tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36619211890513210882024-03-05T20:05:47.458-05:00Of Little MyLittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.comBlogger166125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-74677640993666058952023-07-30T11:05:00.001-04:002023-07-31T04:32:58.941-04:00I Watched Barbie and Am Here to Ruin It for All of You*<p><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you plan on seeing the Barbie movie, please be warned that I am about to gut it, exposing spoilers that will sway you in one of two very polarized directions, so do read at your own risk.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIj5xfxw_mGcxf44kqJ3wqRshS-a8FlgRXlFbRSDWOdBGrHS8cd7TA_cKMw3as_uC2iMvd6a66nCigxYge9C756O-8J_AbyDa29HZOh4Y3GO9DcabYuDpBZJ6KHfwOsKPSuzCV4PCnKUTGXUk2QzKSk6eBOChp8jshzvSP6n2DIgSycxRHd2ZExULA8w/s976/ONE.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="976" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIj5xfxw_mGcxf44kqJ3wqRshS-a8FlgRXlFbRSDWOdBGrHS8cd7TA_cKMw3as_uC2iMvd6a66nCigxYge9C756O-8J_AbyDa29HZOh4Y3GO9DcabYuDpBZJ6KHfwOsKPSuzCV4PCnKUTGXUk2QzKSk6eBOChp8jshzvSP6n2DIgSycxRHd2ZExULA8w/w400-h225/ONE.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The advent of the premiere of the Barbie film marked the roll-out of hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of marketing efforts, ranging from enviable candy-coated social media bait, to cringe-worthy attempts at creating relevance that give the term ‘reaching’ an even more humiliating breadth. From Barbie-themed mayonnaise to bank windows displaying posters tempting customers to Speak To A Mortgage Advisor Today, Like Barbie Would! - Every business, big or small, rolled up their sleeves and unanimously declared their support for the premiere of this monumental film. Having fallen through the quicksand of my own FOMO, I even bought a velour Barbie tracksuit to try to look hot for my husband, which caused him to ask me if I’m feeling well at all and what the hell was that on the bed, which in turn caused me to immediately return it. All that is to say I fell for the hoopla, and we went to see the film.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOdVN6VCsWFxj9TBsKdDGwWPC7zZQ3DEfpB7lpxGAI6jmKCQ_goWYzcpKC-Pl3UdETnlGHBE2022aG6yuCU-9QL6pBernwwk1ynp9EQ7NV1XPb_9nYLmMl4czXJ8vTWSkZu49a5WOgPbHHlQxRT38pqY0pQDJrkNn8gWLZOOk0lZ7rjHQC14MVSEIb-M/s1280/TWO.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOdVN6VCsWFxj9TBsKdDGwWPC7zZQ3DEfpB7lpxGAI6jmKCQ_goWYzcpKC-Pl3UdETnlGHBE2022aG6yuCU-9QL6pBernwwk1ynp9EQ7NV1XPb_9nYLmMl4czXJ8vTWSkZu49a5WOgPbHHlQxRT38pqY0pQDJrkNn8gWLZOOk0lZ7rjHQC14MVSEIb-M/w400-h225/TWO.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><p></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Smash the patriarchy” seemed to be a common message among the women digging out pink articles of clothing from their closets to wear inside the pitch black cinema. Incidentally, I have to point out the sea of Barbie boxes displayed at various public places where pioneer patriarchy-smashers posed for Instagram photos, and how that very same Barbie box turned out to be a symbol of oppression in the film. While my own husband climbed into a Barbie box just last week at a Zara, I did enjoy the irony when perusing the inevitable #GirlPower Insta-flood.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Once in the cinema, elbows deep in popcorn, I didn’t know what to expect from the movie but, three minutes into the film, I had a sick feeling that this was going to be boring. I was not wrong.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am going to break down my thoughts on the movie through a series of questions that I am certain no one - not Greta Gerwig (co-writer of the film), not Ruth Handler (the inventor of the Barbie doll) – will be able to answer/contest. Take a sip of air from a pink teacup and let’s go.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">First of all, if we are to buy into the logistics of: Every Barbie feels good in Barbie World because the human girl playing with her is happy, but when the human girl feels crappy, the Barbie feels crappy and at times even has an existential crisis which completely throws her off her game and causes her to enter the Real World in search of said human girl…(okay lol)…then..</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQCB_kVJq_rRims3NsAZozSAo56vxiPV2UOxGMMrCAhlzEZzBLGjHrZUtBleNf09t5wk2zbZYFuO9q4IRq5Fy_sgDuQx3rN638-6eCDQYDrSxL4EVR8wXwtuXcSwIGGs0zvKPEfB9K_beZ4LUCoM0VJjIPF3iefKll9RxwZEfvJDDS_1K2tfjIonHcSbk/s1280/THREE.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQCB_kVJq_rRims3NsAZozSAo56vxiPV2UOxGMMrCAhlzEZzBLGjHrZUtBleNf09t5wk2zbZYFuO9q4IRq5Fy_sgDuQx3rN638-6eCDQYDrSxL4EVR8wXwtuXcSwIGGs0zvKPEfB9K_beZ4LUCoM0VJjIPF3iefKll9RxwZEfvJDDS_1K2tfjIonHcSbk/w400-h225/THREE.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What happens when every girl that has played with every Barbie that now exists in Barbie World grows up into a woman?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And if that woman happens to be depressed, and if depression is as prevalent as it is now in the year 2023, shouldn’t nearly every Barbie in Barbie World be having an existential crisis that leads down the EXACT SAME PATH that our protagonist has gone on?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And yet, ‘Weird’ Barbie (what a euphemism!) tells her that the last time this sort of thing happened was like …ten..twenty years ago? How? How has no one else who has ever played with a Barbie ever gotten sad but for these two times? And are all the Barbies forever controlled by the emotions of the humans that have ever played with them? What kind of Vivarium is this???</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fine. Lets accept that it’s just..that way.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHOWxDz-g1rivdi7D3ASOmM5IEX6zI9_Q3uINh_bR_niMRCTPPPgQf7BrDKVT6hwvkJ0vmByQLNwfAZKyCm5TyyTFKEs_geZ38VTErtz87lnTKO23qIw6_ahgn6AbTiawmwD4NOagLth86fVdQaTY29XrvSwkKbeZMBAN2k1ZYS_zebZ4DM51iotZX8pM/s640/FOUR.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHOWxDz-g1rivdi7D3ASOmM5IEX6zI9_Q3uINh_bR_niMRCTPPPgQf7BrDKVT6hwvkJ0vmByQLNwfAZKyCm5TyyTFKEs_geZ38VTErtz87lnTKO23qIw6_ahgn6AbTiawmwD4NOagLth86fVdQaTY29XrvSwkKbeZMBAN2k1ZYS_zebZ4DM51iotZX8pM/w400-h225/FOUR.webp" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What exactly was going on with all the Kens? I mean, when the Barbies so effortlessly tricked them into fighting each other (despite the fact that they had forged such a rock-solid bond in their Patriarchy Pizza Party or whatever and were JUST ABOUT TO GO REWRITE THE CONSTITUTION) with pastel tennis rackets and toy horses and random crap that does not belong in Barbie World at all. Aesthetically, just what the hell was going on? How did they go from allying to create a new government and overthrowing all of the women (typical) to immediately fighting each other? Even with their hollow, toxic male heads..why was it so easy to trick them?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"> </p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Why did the television sets go from neon pink to, like, real plasma screen TVs displaying videos of horses? I mean, fine, in the story they represented the patriarchy to Ken, but did New Evil Male Dominated Barbie World now mean regular household items also became real? Why? And why was that all so inconsistent?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Why did the Kens break out in a jazz dance a la Newsies meets Rent meets some kind of deviled-eggs-under-hot-sun hallucination…what was that all about? How did that keep with the Barbie theme at all?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Why did Ken break out in a random song while wearing a pimp coat? What did that have to do with anything?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Why did all the Kens look like dusty dudes? Why wasn’t there even one shiny looking one?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At one point, as part of their Patriarchy Ploy, the Kens turn the Simple but Self-Confident Barbies into subservient morons, to put it nicely. Luckily, Barbie devises a plan (see above for how well it worked) and thankfully brings the Barbies back to their confident selves. But..</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If the Barbies have all returned to status quo, why have they suddenly become these ultra introspective beings? Why wouldn’t they have just gone back to their original selves? Where did this new ability for insight come from, and if it came from having America Ferrera’s character remind them of how bad life is for women, why did that imply that these Barbies needed to have their IQs raised in the first place?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In the Real World, things didn’t make much more sense either. The lead Human protagonists are a mother and daughter with a broken relationship caused presumably by the fact that the daughter is in high school now?? I guess?? Like, they never explain why the daughter won’t even let her mom gingerly brush a strand of hair off her face before she climbs out of her hybrid vehicle and stomps off to school. And then when Barbie finds the girl (by having a vision – don’t ask) and tries to approach her at school, a fellow student warns her not to approach this girl because she is Too Cool and No One Speaks To Her Directly…and we quickly do learn that the daughter is, in fact, a bully.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">HMM.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqg3s_fxFOWa6ofBiiTO9l4DzyyIaasB5ZIWE7ymu6hduRKg5K2tEsKkR0RSfRJFcxM6w8kMDnWwGkq7LGuViD-5aiACkJQ17Z5pSmGlaqIZRCEJb5AV5eezd28UsjEMEAoEKRkgWOIpQUeDk8EzfQVg21uKTg22iLzcRWi447TPMZ42WpbPo6qJFY89U/s1296/FIVE.