities such as painting. <br /><br />IT SOUNDS PERFECT!<br /><br />There's one little thing ... all of the reviews I read raved but they made sure to mention that the trip was "intense" and all of the exercise, while great, was very challenging. When I described this trip to my friend Jennifer, she said, "So, you're going to Jungle Fat Camp?" And basically, yes I am. But if I can survive it, it will be super amazing. I've got almost 4 months to get in-shape enough to ensure that I don't die on this trip. One reviewer said she participates in 7 hours of gym time a week between yoga, kickboxing etc, and TIE pushed her very hard. But at the end of it she had gained a great sense of accomplishment aaaaaand lost 7 lbs. <br /><br />Sounds like a win-win to me!<br /><br />Now that I've put down my deposit I'm committed and I will have some serious motivation to go to the gym. I think this trip will be a great mix of fun, exercise, nutrition, travel, and relaxation.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;">I really couldn't be more excited about it! </span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-22098707570802848552010-07-12T22:00:00.004-04:002010-07-12T23:26:43.950-04:00Little Mormon, Big World<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDNoPYx9t_4ygYnz46ozsPrELSUqvhSynFrnv_jcAjCgB2TDZnDJw0iak8H9fVF6fi0Vf8qQlFsvMGTopJmaaSYbICiOabG7p_bWvUQZimK-2hyphenhyphenU_FKYBwJnAj0YCIjSdcOyZou_HbTmc/s1600/Singles+Conf.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDNoPYx9t_4ygYnz46ozsPrELSUqvhSynFrnv_jcAjCgB2TDZnDJw0iak8H9fVF6fi0Vf8qQlFsvMGTopJmaaSYbICiOabG7p_bWvUQZimK-2hyphenhyphenU_FKYBwJnAj0YCIjSdcOyZou_HbTmc/s400/Singles+Conf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493226902320632050" border="0" /></a><br />A few years ago I was watching an episode of "Little People, Big World." In this particular episode the teenagers were going to a Little people conference so they could socialize with other little people. And I thought to myself, "man, that would suck to have to go to a conference to meet people. Like, who does that?" It struck me as a very awkward social situation and I felt sorry for those poor kids being forced to attend. I remember feeling very superior and very tall.<br /><br />Well I don't feel quite so tall anymore, because this past weekend I, of my own free will (and some empty threats from Camie), attended an equally awkward conference to meet people. It was a conference for single Mormons in their 30s and 40s. It had the potential to be tremendously painful and exponentially embarrassing. So, being the cautious (aka cynical) lady that I am, I went in with extremely low expectations.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">But it was fun!<br /><br />And I met some cool people!<br /><br />And I laughed a LOT!<br /></div><br />No one was more surprised than I, of that I can assure you. (This low-expectation strategy is really panning out.)<br /><br />Enjoying this event really hinged on being less critical. I think I've definitely mellowed out over the years because now I can just chuckle good-naturedly when I hear people say things like "The second time I took the Bar ... " (vs the fourth or fifth time), "You can call me 'Hey You'," or my personal favorite, "So, enough about Perrier."<br /><br />Awkward? Yes. Weirder than the Little People convention? Eh, it's a toss up. All in all, pretty damn fun.<br /><br /><br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-86670407719191745202010-01-24T20:01:00.005-05:002010-01-24T20:46:57.390-05:00MexcellentLast week ... Was it last week? Maybe it was the week before. Anyway, sometime this month I went to Mexico for work.<br /><br />We had our sales meeting there, and twas amazing. The first night, after getting up at 3AM to fly to Mexico City and then driving for 3 hours on a bus we were as exhausted as possible. So stopping half way to our destination to stay in this hotel was a surprise and a treat!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZiIzeMrz-SG3Sm3OD1M2zXOEE07OlnBQVVR_edDUqvOXwjOhm1EtFAgYNqtZR45Mb4S1m3bqVrBQ2tC3aRFhnn8iM0ncBrLb_75qrkCrLn-ExRAmuAKpQ-Xk-cFN3X3GcJaUAC88mvLg/s1600-h/Puebla.