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="730" data-original-width="1296" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqg3s_fxFOWa6ofBiiTO9l4DzyyIaasB5ZIWE7ymu6hduRKg5K2tEsKkR0RSfRJFcxM6w8kMDnWwGkq7LGuViD-5aiACkJQ17Z5pSmGlaqIZRCEJb5AV5eezd28UsjEMEAoEKRkgWOIpQUeDk8EzfQVg21uKTg22iLzcRWi447TPMZ42WpbPo6qJFY89U/w400-h225/FIVE.webp" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, the self-righteous daughter, who has the balls to tell off Barbie for ‘setting women back 50 years’, is actually a real-life asshole…but <i>Barbie </i>is the problematic element in this story because..??</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Also, what self-proclaimed tween would have such a deep seeded hatred for a doll?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Also, why do we never go into the fact that the daughter is a bully? Shouldn’t she have an arc beyond that of “I hated Barbie and then later I liked Barbie and was slightly less disrespectful to my mom although I still snapped at her to GROW UP at the end which still makes me a Grade A Unpasteurized C*nt”..?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What is Will Ferrell’s character? Doll maker who is actually nice guy? Evil man who is stupid and then comes around? What is he?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If Barbie was running away from him and his clan of <span class="s1" style="text-decoration-line: line-through;">Men </span> <span class="s1" style="text-decoration-line: line-through;">Idiots </span> Men in the real world, why was that chase scene so stupid and unrealistic? I get CoMeDy but…what world are we in here?? Or is this like a mish-mash, Elf style? A mish-mash where the ghost of Ruth Handler is just glugging tea on the 17<sup>th</sup> floor and we’re all meant to accept that as Real World Facts??</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally, why did Barbie choose to live in the real world? Why, after spending barely an afternoon in shitty LA, would that life appeal to her more than everything she has ever known, loved, and fought for? What did she learn that was so appealing to her now? Why would Barbie leave her life behind in exchange for a life of gynecology appointments?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Why did that last scene with Ruth Handler last a fucking eternity? Honestly, what was going on? Did someone forget to yell cut? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What was this all about? A fractured relationship between a mother and daughter? What it feels like to be a woman? The hardships women face? Oppression? Women’s rights? Just that men are the worst? Help, I am not sure! I tried to explain the plot to my mom, but could not make sense of it at all. It just wants to be so many things, but isn’t sure how to follow through on most of them.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeCUKbZH6JrT_kVMTbzMain3gigLTtJB1QE94d6f3ERhSfXaHl22HOlfm3EcGLXsh7gXSplF6SecB7pCpp1V3RMFAGixPuG-qx1yfVS_MHB51yYdKq3DYYmih24fSanxvhYQSdCwWua4gLvQXs-jxnzw0KqJqNQKAbES7O8CsmqsNmbf7-MEQqk8RXuk/s1200/SIX.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeCUKbZH6JrT_kVMTbzMain3gigLTtJB1QE94d6f3ERhSfXaHl22HOlfm3EcGLXsh7gXSplF6SecB7pCpp1V3RMFAGixPuG-qx1yfVS_MHB51yYdKq3DYYmih24fSanxvhYQSdCwWua4gLvQXs-jxnzw0KqJqNQKAbES7O8CsmqsNmbf7-MEQqk8RXuk/w400-h225/SIX.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The story as a whole is a steaming heap of confusing ideas, apart from the moment America Ferrera’s character delivers a poignant monologue describing how impossible it is to live with the standards put upon women. It seems the whole film was just quivering in its seat waiting for the chance to blurt it out. I won’t lie, it made me a little emotional, and reminded me of some of the harder parts about being a woman, but this was an idea probably better suited for an op ed piece in the New Yorker, leaving the rights to the Mattel image to a filmmaker who would’ve given Barbie, this colossal figure in our lives, a film deserving of its name. And that’s what sucks about this! You can’t just make..another Barbie movie. That was it, folks.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you’re the kind of person who believes they have done their part to dismantle the patriarchy by handing over $15+tax to those FaMoUs HoLLyWoOd MaTrIaRcHs to see this film, you will, at best, not have an opinion on the storyline, and at worst, hate me, which is something that will certainly keep me up at night. However, if like me, you expect to be entertained by a film you have paid a criminal amount of money to see in the cinema, you might want to look into Oppenheimer instead, which, I’m told, somehow manages to touch on an even more toxic theme.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">*Title adapted from one of my favourite pieces by Lindy West</span></p><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><p><br /> </p>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-35120643249204324532023-01-23T18:04:00.005-05:002023-01-23T18:17:03.883-05:00The Pergola at Dusk<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The last couple of months have been engulfed by the flames of my eternal pressure to find a tropical hotel where we could get married again, but this time with my family there. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVA1Q1WLwxO1FPdW4vjdlBiGY8McSltaaW_Ejc8fehs13KyT5G95i_MEoLnamCG0XCkxQuFPfRVtL-MwfVSEchpiU1nqiuFTxSsmw88boLSuN7I4osjjh2b6PLvKJNbsP7WRYu7B7XjMUR8_nyc8QMiBbZbqKnTVLFb7mUTtbCjmwIudRW6ke6ehet/s1024/beach%20photo.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="1024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVA1Q1WLwxO1FPdW4vjdlBiGY8McSltaaW_Ejc8fehs13KyT5G95i_MEoLnamCG0XCkxQuFPfRVtL-MwfVSEchpiU1nqiuFTxSsmw88boLSuN7I4osjjh2b6PLvKJNbsP7WRYu7B7XjMUR8_nyc8QMiBbZbqKnTVLFb7mUTtbCjmwIudRW6ke6ehet/w400-h200/beach%20photo.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span><a name='more'></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">With some of us demanding the Philippines and others standing firm on their desire to not get bludgeoned in Mexico, we compromised on the Dominican Republic, and I began my search for a five star hotel. I watched YouTube videos, read reviews, cried, and finally settled on one that depicted the least bit of pink hamburger meat in its Tripadvisor photos. Then, it was time to make our wedding arrangements. I sent an email to the hotel’s wedding department and just two weeks later received a response from a man named Fredely Ferrero*. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYW5PZkV5nZsSLs-N7y49d3Brymuu6uast9ECto5omfn4UGBPhnI1CFd6Q_suPFHmcGPEzQGUy3EhOus8Mts0q0VNV9I-UqulFJWR-hxDpPv5N2QjzSmWkaGibbUt3M3zNBRTgC0xV5JWO0cx30_dP3Zeq4g82C_ipQlP58XhvktE0_Nl76kHh7Sql/s700/iberostar-bavaro-suites.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="700" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYW5PZkV5nZsSLs-N7y49d3Brymuu6uast9ECto5omfn4UGBPhnI1CFd6Q_suPFHmcGPEzQGUy3EhOus8Mts0q0VNV9I-UqulFJWR-hxDpPv5N2QjzSmWkaGibbUt3M3zNBRTgC0xV5JWO0cx30_dP3Zeq4g82C_ipQlP58XhvktE0_Nl76kHh7Sql/w640-h480/iberostar-bavaro-suites.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">“I am so very enjoy that you are coming”, the email said. “Let us please you with the following.” He had attached a password-protected wedding pamphlet and when we followed the link we were taken to a page where we were welcomed to request access to..the page. Having requested access, I then proceeded to do what I often do in these situations, which normally leads to a complete loss of an entire afternoon: I looked Fredely up on Facebook. There, I learned that our wedding planner’s nickname was The Pimp, and that he had recently purchased a 2005 Toyota Corolla to which he spoke on several occasions throughout his Facebook timeline. “You’re mine now Baby” marked the beginning of their relationship and were followed by a variety of photos taken from a variety of angles, with its owner’s leg sometimes hiked unceremoniously over its hood or trunk. Friends commented on every photo, with words of encouragement such as “Money makes the pimp” and “The King”, and he, with the dedication expressed in his emails, gave each of them a thumbs up. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibE7oeMV911cwUvvahaeQw8DB2Dg23WaaCWib-7iaEXh-7QMLCXET9PVWnRD4kXQtUtWTRkG6cuRRJw65YrRv1mU4jVstabYoDnOxeJ7EV6ALVqq0pIHCXzquMySuQOem1QziLHjZL3O9_LmezLyH_iOhhXQ9S158KqwrUoRruIHZ7KC8H8-4XDaYg/s3024/Toyota%20Corolla.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1188" data-original-width="3024" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibE7oeMV911cwUvvahaeQw8DB2Dg23WaaCWib-7iaEXh-7QMLCXET9PVWnRD4kXQtUtWTRkG6cuRRJw65YrRv1mU4jVstabYoDnOxeJ7EV6ALVqq0pIHCXzquMySuQOem1QziLHjZL3O9_LmezLyH_iOhhXQ9S158KqwrUoRruIHZ7KC8H8-4XDaYg/w400-h158/Toyota%20Corolla.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was difficult to imagine the divide between The Pimp, with his explicitly torn jeans and his purple car, and the man who provided such elegant customer service as our Wedding Coordinator. I hoped that some of his pimpness would reveal itself in our conversations, but he remained diplomatic throughout every highly anticipated and infrequent response. As we explored our wedding theme options including flowers, colours and whether or not we wanted our celebrant to speak English, The Pimp only replied to us in the evenings. “Bitches love Class” he would post on his Facebook page one afternoon. “May I present to you the options for a Day you will not Forget” would be written to us that evening. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgH31Y5RYIN8m-JkfMylnewvVsKyZtenr1eHiTuhrBxj_8mOStmQ0deknWtKKRWgx0xpsjjUdwE5ji4SLgiXzpViJ1FMd46kxJh6ObSflNG-P5NPCOJbhHjWYceDAYMpzCT2T-I5TdT2I5GejMz4UfPWW8Kl24EhYwXu589vZB7ubMUI8ati8ZhRz3/s1078/46486276_1929965787118121_6384793623686283264_n.