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZiIzeMrz-SG3Sm3OD1M2zXOEE07OlnBQVVR_edDUqvOXwjOhm1EtFAgYNqtZR45Mb4S1m3bqVrBQ2tC3aRFhnn8iM0ncBrLb_75qrkCrLn-ExRAmuAKpQ-Xk-cFN3X3GcJaUAC88mvLg/s400/Puebla.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430479271884218674" border="0" /></a><br />And yes, it was as amazing as it looks.<br /><br />The only downside to this place was that it is all outside - all of the common spaces anyway. Normally this would be fine. More than fine! But apparently the world's weather has gone schizo so it was verry chilly. No me gusta el Frio! Plus I was sick, which was sort of sucky. And then, this dude who didn't know me had to do an introduction of me in front of the entire company and he said that I looked like a 90 year old woman. So obviously, he's dead to me. But, on the plus side, the executives made the hotel staff go out to a convenience store to buy me Gatorade. And I was like, "no, no, no! It's not (cough) a big deal." And they were like, "Gretchen, they WANT to go get you Gatorade. Senor! Get her Gatorade NOW!" It's nice being taken care of.<br /><br />The next day we had some sessions and then, just when our enthusiasm was at its highest we all loaded onto the bus to drive another 3 hours through the mountains to the Rain Forest in Veracruz. Our final destination.<br /><br />I'm not sure if I've ever been in a Rain Forest before, and not surprisingly it is very humid. If it hadn't been 40 degrees the damp air would have been pleasant. As it was ... it was verrry chilly! But when I wasn't miserable because I was chilly and damp and sick it was SUPER fun! We went river rafting, did a zip line, made best friends with the hotel staff, ate some super delicious Mexican food, and had some awesome dance parties. I attribute most of the fun to my awesome co-workers. I really love them. There really aren't any that I don't like (especially now that that one guy is dead to me, he was dead weight anyway). How could you not have fun with people like this:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqwAgzU_7lwuL-6qROFq6w_XvxNqqxgBQjeEET4-FPoQdITTdfBYuSk9hoCzoQ9Y4EcPF1PW2QnfA-4yVGv7T72wubtynHBbrbpgDEaLJ2DbrH92R9-DBh0Du8JVk8iaEPkSc07ajW_A/s1600-h/mexico+masks.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqwAgzU_7lwuL-6qROFq6w_XvxNqqxgBQjeEET4-FPoQdITTdfBYuSk9hoCzoQ9Y4EcPF1PW2QnfA-4yVGv7T72wubtynHBbrbpgDEaLJ2DbrH92R9-DBh0Du8JVk8iaEPkSc07ajW_A/s400/mexico+masks.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430482158132311378" border="0" /></a><br />I loved it!<br /><br />What I didn't love was the bout with Montezuma's Revenge that appeared at 4AM just as I boarded the bus for the return 6 hour bus ride and 10 hours of plane rides. Danger Will Robinson!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeX6YmzSwM6hyphenhyphencfGR1TNe1FT3t5pC0Vo9H5EGKT9F2MH_OgQTe3xa1aOF-jzTIdkS3zg3qLnDd1MFVjLMEMdrk4POmDnyGr9iMoAyr_62QPxCABuduYnUoQZ5pDh-lrEPGKqblacnkdCc/s1600-h/mexico+zip+line.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeX6YmzSwM6hyphenhyphencfGR1TNe1FT3t5pC0Vo9H5EGKT9F2MH_OgQTe3xa1aOF-jzTIdkS3zg3qLnDd1MFVjLMEMdrk4POmDnyGr9iMoAyr_62QPxCABuduYnUoQZ5pDh-lrEPGKqblacnkdCc/s400/mexico+zip+line.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430485072278853106" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">(That's me. And YES I was the first one sent down the zip line. I need to practice my form.) </span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">VIVA MEXICO!</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">P.S. Oh, AND! I almost forgot. We had an awards ceremony and I won the award I've been wanting the most: Rookie of the Year. I won that at my last company. Obviously, my only criteria for my next job will be whether or not they offer a Rookie of the Year award. Hat trick, Baby!<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"></div></div><div id="refHTML"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-18770194957321842832010-01-03T19:57:00.005-05:002010-01-03T21:22:55.397-05:00Mustard Resolves"GRETCHEEEEEEEEEE - breath - EEENNNNNNN!!"<br /><br />Mustard is yelling at me from the Living Room again.