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1047" data-original-width="1078" height="389" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgH31Y5RYIN8m-JkfMylnewvVsKyZtenr1eHiTuhrBxj_8mOStmQ0deknWtKKRWgx0xpsjjUdwE5ji4SLgiXzpViJ1FMd46kxJh6ObSflNG-P5NPCOJbhHjWYceDAYMpzCT2T-I5TdT2I5GejMz4UfPWW8Kl24EhYwXu589vZB7ubMUI8ati8ZhRz3/w400-h389/46486276_1929965787118121_6384793623686283264_n.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pimp, redacted</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Unfortunately, we were soon presented with the quote for our extravagant choice, having erroneously opted for an English speaking celebrant and two chairs. It was ten times what we were expecting to pay, and when I inquired about the reason for such a high cost, we were told it’s because we were getting a separate dining area at the restaurant - the restaurant that we were already paying for at the all-inclusive resort. When I mentioned that last detail to him, he responded another week later, saying “My excuses, this is romantic time for you. It cost extra”. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Because we had already booked our hotel by that point and there was no going back, we decided to inquire about lower cost options, and it was then that we were presented with The Pergola at Dusk. The Pergola comprised of four metal poles with a set of wires stretched across the top. I had seen something similar at a Cuban resort a few years ago and had assumed it was the remnants of a communist television station. It stood on the beach night and day and people walked around it with care and apprehension on account of it looking like a radioactive antenna. “You can be marry there but must happen before 8am”, The Pimp explained. Before sunrise, to be exact. My mom suggested that we could maybe decorate this pergola, maybe cover up the spikes and rust stains, but The Pimp quickly warned us that this would also incur additional fees, despite us bringing our own decorations. We asked why but were simply told that this, too, was cost extra. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFodUGPueHS8-OUBzuX_6AGcPEWoGuq9SxAmh_YfbWA_FM2rLOumLUP5iWTUw5ghqOklpYRhe3h2wz72jeZHhlzYIn73UNo6YSiw5QeC1qURyg7ZfcHdsln2E51q1Odw16tX9DIq_4IUNFfQlAk9docUCRPXgouYuchp-U__lY9LhfxaL0-ZsWCU1d/s3840/6021-sea-beach-sunset-dark-dusk-4k.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFodUGPueHS8-OUBzuX_6AGcPEWoGuq9SxAmh_YfbWA_FM2rLOumLUP5iWTUw5ghqOklpYRhe3h2wz72jeZHhlzYIn73UNo6YSiw5QeC1qURyg7ZfcHdsln2E51q1Odw16tX9DIq_4IUNFfQlAk9docUCRPXgouYuchp-U__lY9LhfxaL0-ZsWCU1d/w640-h360/6021-sea-beach-sunset-dark-dusk-4k.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Defeated, I resolved to accept The Pergola at Dusk, preparing to gather my family in the middle of the night, envisioning my mother curling my hair by the light of a candle as my father crawled out of bed clutching his prosthetic hip, and asked to see photos of what a decorated version of this Pergola might look like. To that, another two weeks later, The Pimp replied: “We do not have photos because too dark”. This was when reality became too much to brush off: Here we were, about to put down a deposit for the chance to gather by a piece of structural debris that had no photographic evidence on account of being unsafe for the human eye. We were handing over an arbitrary amount of money for the receptionist to read from a hotel print-out, in a language none of us spoke, with no bouquet, no cake, no music, and no chairs. All of this was going to take place before the sun had risen, so that no one could bear witness to the charade we would have voluntarily taken part in. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqVuOm-q4dH9aqZyceqkhFn9NzWwZTcC-dbxx0bIw7I8iLoCtRel86wrM7jcr0hedeNUhhrHecjg2y1e83j-L-Z61hqgUmhMVsnREiyxxREb_0WPGwROGNEX28CkhZMSaV6PssSaX9Ax7tBAu6UHM0yeRhHI1yl20ljle1DIBnSZ_58dabltHNQKB/s1024/TheSmokies.com-Abandoned-Lift-Fun-Mountain.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="538" data-original-width="1024" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqVuOm-q4dH9aqZyceqkhFn9NzWwZTcC-dbxx0bIw7I8iLoCtRel86wrM7jcr0hedeNUhhrHecjg2y1e83j-L-Z61hqgUmhMVsnREiyxxREb_0WPGwROGNEX28CkhZMSaV6PssSaX9Ax7tBAu6UHM0yeRhHI1yl20ljle1DIBnSZ_58dabltHNQKB/w640-h336/TheSmokies.com-Abandoned-Lift-Fun-Mountain.webp" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Luckily, we snapped out of it, brushed off our desperation, and thanked our wedding coordinator for his time, but said we would be opting for an external venue instead, no matter what the cost may be. “This is so bad,” he replied a few weeks later. We’ll see.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5O5H1MRqAj7ar_ccWJYXs9jWwBpUkxuq3iZu_Ueb5do21rBUav_t74fZdh_S9AA550YpVITsqAG9lWZSieOcHWEae1R5CWOOLQDM6ahBUcGGKePl1J9Sxg4K5JzN-kIP-8nfV_1gEZzBYDL5QXp_qPZx6WFxXxsbuJChv8EWogPMix6ldCU7OdayA/s2048/IMG_4055.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5O5H1MRqAj7ar_ccWJYXs9jWwBpUkxuq3iZu_Ueb5do21rBUav_t74fZdh_S9AA550YpVITsqAG9lWZSieOcHWEae1R5CWOOLQDM6ahBUcGGKePl1J9Sxg4K5JzN-kIP-8nfV_1gEZzBYDL5QXp_qPZx6WFxXxsbuJChv8EWogPMix6ldCU7OdayA/w640-h428/IMG_4055.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>*Name slightly altered to respect privacy</div></div><p></p>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-15004273817581277902022-03-02T09:18:00.007-05:002022-03-02T09:22:51.138-05:00January and February: An Eel, Tortellini<p>A few weeks ago, I was walking to the hospital for a physiotherapy appointment. It was a dry day, and I was walking by a canal. I was on the phone with another hospital about an MRI scan when I saw a large eel. Believe me, I don't want to talk about this any more than the average person.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOnefJLTmrz-0_tNrWLSv_ZruZb7xDF1yPVYqktNr2H1xfxqoYjqh9XSX2eU3Kar-m_g8EO_AHMLoHtDR4as5iM1f_N65Onf7xEW-o8LX5wreJJJFQjrsv9OiBj3W9oTBwmrjXTgtNQWsASwJwCSDUriGqNorbUCIbtApfnguBWRCQEndjibxv8k49=s768" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="327" data-original-width="768" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOnefJLTmrz-0_tNrWLSv_ZruZb7xDF1yPVYqktNr2H1xfxqoYjqh9XSX2eU3Kar-m_g8EO_AHMLoHtDR4as5iM1f_N65Onf7xEW-o8LX5wreJJJFQjrsv9OiBj3W9oTBwmrjXTgtNQWsASwJwCSDUriGqNorbUCIbtApfnguBWRCQEndjibxv8k49=w640-h272" width="640" /></a></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was long, transparent, and had a thick girth to it, like a lime green jello snake. I told the nurse that I had to go, hung up, and approached the eel. It lay motionless. The water bank was two sidewalks and a crosswalk away. How did it cross the road? Why did it make this decision at all? Was it following someone? I never got the answers to these questions, and weeks later - today, actually - I walked by that same place, but it was gone. I've been thinking about it almost every day. I've asked everyone I know if they have ever seen an eel like this, but nobody seems to know just what the fuck I'm talking about. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjB6rw3MGIeGUV9AFJubK2Vvz-lNqk_wQQct7KOxnnn7nAm0Z_dXe0WUujpcomqFsMDGrhxW7z4iO4sEvqeox0w0kgOzX6L2cYHWR7QhgquwbRNg-rkUuU7oeUPg3Rk3j_K2SrCqnJcRVKucoCnx2HaMTuGc-H9YxQysrLzZWB3AzBrCz2WtS7WDKDI=s3968" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3968" data-original-width="2976" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjB6rw3MGIeGUV9AFJubK2Vvz-lNqk_wQQct7KOxnnn7nAm0Z_dXe0WUujpcomqFsMDGrhxW7z4iO4sEvqeox0w0kgOzX6L2cYHWR7QhgquwbRNg-rkUuU7oeUPg3Rk3j_K2SrCqnJcRVKucoCnx2HaMTuGc-H9YxQysrLzZWB3AzBrCz2WtS7WDKDI=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This year, for Valentine's Day, Jeff and I decided to book dinner at a small hole-in-the-wall type of Italian restaurant which boasted a small 'mama's kitchen' with seasonal dishes and only rave reviews. When we walked through the little door, the owner shook Jeff's hand and directed him to his table. As I took my coat off, he asked Jeff what he would like to drink, and when Jeff suggested that his wife would take a look at the menu first, the owner nodded at him and walked off. He then returned, holding a phone in his hand. He read us (Jeff) the specials of the day, and when I asked why the beef ragout was crossed off the menu, he slid his phone across our table and pressed play on a video that had been paused. It showed him, accompanied by construction workers, walking through the restaurant covered in rubble and glass. Sunlight shone on to the shards that remained in the door frame. "There was a break in last night," he explained, "So there is no beef ragout." We raised our eyebrows in polite shock. "They no take money or wine," he continued, then walked off, leaving us with the only logical conclusion that the thieves took all of the beef ragout. Moments later, he returned, adding "But we have a heart-a-shaped-ah tortellini instead". We agreed to the tortellini and ate our meals watching him approach each table, phone in hand, met with wonder, shock, and empathy from couple after couple. It had been raining all week, which made the story even more confusing, and for the rest of the evening we tried to understand the point at which the story stopped being plausible. When we asked for the bill (having refused dessert), the owner replied:"You have a somewhere to be?" We said yes, leading any normal person to believe we were incredibly horny, were that normal person not to realize that our favourite baklava shop was closing in just fifteen minutes. Back home, we had peppermint tea and baklava, and Jeff told me not to ruin the moment when I asked, for the millionth time, if the entire story had been a facade. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZZnWpUf3o9LcxfWFTb9195aSH0fOuhOBqZX45RhQP0dotD20B_OvAh2kVU7HBC8RvbsZ5Ve_x6Oc4rY4DW9FnGrznegmvNs5DGRKO5WUH_uGvXUVnNal3GAcCR4AjN6_A10MNbpHoqeZ-cs7OQhzVCjtwSimtOQNQKXa4Drp8Mo3lCqTpD0reojQN=s3968" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3968" data-original-width="2976" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZZnWpUf3o9LcxfWFTb9195aSH0fOuhOBqZX45RhQP0dotD20B_OvAh2kVU7HBC8RvbsZ5Ve_x6Oc4rY4DW9FnGrznegmvNs5DGRKO5WUH_uGvXUVnNal3GAcCR4AjN6_A10MNbpHoqeZ-cs7OQhzVCjtwSimtOQNQKXa4Drp8Mo3lCqTpD0reojQN=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-31391587015264896602021-12-31T08:14:00.001-05:002021-12-31T08:47:47.366-05:00The Year in Review<p> In 2021, I started making an effort to blog every month to make sure I was making the most of my time. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhrpBDnsq-65DUjVZZE6FlyPvglabCmNdEJ0JoBsGtYDs5U6XiFkVTJ0RLGQtpIdRaCUbgf6rSYkVLxFA92dvMemuRnd1nUDwiZG3ih1EqplPEgbgfVA9wnCZW5U8PChq7TXNjrz-dNO98x_Orak1es9U7wRz_TW3GQ4gU21cqPB_h_WtkI4lQBY8uI=s640" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="464" data-original-width="640" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhrpBDnsq-65DUjVZZE6FlyPvglabCmNdEJ0JoBsGtYDs5U6XiFkVTJ0RLGQtpIdRaCUbgf6rSYkVLxFA92dvMemuRnd1nUDwiZG3ih1EqplPEgbgfVA9wnCZW5U8PChq7TXNjrz-dNO98x_Orak1es9U7wRz_TW3GQ4gU21cqPB_h_WtkI4lQBY8uI=w640-h464" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><br /></p><p>I didn't want the days to pass me by, which can be increasingly easy in a pandemic especially, and I wanted to hold myself accountable for the year, to look back on it with a sense of achievement - if not for actual achievements every month, but for the effort of..making an effort.</p><p>The highlight of my year (life) was marrying Jeff. I can't believe how lucky we got with the restrictions, in that there weren't any :P and no masks in Copenhagen. Instead, we got a blissful few days of being in our little bubble of excitement to get everything ready, getting married, not being too cold to take wedding photos outside in a dress (!!!!), no rain, and eating cake with reckless abandon. It was perfect. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjt8_ibfDqMi0bOooe-B6D8hSoEF2ts2dMtw3__Z6ISrghoWovz2awMl1LiSwHOI5Uwei0pA3qppfRHRdf8XwwkwVPfT2ckUvj_MkFCeMYdA6VrUnBrohklJRupqe0bCtZ0ibrxmuNerJYYM42WHkD_c2CPuI1keaYGhNzSluFGh5lqhr6YuGumQLAm=s3968" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3968" data-original-width="2976" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjt8_ibfDqMi0bOooe-B6D8hSoEF2ts2dMtw3__Z6ISrghoWovz2awMl1LiSwHOI5Uwei0pA3qppfRHRdf8XwwkwVPfT2ckUvj_MkFCeMYdA6VrUnBrohklJRupqe0bCtZ0ibrxmuNerJYYM42WHkD_c2CPuI1keaYGhNzSluFGh5lqhr6YuGumQLAm=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Looking back on the past year, it was disheartening to see how many months were taken over by my stupid injuries. I am really hoping - for 2022 - to get to a better place. </p><p>This year, I swam in the ocean, learned how to highlight my own hair, made my own shawarma that somehow tastes better than the stuff you buy from the legit shawarma places, had an incredible time in Tallinn with my hubby, ate a real cake here in Dublin (don't get me started on what I consider a real cake but it was pistachio mousse and strawberry and oh my gawd), visited my family in the fall and checked out Toronto and Montreal, and successfully went a month without dairy or sugar. You know what, all things considered, I killed it this year.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwcHrBVOn1RlXKnb_1bGTO5sNp8vudKnifkGMviZPXbsI1LhRkTNt3hvdHz66xdojxMRXUbM0Pz-D2VoY1bIS67vcllUI_cc59_oR3UnaOfYbuL8GX-EXI-w4j7qofxrZ_gSOzG2CVXwvH9s1Gmj2QUClEOBRq28SbVabFTYT1BMziH_WecJW3j6Dt=s3968" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3968" data-original-width="2976" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwcHrBVOn1RlXKnb_1bGTO5sNp8vudKnifkGMviZPXbsI1LhRkTNt3hvdHz66xdojxMRXUbM0Pz-D2VoY1bIS67vcllUI_cc59_oR3UnaOfYbuL8GX-EXI-w4j7qofxrZ_gSOzG2CVXwvH9s1Gmj2QUClEOBRq28SbVabFTYT1BMziH_WecJW3j6Dt=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>Lastly, the year has taught me that I can handle whatever comes my way. </p><p>Also, I got to meet Baby Howl. He likes croissants and mayonnaise. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg83WIg9jyCG5EAGkbtWEta37v0hhzGWzP9fFBa4sBVlP1-hb5P4uaj88E2hZDW4w-e7oquCOJRn2jfJ2P3GyQvfDSFjy4c93p5mh3Q0E_u8hVc76EG914-hDx3XADQ0Xkfo_7UZpe12nfiz28-KAI0BE-BFdI0UFRV0SA1Nr7rgTNr1y58nam7M0WZ=s3968" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3968" data-original-width="2976" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg83WIg9jyCG5EAGkbtWEta37v0hhzGWzP9fFBa4sBVlP1-hb5P4uaj88E2hZDW4w-e7oquCOJRn2jfJ2P3GyQvfDSFjy4c93p5mh3Q0E_u8hVc76EG914-hDx3XADQ0Xkfo_7UZpe12nfiz28-KAI0BE-BFdI0UFRV0SA1Nr7rgTNr1y58nam7M0WZ=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-16467832452500176092021-11-30T13:24:00.005-05:002021-11-30T13:24:55.742-05:00November: We Got Married!<p> On November 6th, the day after our sixth year anniversary, I married my best friend. </p><p><br /></p><p>This is the best part of my November, of my year and I guess, so far, of my life :)</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkBy0RqvuXC45eo9m3hVVqpTXHwQKi1gY6vcuznkSPqHcLcjZmjc9eHfZJyhZfumqf2lJs6botYW5QkQ1KQLVD4ZulCBaENH9AipxaE6t3KaF7LI-u7Q8CPYmx1XOXGZy4YCiZr8wD250/s1984/IMG-20211130-WA0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkBy0RqvuXC45eo9m3hVVqpTXHwQKi1gY6vcuznkSPqHcLcjZmjc9eHfZJyhZfumqf2lJs6botYW5QkQ1KQLVD4ZulCBaENH9AipxaE6t3KaF7LI-u7Q8CPYmx1XOXGZy4YCiZr8wD250/w480-h640/IMG-20211130-WA0003.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>Whether I'm telling it to the world, to a few friends, or to a cosmic internet void, I'm really looking forward to writing about our amazing day, and will do so in the coming weeks!</p>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-81549256885516363692021-11-02T06:53:00.000-04:002021-11-02T06:53:34.359-04:00October Roundup<p> This October, we got to visit Canada! My work was very accommodating and let me work remotely, and Jeff joined me when he could, and we had the best weather ever.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVp8Dg-dlZBYFW4PPc4_Imdzu_zaUeg4SUHmr3QKL_g5o12U_nC7s7elkXFoXVMk9670KMPB6g16sGto8e99QcGBNAZKL82ZAetPT1K_sLzB7THQUdRWIERfUzL6NBO8Cqf0DkyzZndsc/s1984/983f3f7a-281d-44d6-aa8b-f903ca11f585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVp8Dg-dlZBYFW4PPc4_Imdzu_zaUeg4SUHmr3QKL_g5o12U_nC7s7elkXFoXVMk9670KMPB6g16sGto8e99QcGBNAZKL82ZAetPT1K_sLzB7THQUdRWIERfUzL6NBO8Cqf0DkyzZndsc/w480-h640/983f3f7a-281d-44d6-aa8b-f903ca11f585.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><span><br /><br />I met Jeff in Toronto and we spent a few days walking around different neighbourhoods to get a feel for where might be nice to live, if we ever decided to move there. Of all the places we saw, my favourite was the morning walk outside our airbnb condo building, past a little row of houses where the laneway was covered in autumn leaves, down to the San Remo Bakery. This is in Mimico, a place I had never been to, and this suburb has a really cozy, quiet feel to it. Every morning we'd get massive deli-style sandwiches, the world's freshest donuts (and the best apple fritter I've ever had), and ,Jeff would grab us "two double creams" at Jimmys Coffee next door, which is how he thought we call a coffee with two creams.</span><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjccLctY_y_HHi4ZZYLFcmIx5JHYQpEcSem6gcXooLFeCkeyFUpoRRYOeFRldrVmoekTnbC3CQlZHgYv6FHYQ8G-1jLYkxFurk7v2leTmQ6AKkY_uTYWPRLW6THOx2nlAeLlvwvWP8WWeo/s2048/IMG_5536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjccLctY_y_HHi4ZZYLFcmIx5JHYQpEcSem6gcXooLFeCkeyFUpoRRYOeFRldrVmoekTnbC3CQlZHgYv6FHYQ8G-1jLYkxFurk7v2leTmQ6AKkY_uTYWPRLW6THOx2nlAeLlvwvWP8WWeo/w480-h640/IMG_5536.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhqv6mBm6EDUs7yvU-MvJOvzMszuJW_9k04GaWafxYnzrEciB9c9uOphRrI6sWqwrWIj3mAVcJaLlFNxiTYwsnUWneH3lnaoDN3c6Kil52_ObEzQX1lBMVbsteLnfoqHRngQquk3lXsQ/s2048/IMG_5537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhqv6mBm6EDUs7yvU-MvJOvzMszuJW_9k04GaWafxYnzrEciB9c9uOphRrI6sWqwrWIj3mAVcJaLlFNxiTYwsnUWneH3lnaoDN3c6Kil52_ObEzQX1lBMVbsteLnfoqHRngQquk3lXsQ/w480-h640/IMG_5537.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /> </span></div><div><span>Toronto seemed massive, and the skyscraper clusters gave me anxiety at times. Still, the people were so, so lovely, so funny and nice, and very welcoming. It's also catastrophically expensive, and everything has a really strong 'pop culture' vibe, whereas I'm more used to small-town cheesy stuff. For example, there wasn't one tacky fall fair in sight, but there was a 'fall pop up' at a bar late at night, with a line up of about 300 people outside. With that being said, one morning, we went to an autumn market in the Distillery area, and ate the most silky, creamy pumpkin pie. I'm still thinking about it.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmlMGjef2OUYsFkOBq9k5TlRoY50YIhjqY78IUCrAt7XUN6sHKyiGKXdrfrbvNqIEORqqTbLvj3KOT_W7HZXJ18CSDF-SRdPgL-AduP-PK99YFE7U7AsqoIgWdT7EUQGcPIObaAXdaEk/s1984/e6be2e2c-4e3f-4bb1-9839-a7d960fc5243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmlMGjef2OUYsFkOBq9k5TlRoY50YIhjqY78IUCrAt7XUN6sHKyiGKXdrfrbvNqIEORqqTbLvj3KOT_W7HZXJ18CSDF-SRdPgL-AduP-PK99YFE7U7AsqoIgWdT7EUQGcPIObaAXdaEk/w480-h640/e6be2e2c-4e3f-4bb1-9839-a7d960fc5243.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG0Pdtx3SugHWrfFMAGT0ecTQ9H2SSIbHmL0m3SYttk3MmOKvmu5_PejISJbxYr11JXTjnVnouBz7dGMP9MxoENzBgAD_jDC8pfDE4_hd1iDFXYZZHnjVSbku7jaEbOeXXfwgixtPqsd4/s2048/IMG_5566.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG0Pdtx3SugHWrfFMAGT0ecTQ9H2SSIbHmL0m3SYttk3MmOKvmu5_PejISJbxYr11JXTjnVnouBz7dGMP9MxoENzBgAD_jDC8pfDE4_hd1iDFXYZZHnjVSbku7jaEbOeXXfwgixtPqsd4/w480-h640/IMG_5566.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3IT9iN3h5oZMeISCojq8j1O_zxx-DeNO93wY5YCzTeMyYd0IN-zV4quAmCmlq5MiiZvS42DdnPS57kSBPR43QK0qoZVvBgjjpPYUvW8jqv7GOCaQQUY43VlkX2e55VnJbBudi0VO1SU/s2048/IMG_5567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3IT9iN3h5oZMeISCojq8j1O_zxx-DeNO93wY5YCzTeMyYd0IN-zV4quAmCmlq5MiiZvS42DdnPS57kSBPR43QK0qoZVvBgjjpPYUvW8jqv7GOCaQQUY43VlkX2e55VnJbBudi0VO1SU/w480-h640/IMG_5567.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCdpvbVdEw-CJFawIQQ4Nl1zamq1tYD3msKFBQ9SotV79tI2K-7DE3rk0Ywx8RBnpqt3OQjnaJoarOt0e8-ufrmuXvYjUVwyhH5tj4t518HvX0P45yL3yOKQxpw5Og-HU47_jKmvxd5k/s2048/IMG_5568.