<br /><br />I am trying to ignore him because he is watching one of the ubiquitous "Decade in Review" shows, and he's very concerned that A) my decade wasn't as productive as it should have been and B) that I start making preparations STAT to not waste the decade to come.<br /><br />Personally, I think -- and I always think this, so there's nothing new here -- but I think he's full of crap. This decade was chock-a-block packed with excitement. Except for 2007 - that year was totally forgetable.<br /><br />"GRETCHEN! Since you are too old and decrepit to join me when I call for you, you best be preparing yourself for my imminent arrival."<br /><br />Oh great. He's coming upstairs to disturb my peace.<br /><br />"Alright little miss. We've got to have a serious talk."<br /><br />"I already know what you're going to say, so you might as well spare us both the lecture." I respond. Everyday its some new suggestion: Hey, you know what you should do? Bungee Jumping! or Stock Car Racing! or Cliff Diving in Buenos Aires. Mustard doesn't inhabit the same plane of reality that the rest of us do where there are such things as jobs and meals to prepare.<br /><br />"Oh? You think you know, do you?" he counters.<br /><br />"I think I have the general idea," I say while filing my nails. "Perhaps something along the lines of how my life would be so great if I would only start a fight club with the women at church. The details vary, of course, but the absurdity remains the same."<br /><br />"A fight club at church!? THAT IS GENIUS!! Think of the scrunchies flying! The hymnal backhanding alone would be phenomenal! You know those ladies would love to claw each others eyes out every once in a while. Why, oh WHY don't you have the gumption to put into practice things like this?" He gets a sad, pleading look on his face, "You are wasting your natural talents, Gretchen. It. is. a. Tragedy."<br /><br />I shrug and start filing the left hand.<br /><br />"You pain me. You really do," Mustard whispered before pausing to collect himself. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and stoically said, "Well. You are right. That is generally the kind of thing I would be PROUD to see you do. But after almost TEN years together I like to think that I have learned how to work within the confines of your timid little life. And so, I was not going to suggest something awesome like a Brazilian Rainforest Expedition or that <span style="font-style: italic;">amazing</span> fight club idea, instead I was going to suggest that I help you set your New Years resolutions. Heaven knows you need help setting good goals."<br /><br />"My goals are fine!" I say.<br /><br />"Oh really? And what was your New Years Resolution last year?"<br /><br />"Um. To meet straight men?" I smile hopefully.<br /><br />"Exacty. To meet straight men. And how <span style="font-style: italic;">many</span> straight men did you meet this year?"<br /><br />"Like fift---"<br /><br />"WITHOUT counting co-workers!" he cut in. "We're talking about eligbile for dating men."<br /><br />"Oh. Probably like ... well there was ... and ..." I say while mentally counting and discarding. "Let's call it two."<br /><br />"Two? Aren't you exaggerating a little bit? Yes. I thought so. You met ONE. One straight man. And he was a weirdo. Your specialty, so I'm not surprised. But the point remains. You had ONE goal this year and you failed. Miserably. Clearly, someone has to help you. And unfortunately, I, once again, am left holding the bag."<br /><br />"Don't feel obliged to do me any favors, my dear Mustard. I'll have you know that I've already put together my New Years Resolutions. And they are quite good, if I say so myself."<br /><br />"Really?" he raised an eyebrow. "Astonish me."<br /><br />"Well, you know how I got this new job, right? And I've been working my booty off, and not getting anything else done?"<br /><br />"Go on."<br /><br />"Well I've decided that this year's theme will be Balance."<br /><br />"Gretchen. PLEASE PLEASE PLEAAAAAASE say that you are getting a subscription at a trapeeze gym! That takes tons of balance!"