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCdpvbVdEw-CJFawIQQ4Nl1zamq1tYD3msKFBQ9SotV79tI2K-7DE3rk0Ywx8RBnpqt3OQjnaJoarOt0e8-ufrmuXvYjUVwyhH5tj4t518HvX0P45yL3yOKQxpw5Og-HU47_jKmvxd5k/w480-h640/IMG_5568.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyoWa53-W1mFF9n3kxlPWxhHzjyK77ltBsMU-4ACEIANcJAGIe3Np8b_UES8Dx3Vw-gFKbcfUN5BToFjYigoGw3wB5ZF2QQKVg2qOpNmIMDcU4gyBI8zJRDa8iI2RZ4k0witmratDtOg/s2048/c075e726-40dc-4181-a56d-d53a3af8fbde.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyoWa53-W1mFF9n3kxlPWxhHzjyK77ltBsMU-4ACEIANcJAGIe3Np8b_UES8Dx3Vw-gFKbcfUN5BToFjYigoGw3wB5ZF2QQKVg2qOpNmIMDcU4gyBI8zJRDa8iI2RZ4k0witmratDtOg/w480-h640/c075e726-40dc-4181-a56d-d53a3af8fbde.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Any jet lag??</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg49J35sHeJv8VfEwgvIMwpayjNFK2g-4JI0IO_8EPMxglWulhFDTY5O_anu0AjE8fqMbbEiN5GEV_a6obfsggdCrMW8LM_kfDYFMhHqHYunT0CxBmPugcklHlFgq8oH5163-R167kGIY8/s1984/1b7c73ca-0b64-43b6-bda9-477016180707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg49J35sHeJv8VfEwgvIMwpayjNFK2g-4JI0IO_8EPMxglWulhFDTY5O_anu0AjE8fqMbbEiN5GEV_a6obfsggdCrMW8LM_kfDYFMhHqHYunT0CxBmPugcklHlFgq8oH5163-R167kGIY8/w480-h640/1b7c73ca-0b64-43b6-bda9-477016180707.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a Dwight Schrute pint glass at Jack Astors (where our chicken strips came to eighty five million dollars lol)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzDN8gddOV2z2i5wQsxKS1dM4KOxbsiDb103HYeHnGD3_RhIzeQI9hQjfaa4GDY4caP6L08-KfLz_pz2z6zFUjY55yAymbngobWaLwOLFI1VkNhPPt28sXYK87napShK5gK1nvw6Zb5zY/s1984/4dc759dc-d343-485c-a461-9e5930244a80.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzDN8gddOV2z2i5wQsxKS1dM4KOxbsiDb103HYeHnGD3_RhIzeQI9hQjfaa4GDY4caP6L08-KfLz_pz2z6zFUjY55yAymbngobWaLwOLFI1VkNhPPt28sXYK87napShK5gK1nvw6Zb5zY/w480-h640/4dc759dc-d343-485c-a461-9e5930244a80.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You KNOW we went for Ethiopian food ;) AND JEFF ATE THE LENTILS</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnB0WlWd3Qg30viAgi_SK1Zj5RfgBwYHKd2N3rjAJnFbOydyqySbDrlJBwnuXoXVzU5UzCOUsx6UJgMW4wTEafoNBsNUbxtUcHI47q3STyavEQiQ0PQqEwqYx1eU07qxHYJsAXn4gzlXQ/s1984/76debca9-25df-4c3b-95e4-fe7d71c4e5df.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnB0WlWd3Qg30viAgi_SK1Zj5RfgBwYHKd2N3rjAJnFbOydyqySbDrlJBwnuXoXVzU5UzCOUsx6UJgMW4wTEafoNBsNUbxtUcHI47q3STyavEQiQ0PQqEwqYx1eU07qxHYJsAXn4gzlXQ/w480-h640/76debca9-25df-4c3b-95e4-fe7d71c4e5df.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A perfect Guinness at the ever-so-grim Galway Arms Pub in Mimico lol </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBsMzbbP_v6m9kf9yqPCKYdLFI0Mknu125nSp74CiOWJfrYNL7JBJ5mP-MbUNpN2oDVrvwtRrRDyvsE6Stn7EQhwMEUbNmdMNh6pZ9DlzpDr2nZtnPhoBdj9kOxZc5csg2y7U2AYNxFNg/s1984/90c8cec4-f87e-4e3e-b2f6-ccc37dc4c09c.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBsMzbbP_v6m9kf9yqPCKYdLFI0Mknu125nSp74CiOWJfrYNL7JBJ5mP-MbUNpN2oDVrvwtRrRDyvsE6Stn7EQhwMEUbNmdMNh6pZ9DlzpDr2nZtnPhoBdj9kOxZc5csg2y7U2AYNxFNg/w480-h640/90c8cec4-f87e-4e3e-b2f6-ccc37dc4c09c.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An intricate display at the weed store</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>One afternoon, we walked along the waterfront, which was somewhat less claustrophobic. I don't understand how people don't see the landscape pollution of big buildings. I can't imagine feeling cozy with three hundred floors stacked above me, and two hundred below. I just don't understand how people reconcile those thoughts, but then again, I'm ancient at this point, and maybe this is a young person thing lol</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMdgxpZRULw855LwVW_SI4UN1MrTv0iccHOw5-HvjQLDLTVdcT7Ue5UKiVbSigWtO9tcUl6dFQsOlv68TBOE6mYnciuI-ZRXdKJ25NLPcowi2miTh2eqHHFWdqaJMUAQmBAlutxhfecw/s1984/2ed080db-46de-431a-86b7-1eb28adb642a.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1984" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMdgxpZRULw855LwVW_SI4UN1MrTv0iccHOw5-HvjQLDLTVdcT7Ue5UKiVbSigWtO9tcUl6dFQsOlv68TBOE6mYnciuI-ZRXdKJ25NLPcowi2miTh2eqHHFWdqaJMUAQmBAlutxhfecw/w640-h480/2ed080db-46de-431a-86b7-1eb28adb642a.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-FV55FKta2ZCi5zPvd5k0wE9xdc4aiMskjLnGJsMs6KhXxmmjX8pbLBUSLH1RkFitUB5CS9MN1Q8ocl0zddx2BZvKp2H4NXw0VIQm2K-Mu_hqzbHMSqdQVvbNgzYM1mICyZSg5CJdyZQ/s1984/53bf5e66-19b3-4cf2-b676-43c31eba772a.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-FV55FKta2ZCi5zPvd5k0wE9xdc4aiMskjLnGJsMs6KhXxmmjX8pbLBUSLH1RkFitUB5CS9MN1Q8ocl0zddx2BZvKp2H4NXw0VIQm2K-Mu_hqzbHMSqdQVvbNgzYM1mICyZSg5CJdyZQ/w480-h640/53bf5e66-19b3-4cf2-b676-43c31eba772a.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Mwnl6LpKy1beZRRmfb1AU3YEs0pCDWVYFrIgW5q9JsMA3syWp6CQ6_OnwsNPH890I_jDH5QDogvaNSRyfb64xhTetlmzTHL8RhkhKev_quV7YqwGK5nlPqW5AM-uDsfxtkYlIxryiHk/s2048/IMG_5541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Mwnl6LpKy1beZRRmfb1AU3YEs0pCDWVYFrIgW5q9JsMA3syWp6CQ6_OnwsNPH890I_jDH5QDogvaNSRyfb64xhTetlmzTHL8RhkhKev_quV7YqwGK5nlPqW5AM-uDsfxtkYlIxryiHk/w480-h640/IMG_5541.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmxcxBan2mGRpSdhmqiIvNCwsp1jqoBCgxISjTplqyycKlYxMTiyILYbRRtKhCKFBoMF11onxxpXuUjrX0Bo348RPX76XNbZQ6X07QTKS3i8vS3D_1PuSxnEmP4T29s4ei_wkch39nXc0/s1984/739a5a76-162d-4b0b-ade2-62d1e5587229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1984" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmxcxBan2mGRpSdhmqiIvNCwsp1jqoBCgxISjTplqyycKlYxMTiyILYbRRtKhCKFBoMF11onxxpXuUjrX0Bo348RPX76XNbZQ6X07QTKS3i8vS3D_1PuSxnEmP4T29s4ei_wkch39nXc0/w640-h480/739a5a76-162d-4b0b-ade2-62d1e5587229.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Union Station - a very romantic spot to meet </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><span>Jeff's one and only goal was to eat a Slayer Burger, partly because he loves Slayer, and partly because it's a burger made with foie gras and wagyu steak meat, in a charcoal bun, with some kind of fancy cheese in it too. No need to talk about how expensive it was - the point is Jeff loved it. While he waited for his burger, I dipped out to good old A&W and got myself a Mama Burger meal and quite frankly, I was in heaven.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg49BmBEny56L0si-SPn92lBRoRft6UPgk1ku3sEV24IVkxd9p2yXbrvapRrvSGSiqHK5Z37qtjOpGkzVZfLHo2DQZav-pafeInC1p5MH096L3ZRGKQ-wg1O8u5I9bbmPJWgMJPFtvQAsQ/s1984/145c7572-47b2-4995-a955-63682f27bc81.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg49BmBEny56L0si-SPn92lBRoRft6UPgk1ku3sEV24IVkxd9p2yXbrvapRrvSGSiqHK5Z37qtjOpGkzVZfLHo2DQZav-pafeInC1p5MH096L3ZRGKQ-wg1O8u5I9bbmPJWgMJPFtvQAsQ/w480-h640/145c7572-47b2-4995-a955-63682f27bc81.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Slayer burger lol</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span><br /></span></div><div>One of the best parts of my little weekend trip was getting ready for it in Ottawa. I printed my boarding pass:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTll27fpMdD41437Dmz9mHGVaKXHQBwxeoyXrjQS5apA0lnHrzF_O_2OpClWlVsFSTBBEes8H5HrF4J2wJCio1wa4BV5ktY68ZzOIl11G8gkgfA-id3as-dF_U2hXk3UOA9D8rsWQxbi8/s2048/IMG_5514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTll27fpMdD41437Dmz9mHGVaKXHQBwxeoyXrjQS5apA0lnHrzF_O_2OpClWlVsFSTBBEes8H5HrF4J2wJCio1wa4BV5ktY68ZzOIl11G8gkgfA-id3as-dF_U2hXk3UOA9D8rsWQxbi8/w480-h640/IMG_5514.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And went to the airport where country music posters hung, and a bartender chatted to me about how great Heart and Crown is in the market, although his Heart and Crown location is still pretty lively, all things considered..</div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfBgkV1pzEgcdjp-8BbIDwM7k2e8M0j0ZoSk1InE3HlroXjv1OUGhN6gLc_jkNlJpOB12xv3EW6GXwGeLuzI_L646I9vjsUg-t2VFzGnBo2p6qRbwer7rNYloj5t86gBMTGq8euxKHzw/s2048/IMG_5517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfBgkV1pzEgcdjp-8BbIDwM7k2e8M0j0ZoSk1InE3HlroXjv1OUGhN6gLc_jkNlJpOB12xv3EW6GXwGeLuzI_L646I9vjsUg-t2VFzGnBo2p6qRbwer7rNYloj5t86gBMTGq8euxKHzw/w480-h640/IMG_5517.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>I love Ottawa, and if I were to describe it in one photo, it would be this:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizLxg5UvBvY2xEfe8llvflKhE2kQnfC1GgYe4CVidcJvfz05EvfgXLHqUL5fEeJeKF-CvKsA9shppagt-VkxhvQlqhu6k5Iw3lPgUIdtuD43KrPdB35bRBIdUEiYdgLio12CkOLezkWxQ/s2048/IMG_5478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizLxg5UvBvY2xEfe8llvflKhE2kQnfC1GgYe4CVidcJvfz05EvfgXLHqUL5fEeJeKF-CvKsA9shppagt-VkxhvQlqhu6k5Iw3lPgUIdtuD43KrPdB35bRBIdUEiYdgLio12CkOLezkWxQ/w480-h640/IMG_5478.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes I get mad at it for being so boring, for never keeping up with Dublin, for not being impressive enough to fancy people like Jeff lol...but one thing I respect about Ottawa is that, unlike Toronto, it isn't trying to be cool. It just is. Quiet, cozy, cheerful, simple, with the best views...</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJVoqXPEC2afSJpDF4RPKMddfM2x3JwZJf23NfGrI2cnr4PTi49M69jfMD5brSg7DChw0X4bVVSxMFxIhsrJVAfbfVQxUUZs2O9c4Eg7-Xmn18BD8FevO_yynavInLwvicE1gpvelYXo/s1984/0fdafe31-902d-4c7b-92e9-53e195b80de9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJVoqXPEC2afSJpDF4RPKMddfM2x3JwZJf23NfGrI2cnr4PTi49M69jfMD5brSg7DChw0X4bVVSxMFxIhsrJVAfbfVQxUUZs2O9c4Eg7-Xmn18BD8FevO_yynavInLwvicE1gpvelYXo/w480-h640/0fdafe31-902d-4c7b-92e9-53e195b80de9.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjns_xHeKmnAs52Yk9ofD7JVLG1jOu2WgbUyR5AdIeQk02iGLjWlXtnxO47XhN2Df69f5E9ov4LFJPXa9xHsVA3C_1jPtC5Paq9c1XjTC0FU8cHqxzQcTJ8Cs5afgjYUJX6_AiTp11C8qI/s1984/17291571-1a43-4b79-9b6b-fe0d4ae861a5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1984" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjns_xHeKmnAs52Yk9ofD7JVLG1jOu2WgbUyR5AdIeQk02iGLjWlXtnxO47XhN2Df69f5E9ov4LFJPXa9xHsVA3C_1jPtC5Paq9c1XjTC0FU8cHqxzQcTJ8Cs5afgjYUJX6_AiTp11C8qI/w640-h480/17291571-1a43-4b79-9b6b-fe0d4ae861a5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBk25BLmuzvQYjhvvf0fIJkF-R_1cqcn0GVRk6QivXmGqkjJuIrLxOFERKc2BNr94Rp-wEGm_BpNug-zlgwm8d6X-IzhboCqd8JgbAvWgJSbHheEs4GTahS7iA6PcUNj5xNj0_s9TGkTk/s1984/cb2d8d63-093a-4e23-8759-d6a7d620c180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1984" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBk25BLmuzvQYjhvvf0fIJkF-R_1cqcn0GVRk6QivXmGqkjJuIrLxOFERKc2BNr94Rp-wEGm_BpNug-zlgwm8d6X-IzhboCqd8JgbAvWgJSbHheEs4GTahS7iA6PcUNj5xNj0_s9TGkTk/w640-h480/cb2d8d63-093a-4e23-8759-d6a7d620c180.