<br /><br />"No, moron. That's not the kind of balance I'm talking about." I shake my head. The lad never loses hope, you can say that for him. "I'm going to bring balance back into my life by, you know, having a life? Rather than working 24/7."<br /><br />"Fine. Boring, but fine. I need specifics."<br /><br />"Well, for one, I WILL be better about going to the gym. And I will make my food more often rather than eat out. And I might even start blogging on a regular basis. The key is to take baby steps. I can't be as involved in my hobbies as I used to be. But I'd imagine I could manage to blog about 52 times this year."<br /><br />"Only 52 times? That's only once a week!"<br /><br />"Yeah, but I also want to develop another hobby. And if I'm spending all of my time working and at the gym and making dinner there isn't very much time left for blogging and one other thing, now is there?"<br /><br />"No. I guess not, but it all depends on what that other thing is going to be. What's it gonna be? What's it gonna BEEEEEE?!" Charming Mustard jumped up on my lap and put both hands on my cheeks while he waited to find out. And just like that, my inner resolve crumbled.<br /><br />"Well, I'm not sure yet. I'd like to do something more exciting. Perhaps YOU can choose a <span style="font-style: italic;">safe </span>not too time-consuming or travel requiring hobby for me to undertake."<br /><br />A huge grin spread over Mustard's face and he planted a big smooch on my forehead before hopping off my lap and marching around the middle of the room punching the air and singing, "FIGHT CLUB! FIGHT CLUB! FIGHT CLUUUUB!"<br /><br />Why am I such a softie? A fight club. Geez. Let's hope both Mustard and I get through this year in one piece. That SHOULD be my New Year's resolution.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-58014619737917008322009-12-31T19:03:00.005-05:002009-12-31T20:00:12.381-05:00The Holiday Before The Holidays<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEzKj9sU5fPTYH9Ml3e3XRNP8rzcbCWD9Q142MOmO5yDV8AhElu0R02ngYa3C9MTgVSOx6RrQ2AOqIg45BbKy_ZJaDLjz1noB1VsYbuoNx4SYPE2zMvdntp9V2QjyQdTU7yyjCkIDaMg/s1600-h/Holiday+Mosaic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEzKj9sU5fPTYH9Ml3e3XRNP8rzcbCWD9Q142MOmO5yDV8AhElu0R02ngYa3C9MTgVSOx6RrQ2AOqIg45BbKy_ZJaDLjz1noB1VsYbuoNx4SYPE2zMvdntp9V2QjyQdTU7yyjCkIDaMg/s400/Holiday+Mosaic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421555902582123682" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It was such a great trip, it has taken me almost an entire month to even attempt to tackle blogging about it. Seriously, when you are gone for 15 days seeing millions of new/interesting/humorous things each day deciding how you are going to blog about it is quite overwhelming. Actually, I don't think it can be done.<br /><br />In an attempt to keep this short, and keep the tiny flame called "interest in blogging" alive a bit longer I'll just offer a couple of thoughts and observations.<br /><br /><ol><li>I do not like being places where I don't speak the language. Although everyone in Paris was WAY more friendly in the face of my bad French than I had expected, I really didn't like not being able to communicate. As far as communication strategies go, my "sil vous plait <point>(point point) merci (eye batting) <eyelash>" approach worked well and got me what I wanted (with a few extra treats on the side). But next time, I'm going to rely on more than my High School French to see me through. </eyelash></point></li><li>In Barcelona, we went to see the Sagrada Familia cathedral. Looking at the pictures of this place I didn't think I would like it ... but I LOVED IT! I think what I loved the most about it is that it is still under construction. </li><li>It is a truth universally acknowledged that I need to spend a significant amount of both time and money in Rome. I am starting the vacation day and dollar stockpiling now in preparation. </li><li>Turkey is a surprising place. Rug weaving is way more interesting than it sounds. Shepherds still have full time jobs there. It's Greek ruins are WAY better than Greece's (ironically). </li><li>Egypt has a serious trash problem. </li><li>Egypt also has a serious pushy street vendor problem. </li><li>On Malta (which was the shining star of the whole trip) I decided that I would start a bucket list. So far my bucket list has one thing: Visit the Blue Grotto. </li></ol><br />So, all in all, it was a wonderful trip! Happy to be home, and happy to be heading into a New Year!