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmAPg7vG9akS1y_bw2LVTzF-1WDaxO9Bpdnq3OKiezs7dAZDdj_PouK2II0bqGiBMmSzP0t7Yj9L5bHG3IDUakHia3tJlWl32QSNHj2Ta2rerWLXzpVBh9AZOuqH4qIrN6HZHGAgjLAXs/s1984/fad77a79-d9d2-44be-baef-bf0b7ad793fd.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmAPg7vG9akS1y_bw2LVTzF-1WDaxO9Bpdnq3OKiezs7dAZDdj_PouK2II0bqGiBMmSzP0t7Yj9L5bHG3IDUakHia3tJlWl32QSNHj2Ta2rerWLXzpVBh9AZOuqH4qIrN6HZHGAgjLAXs/w480-h640/fad77a79-d9d2-44be-baef-bf0b7ad793fd.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>A very quick drive to the best spa we've ever been to, Le Nordik...</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqETi8FX3nVpMBMnNP1PLHd4Q3kbJwOCboeur1p-0qrtKUwQAkA8v-xEmhn1hyIs4qnTrW0kyn9elO4woircUDDjb6CgIt5UkVlK-IEO1O_O0fXkqQV-kL9qB4ne-gTalw6VPQeDAPv7o/s1984/56169457-b18b-4651-86c3-981c6acc43be.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqETi8FX3nVpMBMnNP1PLHd4Q3kbJwOCboeur1p-0qrtKUwQAkA8v-xEmhn1hyIs4qnTrW0kyn9elO4woircUDDjb6CgIt5UkVlK-IEO1O_O0fXkqQV-kL9qB4ne-gTalw6VPQeDAPv7o/w480-h640/56169457-b18b-4651-86c3-981c6acc43be.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Seriously, where else would you have a forest spa of outdoor hot tubs, saunas, infinity pools, hammocks, fire pits, beers, and tacos?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ottawa is a real life Hallmark movie, especially in the fall, where you can even go to a wholesome pumpkin patch... </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpjUQnVtgtmzLSzvexqWnlcSUA6DcEjae1cfzBkSwKn7aiQWMiC7Zex2jL6Isuo5qTtCINzqL4pvVNs1tRWHV4ikuh1MiQAqqXBjqpHcwecaw0bEkf1__4k8wqj37cDEO1hvLgyROtsM/s1600/648cf4bc-05f1-48c2-898b-af00532eccba.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpjUQnVtgtmzLSzvexqWnlcSUA6DcEjae1cfzBkSwKn7aiQWMiC7Zex2jL6Isuo5qTtCINzqL4pvVNs1tRWHV4ikuh1MiQAqqXBjqpHcwecaw0bEkf1__4k8wqj37cDEO1hvLgyROtsM/w640-h480/648cf4bc-05f1-48c2-898b-af00532eccba.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHiT6ejACeIB9B4et90m7_9x-f2fuLJmdVqXXezfaW0JetcHh_Fa_dhkCTwQaAokfyuqqsMkfGRa7mtlJ4uOd8dlOqHqhujPrLVWKdbD2G0QrQfvAuQYqumw7mohpLR8wQPEmvMmgEY0/s1984/952cb264-14a3-4171-9b65-190bfa1da66c.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1984" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHiT6ejACeIB9B4et90m7_9x-f2fuLJmdVqXXezfaW0JetcHh_Fa_dhkCTwQaAokfyuqqsMkfGRa7mtlJ4uOd8dlOqHqhujPrLVWKdbD2G0QrQfvAuQYqumw7mohpLR8wQPEmvMmgEY0/w640-h480/952cb264-14a3-4171-9b65-190bfa1da66c.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>And where those of us with difficult childhoods tried to smoke a gourd like a bong...<div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTxYT_WBRQ4pPQgzkTHJGZVCt4oqI__kasY9ZspolXFtGNZwlYwdSgnMSMvgn0P3n1dD-4YIcPCCvtSfjWhZ1RqzGZSf3i68G-kC4VCE-pKQcZ931qIyucC-etcbE2nQTBDdlTJqsvQrM/s2048/IMG_5589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTxYT_WBRQ4pPQgzkTHJGZVCt4oqI__kasY9ZspolXFtGNZwlYwdSgnMSMvgn0P3n1dD-4YIcPCCvtSfjWhZ1RqzGZSf3i68G-kC4VCE-pKQcZ931qIyucC-etcbE2nQTBDdlTJqsvQrM/w480-h640/IMG_5589.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>...shoot people with them....</div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHzkD7-6JXe_uPpHQIffURGYah3POpV7ylWL_fWy2hcMMbDw2W-IjpAF1xeiYmbwxaMdcGXLHprz9ZerGreYMI1mg5fe2-e3NSmptppqC7cBoSVrIt0M6VGjVi6nLGcMrI_qmvnNxDB0/s2048/IMG_5591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHzkD7-6JXe_uPpHQIffURGYah3POpV7ylWL_fWy2hcMMbDw2W-IjpAF1xeiYmbwxaMdcGXLHprz9ZerGreYMI1mg5fe2-e3NSmptppqC7cBoSVrIt0M6VGjVi6nLGcMrI_qmvnNxDB0/w480-h640/IMG_5591.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>...and do a kettlebell set.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq0zZjqzGGzhgRHAlNfbbn-Uwi0NReLSi3ZIZ8K9xgCCXPraQc_VxjwuyA2aeId4c_YcGiSzAtrp7dxshQ1b_wXXonW8maQajxa9MfGfn5SL95o-vr7PVlsyaa1zXR2eswoM7n843rodw/s2048/IMG_5592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq0zZjqzGGzhgRHAlNfbbn-Uwi0NReLSi3ZIZ8K9xgCCXPraQc_VxjwuyA2aeId4c_YcGiSzAtrp7dxshQ1b_wXXonW8maQajxa9MfGfn5SL95o-vr7PVlsyaa1zXR2eswoM7n843rodw/w480-h640/IMG_5592.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlf0300_9CfJ8mxIWsIRsI8zDTl4hn9wau_pDpj2o5xkIu7yAOaiYBO1stvxtjKZM4Whx6lQQ-eqa9Vas5WkxKMM20V7x5BInVTPE2tKo-tG5TzMdq35EvbDQAJGcuU8rVj2EsF81jcY0/s2048/IMG_5593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlf0300_9CfJ8mxIWsIRsI8zDTl4hn9wau_pDpj2o5xkIu7yAOaiYBO1stvxtjKZM4Whx6lQQ-eqa9Vas5WkxKMM20V7x5BInVTPE2tKo-tG5TzMdq35EvbDQAJGcuU8rVj2EsF81jcY0/w480-h640/IMG_5593.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Also, pumpkins are very versatile...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv5ySPmMYnMv3QqiUVwdlcGuTDShCRfr9RK_oV3z-pd7grqT9C5V7eH_QtHOOQQfXavUUuy0cke1dC7kqdL2BP9QWYWHCmUdpAGI2MxtRAf2Lrjh-KS-s_CdEeKdRP971Rjwx16hLD_Ls/s2048/IMG_5595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv5ySPmMYnMv3QqiUVwdlcGuTDShCRfr9RK_oV3z-pd7grqT9C5V7eH_QtHOOQQfXavUUuy0cke1dC7kqdL2BP9QWYWHCmUdpAGI2MxtRAf2Lrjh-KS-s_CdEeKdRP971Rjwx16hLD_Ls/w480-h640/IMG_5595.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4mYmWl4NKqbVP2Z0fd6mZtbEn0wogrrjQsC8vNywxQPw9t2KnqQQk9P6CrY_yfyIsnFOb14UeJLlYrbgVHRWFqVjEHEZDxlD_Mte_8XCM-lvgcxdKZn-S0IsJy_j1y33fctqk30KtTF8/s1280/IMG_5597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4mYmWl4NKqbVP2Z0fd6mZtbEn0wogrrjQsC8vNywxQPw9t2KnqQQk9P6CrY_yfyIsnFOb14UeJLlYrbgVHRWFqVjEHEZDxlD_Mte_8XCM-lvgcxdKZn-S0IsJy_j1y33fctqk30KtTF8/w480-h640/IMG_5597.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN5HlnE5LZioO-q9BU3sZrJObV1RI3bDupEwrwNh2o7iKLKIIcHE8DeE_BG1f6mCyO8-3fsTwhMn9dkqoP-jV6mYUlIKGwHKnPm90Dtq7z5N_c9LIK9e9gUwqt29u32mOn-9jAcWKpTW4/s2048/IMG_5606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN5HlnE5LZioO-q9BU3sZrJObV1RI3bDupEwrwNh2o7iKLKIIcHE8DeE_BG1f6mCyO8-3fsTwhMn9dkqoP-jV6mYUlIKGwHKnPm90Dtq7z5N_c9LIK9e9gUwqt29u32mOn-9jAcWKpTW4/w640-h480/IMG_5606.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>One thing that finally seemed to impress Jeff was the poutine truck at the pumpkin patch...</div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgn-8rZqv4iNdQ17OkpygQ9QIxjLZJZyxPbfIxaHnLJk0BNPPsPaiRsoj61dKBSlEUxWiGUhv_GxV8lZEV-CVBMyJJ2APanO26w2OUV3p4gtNmVUZplcniJcMfgVhaAH-u5XsO2Ts40Z0/s2048/IMG_5608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgn-8rZqv4iNdQ17OkpygQ9QIxjLZJZyxPbfIxaHnLJk0BNPPsPaiRsoj61dKBSlEUxWiGUhv_GxV8lZEV-CVBMyJJ2APanO26w2OUV3p4gtNmVUZplcniJcMfgVhaAH-u5XsO2Ts40Z0/w480-h640/IMG_5608.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJK7iKw7iz4tbXFItbIr5B0wrCc8vJUQtnK792UhpF0FmapVIGFJw0Q_ZqlwcneVob44dsnZo_icKW9ADOPoXgVcAN5bS-jhyphenhyphenvKj-PdhRupcCRJ0bGuRZLKGWurmp-WxeIL1gIDyOTWpU/s2048/IMG_5611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJK7iKw7iz4tbXFItbIr5B0wrCc8vJUQtnK792UhpF0FmapVIGFJw0Q_ZqlwcneVob44dsnZo_icKW9ADOPoXgVcAN5bS-jhyphenhyphenvKj-PdhRupcCRJ0bGuRZLKGWurmp-WxeIL1gIDyOTWpU/w480-h640/IMG_5611.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>It was an award-winning poutine, in fairness!</div></div><div><br /></div><div>And now, for the photo of my life:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixK1nC9WljxsT4AFTOOjdEAZbDKfEUDXSObROCHUMeaQsOXX2tJZN8uCgP0298loO21o_AquUQXocSbWd5AJM-TvrpBfLN1fkwD8L33l1sX5a4Z8mWFHwaI5Gnf2cN8buAqLslYzchuz0/s1600/3beb19f0-cfaf-4777-89cc-2df9254d7a91.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixK1nC9WljxsT4AFTOOjdEAZbDKfEUDXSObROCHUMeaQsOXX2tJZN8uCgP0298loO21o_AquUQXocSbWd5AJM-TvrpBfLN1fkwD8L33l1sX5a4Z8mWFHwaI5Gnf2cN8buAqLslYzchuz0/w480-h640/3beb19f0-cfaf-4777-89cc-2df9254d7a91.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>We also went to see my sister in Montreal for one weekend, and saw a big beaver at the Biodome, Jeff freaked out over a smoked meat sandwich, and we drank a bunch of craft beers. It was great!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixjKNx9_3ru-p3deBIBKogfP_CmHNFRYiI1VU5LSmMpwesRyaHv0c46-pjtxHwb3mx4zTbAe-Am5rSgbx_1lDt580AAYdZTH4IUnT6g6UWZPtF9a0yOyoKnVojcyM7FvG8uWM_4aUiC58/s1984/4f696a82-ad3c-489a-850c-404aa405b8e8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixjKNx9_3ru-p3deBIBKogfP_CmHNFRYiI1VU5LSmMpwesRyaHv0c46-pjtxHwb3mx4zTbAe-Am5rSgbx_1lDt580AAYdZTH4IUnT6g6UWZPtF9a0yOyoKnVojcyM7FvG8uWM_4aUiC58/w480-h640/4f696a82-ad3c-489a-850c-404aa405b8e8.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPQmJ2644bUg8EhXMc0hZsrck1pG1dK-0AFTv-Iipc7oE91CQioyJtZ-t6_EkeiIM_ivO5ugaS13emy0WBDbusHHrOvkNsqnD9PyB2OvqenXfl_j0dPh-Awvu_UrkTxELKiFGUsR4E5LE/s1984/3cf6972c-a91c-46c7-b846-d7aedd3f796a.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1984" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPQmJ2644bUg8EhXMc0hZsrck1pG1dK-0AFTv-Iipc7oE91CQioyJtZ-t6_EkeiIM_ivO5ugaS13emy0WBDbusHHrOvkNsqnD9PyB2OvqenXfl_j0dPh-Awvu_UrkTxELKiFGUsR4E5LE/w640-h480/3cf6972c-a91c-46c7-b846-d7aedd3f796a.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ1usp5crPxSvcHwPOOlYiDDBns3yB6Kja9OykO1kOeU2z39E3HcmB-aX8WtVA05XPlNW2a3XCQu-RYldPGQ4-KyMAsrccJ_vlx-wdzZ9LfufE-GBuQiqiqCwcUsuCYKnTKDDqz1faFvw/s1984/87f76073-d274-4729-b815-5875cb3e555d.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ1usp5crPxSvcHwPOOlYiDDBns3yB6Kja9OykO1kOeU2z39E3HcmB-aX8WtVA05XPlNW2a3XCQu-RYldPGQ4-KyMAsrccJ_vlx-wdzZ9LfufE-GBuQiqiqCwcUsuCYKnTKDDqz1faFvw/w480-h640/87f76073-d274-4729-b815-5875cb3e555d.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Back in Ottawa, one of my goals for the month was to try a new tradition. I can't believe I'm admitting this but I've never carved a pumpkin before, because it always looks like such hard work. Well, it isn't, and look at these masterpieces:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPm4-7Awa47TwfZwQS5q_kpNcgA7S8NxQUJGutztBEhRnHlkvy66AZeL9qlidOdcxME2-0zK42fCJLs8YwncCOP8dpgmHG04_WHykW0mKcggRMTQi73i2Jyg1PITCI8pbXBlYBHU-kBEo/s1600/50738e76-4c88-4020-b484-1daab1538136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPm4-7Awa47TwfZwQS5q_kpNcgA7S8NxQUJGutztBEhRnHlkvy66AZeL9qlidOdcxME2-0zK42fCJLs8YwncCOP8dpgmHG04_WHykW0mKcggRMTQi73i2Jyg1PITCI8pbXBlYBHU-kBEo/w480-h640/50738e76-4c88-4020-b484-1daab1538136.