<br /><br />Happy travels in 2010, everyone!<br /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Sean/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-26705214942091871462009-11-21T21:00:00.004-05:002009-11-21T21:06:51.007-05:00My Itinerary<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOBfbk-On7bXKYh2dVmx8IsqLTWoGHTlJwT79ninIv3Gjf1AKaToWpmbnpcyl3cCS0mwC2xz5PXsA1xYqyPQ0LSGBlB1tTmahrqY5AynL6TLKa_48A7YYTcpIcPEfy0MODTXoWkl7sNM/s1600/Vacation+Schedule.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOBfbk-On7bXKYh2dVmx8IsqLTWoGHTlJwT79ninIv3Gjf1AKaToWpmbnpcyl3cCS0mwC2xz5PXsA1xYqyPQ0LSGBlB1tTmahrqY5AynL6TLKa_48A7YYTcpIcPEfy0MODTXoWkl7sNM/s400/Vacation+Schedule.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406742736635734786" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">My life is about to be AWESOME.<br /><br />Seriously.<br /><br />Be jealous of me.<br /><br />I deserve it.<br /><br /><br />You can be jealous of Mustard too. He's coming along. We will post updates if we are able.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">Bon Voyage! </span></span><br /><br />(PS. You can click on the picture to see it bigger.)<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-16907056961916956782009-11-17T22:18:00.001-05:002009-11-17T22:27:00.105-05:00The Littlest Victim<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgySmnDElt8nEMrMPZcFtI1uACjZXE2d-0kuOT3WCnhHv5kmo89pKPbcg41LuX9ja1BlXrqfrM5d1DKUTD5wTi5u0RjogA1dSEOPs-BVaC_EfOrHoQnAa7CfruNxhL7hkHzItRUZqAUj9k/s1600/Mini+002.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgySmnDElt8nEMrMPZcFtI1uACjZXE2d-0kuOT3WCnhHv5kmo89pKPbcg41LuX9ja1BlXrqfrM5d1DKUTD5wTi5u0RjogA1dSEOPs-BVaC_EfOrHoQnAa7CfruNxhL7hkHzItRUZqAUj9k/s400/Mini+002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405279168171806642" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-495100440265539242009-11-15T22:15:00.004-05:002009-11-15T23:03:56.159-05:00Funny Ha-Ha, or Funny Sad?Thursday night I had a wardrobe malfunction. I had a client dinner, a very important client dinner, and I wanted to look extra nice. So I brought a fancy dress to work to change into before the dinner.<br /><br />Unfortunately, this particular dress doesn't have the most reliable zipper in the land. And I tugged and tugged. And sucked in my ribcage, and tugged some more. But no luck. The zipper stayed stuck about 4 inches from the top.<br /><br />So I asked a co-worker to help. And she tugged and tugged. And I sucked and sucked. But still no luck.<br /><br />A third co-worker joined in the fray. One pulled, one tugged, and I sucked. But still ...<br /><br />Four. Damn. Inches.<br /><br />Finally, I cried uncle. That zipper wasn't going anywhere.<br /><br />With only 20 minute till dinner, I had two choices:<br /><br />1. Run to the mall and buy the first dress I saw.<br /><br />OR<br /><br />2. Fake a sprained or broken arm and keep my left arm pinned to my side for the entire night. (I had a camisole on underneath so it wouldn't have been entirely obscene.)<br /><br />I went back to my desk, a little heartsick. My carefully laid wardrobe plans in shambles at my high heeled feet.<br /><br />And there, at my desk, nestled amidst some sticky notes and a stack of scratch paper I spied my stapler.<br /><br />As I hefted it in my hands I thought, "hmmm. Could I?"<br /><br />I looked at the 4 inches of camisole.<br /><br />I considered the longterm damage staples would do to a silk dress.<br /><br />I shrugged. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.<br /><br />Then, wincing a little, I sucked in my ribcage, and stapled that damn dress shut.