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8a-U6jeKpQUdHlY05rwd921UkWKUq88MyZqnWfWuK-zgDVU6xF9WSKvSg7lDB-hUG9UQ1VrT13mhas139rEOwhymw-IsKoDvzGL7hH6mIGccO2QerbB46Ew3vRLCPq6MT2yGgo0VtOdA/s1984/db946902-cbf6-4304-8316-0bb503839fe8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8a-U6jeKpQUdHlY05rwd921UkWKUq88MyZqnWfWuK-zgDVU6xF9WSKvSg7lDB-hUG9UQ1VrT13mhas139rEOwhymw-IsKoDvzGL7hH6mIGccO2QerbB46Ew3vRLCPq6MT2yGgo0VtOdA/w480-h640/db946902-cbf6-4304-8316-0bb503839fe8.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>One night, Jeff took me on a date to Fraser Cafe. I had never gone there but heard it has amazing food, and our meals were outstanding. I still can't believe he researched it himself and found a place I somehow haven't been to yet. I really treasure the little moments we have there, together, because it almost feels like my life again..</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfeMbjKt2AqLFDB6piHyvLlYcEhuErShFqiTxED_NXV_5wj-N3pG1G09wfJ_ddnypxa96y_vwzB-Sq8QkoSwPNiEgtd0I_5QDUlws7_VTSZ2SzFIWcAO34xTRNPqFXbq0fAnAWofUg6vw/s1984/57f25ee7-bec3-4afe-a94a-ad8d02f80339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfeMbjKt2AqLFDB6piHyvLlYcEhuErShFqiTxED_NXV_5wj-N3pG1G09wfJ_ddnypxa96y_vwzB-Sq8QkoSwPNiEgtd0I_5QDUlws7_VTSZ2SzFIWcAO34xTRNPqFXbq0fAnAWofUg6vw/w480-h640/57f25ee7-bec3-4afe-a94a-ad8d02f80339.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvAosdpSCsbKq-TXVtZNuJdZ7jFvo2tojrZpc5bu6GfSvRiYHKAw3FNLxNaPa55erdTB_VLAVBzI4mjvM3EbaeS-zVD0_9wWYy4BWn7oS0WTwHC1EQtV1bIfRv8Hk3lsFWJpdpCuSrEzU/s1984/62457642-cd66-4a9f-be5f-7d00ddba6e6c.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvAosdpSCsbKq-TXVtZNuJdZ7jFvo2tojrZpc5bu6GfSvRiYHKAw3FNLxNaPa55erdTB_VLAVBzI4mjvM3EbaeS-zVD0_9wWYy4BWn7oS0WTwHC1EQtV1bIfRv8Hk3lsFWJpdpCuSrEzU/w480-h640/62457642-cd66-4a9f-be5f-7d00ddba6e6c.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXSr-PyrraI751Gtmd_IlB89jnbnvpi4fV3nhTR9OkVYHXywu5CamyKGiX-QAIWkJi3qFrS7hRzBbDJBTu_aq5Kv9fhHpPymmmzaX5S2lKr2UULOi7Aq9xxBFIt7F1tUwm83TuZFzr0Q/s1984/d98dfd19-05b2-4308-83c6-9a06e489ec6b.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXSr-PyrraI751Gtmd_IlB89jnbnvpi4fV3nhTR9OkVYHXywu5CamyKGiX-QAIWkJi3qFrS7hRzBbDJBTu_aq5Kv9fhHpPymmmzaX5S2lKr2UULOi7Aq9xxBFIt7F1tUwm83TuZFzr0Q/w480-h640/d98dfd19-05b2-4308-83c6-9a06e489ec6b.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguyBBPFPqfoUmDrCGFciwyZSLbxouejUt8f2jzsTAes_in076Qzf5n7Vxd6MWeB1u_8oOTbbDU5XLd0RYSjNBEBnPpck8Zrummggt9CbkPK1F_hS28UBdSl16xwhbptvlKR8F0Go023Yk/s1984/e5bbf987-14fb-44dc-b4b4-13694bceccff.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguyBBPFPqfoUmDrCGFciwyZSLbxouejUt8f2jzsTAes_in076Qzf5n7Vxd6MWeB1u_8oOTbbDU5XLd0RYSjNBEBnPpck8Zrummggt9CbkPK1F_hS28UBdSl16xwhbptvlKR8F0Go023Yk/w480-h640/e5bbf987-14fb-44dc-b4b4-13694bceccff.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Ottawa is a personal love of mine, and one I can't justify objectively. It's the bacon and egg breakfasts on little porcelain plates, the sunrises, the scented candles, and the homemade pumpkin spice sauce my amazing friend Sam brought just for me. Home isn't something anyone can justify, I guess. And that's okay.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEy4lET4jlH8fkdWfWu8ZV8C0j4oykD5jJTgGXJjumTLXoJ-NFjOnIFxvBCfyD8rFPLyyPoR3mobYvJODdfmT7sl0oE2f5bg7HZ4Jut8Wd_CQ7CEyIZrNjWpxjRquvBThcutG6hkniBY/s1984/6cf66f56-a1a5-4aae-82bd-325f780d4b02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEy4lET4jlH8fkdWfWu8ZV8C0j4oykD5jJTgGXJjumTLXoJ-NFjOnIFxvBCfyD8rFPLyyPoR3mobYvJODdfmT7sl0oE2f5bg7HZ4Jut8Wd_CQ7CEyIZrNjWpxjRquvBThcutG6hkniBY/s1984/6cf66f56-a1a5-4aae-82bd-325f780d4b02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_blRETz31np6fnnWJIaRmoAbnlzC36QEitT9YLJQbg-9U_FXzi1oCaDpgyIBzes1jt8oxvelgp398m_-QT0Cjz4Ur7LqSjNj0ZES3YWPmmTgrZbr1d8QQ44Ba72A4_hQb3bOJNg_bqE/s1984/592480b6-dea0-4479-b950-1b8c7d78b950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_blRETz31np6fnnWJIaRmoAbnlzC36QEitT9YLJQbg-9U_FXzi1oCaDpgyIBzes1jt8oxvelgp398m_-QT0Cjz4Ur7LqSjNj0ZES3YWPmmTgrZbr1d8QQ44Ba72A4_hQb3bOJNg_bqE/w480-h640/592480b6-dea0-4479-b950-1b8c7d78b950.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbEy4lET4jlH8fkdWfWu8ZV8C0j4oykD5jJTgGXJjumTLXoJ-NFjOnIFxvBCfyD8rFPLyyPoR3mobYvJODdfmT7sl0oE2f5bg7HZ4Jut8Wd_CQ7CEyIZrNjWpxjRquvBThcutG6hkniBY/w480-h640/6cf66f56-a1a5-4aae-82bd-325f780d4b02.JPG" width="480" /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3I-sNOY6eXVsCEwfgbHzxsr5Wb3ckWYAFGJUZR-JRB3fnVmfizvxbT0nTvs2CjTtRQgnu4gsk3jYOlGqAHbTaPZv3K-6Q9U72o3ZV_U-EbcI7L1xMuRGEBHFSSRoenPUzQAV3VoYNmU/s1984/590dcea3-93ea-4f58-b00d-4308d8128231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3I-sNOY6eXVsCEwfgbHzxsr5Wb3ckWYAFGJUZR-JRB3fnVmfizvxbT0nTvs2CjTtRQgnu4gsk3jYOlGqAHbTaPZv3K-6Q9U72o3ZV_U-EbcI7L1xMuRGEBHFSSRoenPUzQAV3VoYNmU/w480-h640/590dcea3-93ea-4f58-b00d-4308d8128231.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31t-BgtL-DTMeu1-lRBR0AmdwsACXdu8qCGEYWITzcCBqN-xBkuDD2Fs4mMfj_ehOgpRvzkKTMQl5y-GFdOSoQRURG3_-xgD5vlrMF91NEjOeFJXH8fxHGgXwBrSbEtrjrJlICLapHu4/s2048/6721BF57-A26F-432E-A27C-DD239750FC34.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1153" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31t-BgtL-DTMeu1-lRBR0AmdwsACXdu8qCGEYWITzcCBqN-xBkuDD2Fs4mMfj_ehOgpRvzkKTMQl5y-GFdOSoQRURG3_-xgD5vlrMF91NEjOeFJXH8fxHGgXwBrSbEtrjrJlICLapHu4/w360-h640/6721BF57-A26F-432E-A27C-DD239750FC34.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQePpUfEbLsEYuJsY64VhilE7PZJQblNF1ESh4IuOg4CoODGBuhQr928bj4zZbWxGzBrfy3aLh6TW1sWTkSHWxrccwOu384edn9SfsnBiYHdmVzoY3glJTmteh3iIvfC8FglGaTksmDsU/s2048/IMG_5642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQePpUfEbLsEYuJsY64VhilE7PZJQblNF1ESh4IuOg4CoODGBuhQr928bj4zZbWxGzBrfy3aLh6TW1sWTkSHWxrccwOu384edn9SfsnBiYHdmVzoY3glJTmteh3iIvfC8FglGaTksmDsU/w640-h480/IMG_5642.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-25743606964122474692021-09-29T11:46:00.001-04:002021-09-30T08:29:05.416-04:00September Roundup<p>September: another month to have taught me not to chase the past.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid47nj5R9S4k2cOgRqDDSHLPR0JUa8renlrAU_iayy-4a2fQxC230p5nV001bMikehq5o3uCDMnkWDA0f3SQUI7t0rqRAEPGCDoWiUhzFCzcHPDd3hWvC4QmuZvTANVt-5cYSDrok08k4/s1984/b87f92c2-5b7a-4e00-8c5b-982c5c5eb529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid47nj5R9S4k2cOgRqDDSHLPR0JUa8renlrAU_iayy-4a2fQxC230p5nV001bMikehq5o3uCDMnkWDA0f3SQUI7t0rqRAEPGCDoWiUhzFCzcHPDd3hWvC4QmuZvTANVt-5cYSDrok08k4/w480-h640/b87f92c2-5b7a-4e00-8c5b-982c5c5eb529.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><br /></p><p>At the beginning of the month, we went to Barcelona, and it just didn't have the same effect on me as it had the last few times we've been there. Something just felt different, and I realized it's time to see new places. Anyway, we did go to a few spectacular restaurants and did a bit of sight-seeing, but all in all, same damn lesson learned!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFo2gn9v2C5nKtxfKtpXOJ3RjbAFH8cbIchiQm_bX2gj9C8FR0F7f_ulbHvBjcJ3LbHgEFjjEPZjq22dmex298Vh2Rpc7O4PPOuxDBeHEw6wA4UX-yQczaT6BR7Y9t72DqzExWCh29NhA/s1984/b65d50b4-86ef-4d4e-8be5-dc8654251ba9.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1984" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFo2gn9v2C5nKtxfKtpXOJ3RjbAFH8cbIchiQm_bX2gj9C8FR0F7f_ulbHvBjcJ3LbHgEFjjEPZjq22dmex298Vh2Rpc7O4PPOuxDBeHEw6wA4UX-yQczaT6BR7Y9t72DqzExWCh29NhA/w640-h480/b65d50b4-86ef-4d4e-8be5-dc8654251ba9.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>We had an absolutely perfect meal at Arume restaurant, located in a very dodgy part of town, but serving some of the best food I've ever had, like this house-made blackberry mojito that was actually black:<br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0eQPuO-XmwE_c_toO8iB839IDxxE0X47vz_tPZslpF38jYLSMFeEzFB5qxVtu5kKmbmgi51iY6uZQwlTBG8yayfRuAFJavGkrVVMYytOerozGU6Pv8Vab0h6hNU-FFcLicWQ7NHqeC8/s1984/3cd4768a-89de-4f6b-8b21-33fef02c0032.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0eQPuO-XmwE_c_toO8iB839IDxxE0X47vz_tPZslpF38jYLSMFeEzFB5qxVtu5kKmbmgi51iY6uZQwlTBG8yayfRuAFJavGkrVVMYytOerozGU6Pv8Vab0h6hNU-FFcLicWQ7NHqeC8/w480-h640/3cd4768a-89de-4f6b-8b21-33fef02c0032.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xK6MlkLm7Xr_i3H7CQ8AHKmUU8NYGeEtGXPi4Fz1-wW-lTivEM4-oW26VPap2w5Z1ehrYPmmnqoUJP_V8dsmKaNoA-tQQOARwM4iKlCOoiQpWF9-ORWm0vxMY1448yrxVMpkyYTjzlc/s1984/6f426653-ba42-4f4a-8637-61af4585eb74.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xK6MlkLm7Xr_i3H7CQ8AHKmUU8NYGeEtGXPi4Fz1-wW-lTivEM4-oW26VPap2w5Z1ehrYPmmnqoUJP_V8dsmKaNoA-tQQOARwM4iKlCOoiQpWF9-ORWm0vxMY1448yrxVMpkyYTjzlc/w480-h640/6f426653-ba42-4f4a-8637-61af4585eb74.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDaZvHv644ponKa_k_k_ssKV8xZJUyx7bm4p81X-pcciwLjgZbjBNineQ1E_vE74vNTbyk30-YwHvhMJhKWIVyzu3EJwJx8tE3TC8eccrjgHFDKVfO4950DNixXkDks1KpDsv4TPqqVU8/s1984/7a514354-9ffc-448d-a9b9-b05082290246.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDaZvHv644ponKa_k_k_ssKV8xZJUyx7bm4p81X-pcciwLjgZbjBNineQ1E_vE74vNTbyk30-YwHvhMJhKWIVyzu3EJwJx8tE3TC8eccrjgHFDKVfO4950DNixXkDks1KpDsv4TPqqVU8/w480-h640/7a514354-9ffc-448d-a9b9-b05082290246.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pier is one of my favourite places in Barcelona, not just for the way the lights look on the water, but because it makes everyone slow down and just look</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />Jeff took me to an outstanding restaurant called Rao, where everything was so delicious and where I learned that I do not like octopus, no matter how well it's made. Also, if you ever go, you have to order their tomato bread. It's outrageously good.