<br /><br />Now that I've been stapled into my clothes I expect my luck is over and I'll have to start breaking my heels doing everyday things and have to use chewing gum to glue them back together. Or close ripped seams with multi-colored binder clips. Or, hell, maybe I'll even have to make a mini-dress woven entirely from paper clips. Those are just the kinds of things enterprising city girls have to learn to do, and I've been lucky for way too long.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-84692240142010228842009-11-14T01:00:00.005-05:002009-11-14T01:59:43.922-05:00Wherin I Had No PlansI had nothing special to do last weekend. Which was why I found myself wandering around the National Portrait Gallery Saturday morning, trying to figure out if I don't like portraits (which I don't) and I don't like landscapes (nope) what kind of art, exaaaaactly, do I like (anything modern with lots of color). Fortunately Camie saved me from some serious Art Introspection by texting to ask if I wanted to go to Philadelphia for the wild girls weekend. Our friend Anna had a conference there this week and we thought, Hey! What are friends for if not to share their hotel rooms with?<br /><br />So we promptly got some roadtrip snacks (twizzlers and my new favorite chocolate covered pretzel chips) and headed off with Anna for our Philadelphia adventure.<br /><br />And, boy, did we have many adventures!<br /><br />But the most exciting adventure was stumbling onto the "Parade of 1000 Rockys" at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. There was a boxing ring. There was free cheesesteaks. There was a Rocky look-a-like contest (which sadly we missed). But most importantly, there were free black and gold boxing robes that said, "Italian Stallion" on the back and "Rocky" on the front.<br /><br />You better believe we muscled our way to the front of the line that was giving those robes away.<br /><br />Here's Camie modeling it with her best "You betta watch yo ass, Mr. T" look.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCi_hWikXfuydtKUzBmQOwY9juaQzq1pXlw_cLvirrre4XoS-YGLIZp1ta1p6EvowHGgLOAOTe8DWELKl3a7bLyRg79qabHg1J7C4dQjpP2ALvzvUPh8WZyhLtR8rjoXeQbROC6DvehLY/s1600-h/Philadelphia+002.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCi_hWikXfuydtKUzBmQOwY9juaQzq1pXlw_cLvirrre4XoS-YGLIZp1ta1p6EvowHGgLOAOTe8DWELKl3a7bLyRg79qabHg1J7C4dQjpP2ALvzvUPh8WZyhLtR8rjoXeQbROC6DvehLY/s400/Philadelphia+002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403843079148564994" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We both put our robes on and milled around with the other Rockys at the foot of the museum while we each ate one of the free cheesesteaks. In case you're considering eating a free cheesesteak entirely cooked and assembled on the street and you're wondering how it would taste, let me offer this analysis: It is equally delicious and disgusting. If you don't think about it you could probably really enjoy it. <br /><br />Either way, wearing our Rocky robes at the Museum of Art while simulteously eating a cheesesteak was a very quintessential Philly experience. An experience that could only be topped by wearing a Rocky boxing robe while taking a Rocky-esque picture in front of the Rocky statue. Now THAT is true blue Philly.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkmMRdPxhlxp2Pmwrr9Ce9wbiNTCsAf0X5N21lEBbXVbPXWfl7RKPzz0Ma2pdbPdNwK6Gi-K3Kbf8x4FRVw1TMhOhISRd1z1jWlW8fbJyXWPXvx742Z_39slk1IPf8u64V-84tNjfNvU8/s1600-h/Rocky.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkmMRdPxhlxp2Pmwrr9Ce9wbiNTCsAf0X5N21lEBbXVbPXWfl7RKPzz0Ma2pdbPdNwK6Gi-K3Kbf8x4FRVw1TMhOhISRd1z1jWlW8fbJyXWPXvx742Z_39slk1IPf8u64V-84tNjfNvU8/s400/Rocky.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403846123868327858" border="0" /></a><br />And the best part about it all is that now I have next year's Halloween costume all ready!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7292780878806546878.post-48533929653981513782009-11-02T20:55:00.006-05:002009-11-02T21:36:21.587-05:00Halloweeny TimeMy new strategy for making sure every activity I undertake is SUPER FUN is to have very low expectations going into it.<br /><br />That was the situation I found myself in this Halloween. Tired and worn out after a long and hectic week traveling and working my typing fingers to the bone, the last thing I wanted to do on a misty Saturday night was come up with a cute/clever/cheap costume and go be perky at a party.<br /><br />BLAH!<br /><br />But when you're a single gal livin in the big city, sometimes you just HAVE to go out and have fun. There is no choice. Gosh! My life is super hard sometimes.<br /><br />So Camie helped me brainstorm costume ideas and for 85% of the day I thought I'd go as a bag of jelly beans (clear plastic bag with colored balloons inside). But then I figured it would be difficult to drive anywhere in and even more difficult to drink Diet Coke in. So obviously, I had to nix that idea. And besides I didn't have any of the materials. So at the last minute I decided I'd be a Wind-Up Doll.<br /><br />When we reached our destination I asked Camie to help me to attach my Key, and gave my camera to a very drunk Bryan to take a picture once we were all situated.<br /><br />What resulted was a photographic flip-book of me tying my key on, of me holding my purse between my legs, of me looking behind me to see if that key would stand up straight, etc.<br /><br /><br />This picture is # 15 of 17 taken at 9:35PM.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfMqgW9DYk1YMPr1wrfHMrTt5zZLDgnnnFsJAtOy7PyDzPWVrEhI4fsN3QVTmgV2eAVfKSGy_4E_Abc1PMpW6RyO273tCyDWrei5LswHXhjW_L8Ftbzb2EJYpL3SPFirZf-CQ2ZzLoYc/s1600-h/Halloween+013.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfMqgW9DYk1YMPr1wrfHMrTt5zZLDgnnnFsJAtOy7PyDzPWVrEhI4fsN3QVTmgV2eAVfKSGy_4E_Abc1PMpW6RyO273tCyDWrei5LswHXhjW_L8Ftbzb2EJYpL3SPFirZf-CQ2ZzLoYc/s400/Halloween+013.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399693004744310722" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfMqgW9DYk1YMPr1wrfHMrTt5zZLDgnnnFsJAtOy7PyDzPWVrEhI4fsN3QVTmgV2eAVfKSGy_4E_Abc1PMpW6RyO273tCyDWrei5LswHXhjW_L8Ftbzb2EJYpL3SPFirZf-CQ2ZzLoYc/s1600-h/Halloween+013.JPG"> </a><br />Bryan was, hmm, How you say? Shitfaced? Yes. Yes, that's exactly what he was. It usually takes me a minute to catch on when people are drunk so I was glad when he got to my house, told me the same story 3 times in a row, stage-whispered, "I'm REALLY Drunk!", and then fell down our stairs as we left. That cleared it right up for me.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWPefyrvbNo9FSy7p5SrrTQVtmD7HqZ8IDWsPcBSDRFtb6QM1mrJJ4trsjQKB7apBCE67i-B3YKCH02-x6VDaugcNg8w_c1UnPErCCxmkUyuqG7lOXzrgd9twdYLfFJPcrPGX6yNCWtyc/s1600-h/Halloween+001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWPefyrvbNo9FSy7p5SrrTQVtmD7HqZ8IDWsPcBSDRFtb6QM1mrJJ4trsjQKB7apBCE67i-B3YKCH02-x6VDaugcNg8w_c1UnPErCCxmkUyuqG7lOXzrgd9twdYLfFJPcrPGX6yNCWtyc/s400/Halloween+001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399694754567751602" border="0" /></a><br />But we made it to my other friend Clark's AMAZING Halloween party without any trouble, and promptly started doing The Monster Mash. Clark is reknowned for his Halloween parties. In fact, I'd been thinking I'd throw my own Halloween party this year, but when Clark called to tell me to save the date I immediately cancelled my party and invited my attendees to go with me to his.<br /><br />I mean, any party where you experience the following things is A-OK by me:<br /><br />* A reading of Poe's "The Raven"<br />* A room with a cozy fire where people could talk in a civilized way about uncivilized things<br />* Excellent music including lots of MJ, Lady Gaga and Journey.<br />* Jesus in Sunglasses (I think he was supposed to be The Dude, but it just came off as Jesus)<br />* Snacks GALORE (and good ones too, not just candy. Lil Smokies in the HOUSE!)<br />* A lapdance by a gay cop (I think I brought this on myself since I mentioned that he looked like a stripper)<br />* A guy in a hot dog costume who, good-naturedly, let me call him The Biggest Weiner At The Party all night long<br />* A Kiss from the cutest party crasher at the party<br /><br />That little line up equals PARTY SUCCESS!!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://aofall.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a></div>Gretchenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04178241559633563521noreply@blogger.com1