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0ITm9dTOc7msNvAPuB4Rn_gLT4hVhlI8Jj6b_JiesXYQ8swSLqU98nXI7GWH-bb3iyjNLcY_AbT3Zq8gYcZUJwA-0NORTBrd9hxDT5pxHygo3WMMh9p8vSccL1zfH4lsdyF4x-bNUM8/s1136/22FA2527-270E-4695-8978-ECC11ADE8C36.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0ITm9dTOc7msNvAPuB4Rn_gLT4hVhlI8Jj6b_JiesXYQ8swSLqU98nXI7GWH-bb3iyjNLcY_AbT3Zq8gYcZUJwA-0NORTBrd9hxDT5pxHygo3WMMh9p8vSccL1zfH4lsdyF4x-bNUM8/w360-h640/22FA2527-270E-4695-8978-ECC11ADE8C36.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBTPDmEGtW3WPE_OwJBEcjrXlrb2puc5nvEl58WWCbjXDIPF5ap7FNEFwBuSwM2jfTVTKonmEyUGO6OPPQC618b65pNBCxPA37IHenBCCl0Qgvd_2jjt5ZpWUA8ZR6ksFJhSRoRGluHHE/s1136/0533ADCB-D25F-4E90-A37E-73CC225F0FAC.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBTPDmEGtW3WPE_OwJBEcjrXlrb2puc5nvEl58WWCbjXDIPF5ap7FNEFwBuSwM2jfTVTKonmEyUGO6OPPQC618b65pNBCxPA37IHenBCCl0Qgvd_2jjt5ZpWUA8ZR6ksFJhSRoRGluHHE/w360-h640/0533ADCB-D25F-4E90-A37E-73CC225F0FAC.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmFsDwI3O8L0lqelhe7Gl03hqLqe1kHl8jbTfV9kTuKcLi5Ve4XS_PJcO5dKOQba1ALKq_xHF1iK4vRCWLZT6bHZBCb_A6-dcRxOrMrXpTskduMZ1i2KMusQ_MqmFVYuwvaCks1i8lZE/s1136/659ED2F9-F284-413C-BFA3-98B527BDD25E.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmFsDwI3O8L0lqelhe7Gl03hqLqe1kHl8jbTfV9kTuKcLi5Ve4XS_PJcO5dKOQba1ALKq_xHF1iK4vRCWLZT6bHZBCb_A6-dcRxOrMrXpTskduMZ1i2KMusQ_MqmFVYuwvaCks1i8lZE/w360-h640/659ED2F9-F284-413C-BFA3-98B527BDD25E.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The most insane dish was the roast beef with mustard ice cream. The ice cream tasted more like horseradish, and the combination nearly brought tears to my eyes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPY3QxbOiFEj6i2ykBuKaVj3Lrdf1GlmbF1GILt4S3sWJ51-Wph30L1NvU7j65cwQm7LjfkbryDyfborFCa1ldW_UKJdAFBt-tEtT9X-BYfdxsahZrC5nFWQxthYRULE89wmD68M1Hbc/s1136/C6F88891-D853-45F4-A4A1-41208DD61D1C.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPY3QxbOiFEj6i2ykBuKaVj3Lrdf1GlmbF1GILt4S3sWJ51-Wph30L1NvU7j65cwQm7LjfkbryDyfborFCa1ldW_UKJdAFBt-tEtT9X-BYfdxsahZrC5nFWQxthYRULE89wmD68M1Hbc/w360-h640/C6F88891-D853-45F4-A4A1-41208DD61D1C.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguE5h2ocS3ZFEh3b279AfezKLsqEolyY9S-0rel34xjhtJ5xWpLOeP9TNMSuiqYpbsFoNfwqqIWdy2xaER0l4Bl8DlyHpCHaY87617qU_RtIm4ChiN6LhZElB3JpDqUznkAA5xYL9jh5k/s1136/859A6CDE-DBB8-4C60-844D-A979EF66A6F0.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguE5h2ocS3ZFEh3b279AfezKLsqEolyY9S-0rel34xjhtJ5xWpLOeP9TNMSuiqYpbsFoNfwqqIWdy2xaER0l4Bl8DlyHpCHaY87617qU_RtIm4ChiN6LhZElB3JpDqUznkAA5xYL9jh5k/w360-h640/859A6CDE-DBB8-4C60-844D-A979EF66A6F0.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>We also went to A Restaurant (that's the ...name) where we had tomato balsamic salad with tomato ice cream, and oh. my. god. I don't know what's up with the savoury ice cream trend but it was outstanding.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE1wWheEwtNK3w5gC5QvIeuecSPiZMYlcpA9giVKzA4gP_ANkrMzawKkrtycs9bVjh1hXVw-ixzoM1kUYAQ3bHempanTgPWkFugXadIu9ra5PPcf3gVo7F8QMABed0TYrO8U6N_WAMSjo/s1984/50183ec5-3336-48ea-b006-eeacfb77ca15.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE1wWheEwtNK3w5gC5QvIeuecSPiZMYlcpA9giVKzA4gP_ANkrMzawKkrtycs9bVjh1hXVw-ixzoM1kUYAQ3bHempanTgPWkFugXadIu9ra5PPcf3gVo7F8QMABed0TYrO8U6N_WAMSjo/w480-h640/50183ec5-3336-48ea-b006-eeacfb77ca15.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg31JotRYT_0VHZG5C04SRBBovZ96pHg65WPQ5zlVLE4YoG3tLJgkY0yXwiqax6_q9evDU0SS5WVCezXu_RI2NAprZOZSK2riBGqu89iJQJIwNE1FxYXvSQl8f9SMTCnPPWnS7fDaBut0/s2048/c9615013-5b96-4b71-88a4-e60624158e80.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg31JotRYT_0VHZG5C04SRBBovZ96pHg65WPQ5zlVLE4YoG3tLJgkY0yXwiqax6_q9evDU0SS5WVCezXu_RI2NAprZOZSK2riBGqu89iJQJIwNE1FxYXvSQl8f9SMTCnPPWnS7fDaBut0/w480-h640/c9615013-5b96-4b71-88a4-e60624158e80.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANKFDDhcld_0jNbYylL5Ld27hETiuKCCQU6JKMIld8zIhRIgMgIf-XJrvD5M9777-ugO1YazYrEj-22FrFtWGrUTezUtusw5ELRf4EvhQkn8cSSjmru62yQwwwlaR4PpvsN8bE5oPL2k/s1136/CB6A358D-9AC6-4BCE-89C2-751D9295EDAA.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANKFDDhcld_0jNbYylL5Ld27hETiuKCCQU6JKMIld8zIhRIgMgIf-XJrvD5M9777-ugO1YazYrEj-22FrFtWGrUTezUtusw5ELRf4EvhQkn8cSSjmru62yQwwwlaR4PpvsN8bE5oPL2k/w360-h640/CB6A358D-9AC6-4BCE-89C2-751D9295EDAA.JPG" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pool view from our shitty little hotel that I will never go to again lol </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYUDfInnzFPjIZB9MSEvieHl8RzutntPpXxHmm0uB1wI6ob6Gr4mTa9NxA8REnXm8mLxaPgJkkCbe34e8PpaCHvWgmW3vFvD1gfMiP5GvCEgWRwhJRuGwPegpOXMxya3WuFeIRKMWggk/s1984/d077b4bd-0466-48a6-9855-b43c7211b186.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYUDfInnzFPjIZB9MSEvieHl8RzutntPpXxHmm0uB1wI6ob6Gr4mTa9NxA8REnXm8mLxaPgJkkCbe34e8PpaCHvWgmW3vFvD1gfMiP5GvCEgWRwhJRuGwPegpOXMxya3WuFeIRKMWggk/w480-h640/d077b4bd-0466-48a6-9855-b43c7211b186.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UjK93dbw7Aw_e5erGiBhgrLsGh-_kzDRgYHRoETCcMmsZIYNaDmaF4Ri7oPLoF1s1E6lIZBwfdpnKNZiogW2d33l6V3AAEyzP1-1dEaLEQiIVs0-kf7V3wH16EApPqSIVUqEBEjRnsQ/s1136/DA9D25E4-0ADB-4CEA-AF08-9D258784425E.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UjK93dbw7Aw_e5erGiBhgrLsGh-_kzDRgYHRoETCcMmsZIYNaDmaF4Ri7oPLoF1s1E6lIZBwfdpnKNZiogW2d33l6V3AAEyzP1-1dEaLEQiIVs0-kf7V3wH16EApPqSIVUqEBEjRnsQ/w360-h640/DA9D25E4-0ADB-4CEA-AF08-9D258784425E.JPG" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somehow Covid made the ..fountains...stop? But it was gorgeous nonetheless</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0SZz6OQ7JIuUvZBuPnTDONkhqJrDqxF9-cEFjUGfWA_tXIRU1SDroJ1cd4APA9o-swAnKPmVv9CkY5QqXRB2Tfx-uSxoLwdGthGzrC21V1CGbin6VJpI5kAA1YXbq4HS-UgEKmh7axYk/s1136/EE6C38DC-D4FB-44F3-A3CB-C2FE058B250D.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0SZz6OQ7JIuUvZBuPnTDONkhqJrDqxF9-cEFjUGfWA_tXIRU1SDroJ1cd4APA9o-swAnKPmVv9CkY5QqXRB2Tfx-uSxoLwdGthGzrC21V1CGbin6VJpI5kAA1YXbq4HS-UgEKmh7axYk/w360-h640/EE6C38DC-D4FB-44F3-A3CB-C2FE058B250D.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxthbEMGGfMVIWFmfeirWZ7lwatvjMhsYiDsq8oZBawW3qpMe6XJJfMI9Yss3AQSsZKwQc0XjwomG6unrM31xiNmQCSAkVuaw_rO534gQMdZFOUA5EDU_mK5mjeOYl4NAD5dlNKPLgU2E/s1984/f4bc12ba-5dce-467d-a5ea-06240458dde9.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxthbEMGGfMVIWFmfeirWZ7lwatvjMhsYiDsq8oZBawW3qpMe6XJJfMI9Yss3AQSsZKwQc0XjwomG6unrM31xiNmQCSAkVuaw_rO534gQMdZFOUA5EDU_mK5mjeOYl4NAD5dlNKPLgU2E/w480-h640/f4bc12ba-5dce-467d-a5ea-06240458dde9.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trashy tapas and sangria</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-tcgsw50A374AKHPc4jiq39WHfmFBmmIRbfZSWU0_p8QW3jPmpybaqlvL5yRIGpV_2A2w-2kq3E1k8yMEQeJ2Hgri4FOmrcKwAAo9OJOFzqyhNgHaUCC-i_TE2tLllKW-F40-CWpoV-s/s1984/ff2b30da-e1b6-4d61-adff-3430d07b397b.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-tcgsw50A374AKHPc4jiq39WHfmFBmmIRbfZSWU0_p8QW3jPmpybaqlvL5yRIGpV_2A2w-2kq3E1k8yMEQeJ2Hgri4FOmrcKwAAo9OJOFzqyhNgHaUCC-i_TE2tLllKW-F40-CWpoV-s/w480-h640/ff2b30da-e1b6-4d61-adff-3430d07b397b.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Rum Baba from A Restaurant on a UFO converted into a bowl, I think</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKo5enm4s0nFY1O0jvVKO3-ZplXXo9m3L7c_oSJBdlSxqQkJ-Doc3ucrBQ23o-MnSGuynGueUpTUGiEM9cdEcpSMctouOqlnswUid1DTpBmojZNNfQ2JlhR3e4YkPw7S_OaWTKC1eCGXc/s2048/IMG_4921.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKo5enm4s0nFY1O0jvVKO3-ZplXXo9m3L7c_oSJBdlSxqQkJ-Doc3ucrBQ23o-MnSGuynGueUpTUGiEM9cdEcpSMctouOqlnswUid1DTpBmojZNNfQ2JlhR3e4YkPw7S_OaWTKC1eCGXc/w480-h640/IMG_4921.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMaMO_AxBEtxXpJPg1Q6S8vbFf7ZC93HmlPqA61bI3vjL33qNZmj8t7QgF521Daj8DGX2TRYaitj6t7L0qdpuukVuXRg98dmsqIBdH_075v8U1KOcl2c-pub8fwLFFeCeO6kZFQM_lgi0/s2048/IMG_4923.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMaMO_AxBEtxXpJPg1Q6S8vbFf7ZC93HmlPqA61bI3vjL33qNZmj8t7QgF521Daj8DGX2TRYaitj6t7L0qdpuukVuXRg98dmsqIBdH_075v8U1KOcl2c-pub8fwLFFeCeO6kZFQM_lgi0/w480-h640/IMG_4923.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan Flashes. That's my exact style.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSu0rqpvQ_u7VkiOxDu_s_PrM-B52xZtrBQBq4wkN1XbjdECudJeqHdi-APxwVfpEoKJeZnIKshjLCmfs7QXF6zL6scdIVVKsc5ZZqDppouzMzL8c76dq5wC9kiVRiPOOHLhElq3xRbPI/s2048/IMG_4962.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSu0rqpvQ_u7VkiOxDu_s_PrM-B52xZtrBQBq4wkN1XbjdECudJeqHdi-APxwVfpEoKJeZnIKshjLCmfs7QXF6zL6scdIVVKsc5ZZqDppouzMzL8c76dq5wC9kiVRiPOOHLhElq3xRbPI/s2048/IMG_4962.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSu0rqpvQ_u7VkiOxDu_s_PrM-B52xZtrBQBq4wkN1XbjdECudJeqHdi-APxwVfpEoKJeZnIKshjLCmfs7QXF6zL6scdIVVKsc5ZZqDppouzMzL8c76dq5wC9kiVRiPOOHLhElq3xRbPI/w480-h640/IMG_4962.JPG" width="480" /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBASdfPysNx7i-bKJzUl-pd_cAAdkpjATD1Vk1qD0tt_HuyXludjACQHxHadxNF4J7XNY325DZszJnta1mEmYQoJjRTaNJkiAJYOl1Uwii0PLPdQHgCGmVLVZk-reFtgMW9_tHGDSZ8o/s1984/IMG_5094.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBASdfPysNx7i-bKJzUl-pd_cAAdkpjATD1Vk1qD0tt_HuyXludjACQHxHadxNF4J7XNY325DZszJnta1mEmYQoJjRTaNJkiAJYOl1Uwii0PLPdQHgCGmVLVZk-reFtgMW9_tHGDSZ8o/w480-h640/IMG_5094.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-1UnTRyRGy6OQ9GBK4-fAoNaCef8i20DaPwLCUO4Mvk0LD-fKvm7CQSa9wnzRzI0-pEF-pR-zFYYUacifuCGyAw6KXp5NG1O7XzgyzqQmfjk_IRvntTae7XyOCufpnustglU0cIDPPM/s1984/IMG_5104.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-1UnTRyRGy6OQ9GBK4-fAoNaCef8i20DaPwLCUO4Mvk0LD-fKvm7CQSa9wnzRzI0-pEF-pR-zFYYUacifuCGyAw6KXp5NG1O7XzgyzqQmfjk_IRvntTae7XyOCufpnustglU0cIDPPM/w480-h640/IMG_5104.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div></div><div>My <u>Something New</u> for September was trying sea bass ceviche at Arume Bar, and that's a big goal for me because the idea of eating raw sea bass makes me very uncomfortable lol but...again...I figured if they really are such master of gastronomy, I'd be okay. And I was. I mean, the next day I wasn't, but still, it was so good.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7ZaBw44yHLZPjtYwoioyE39GsZmqQ4XMZUyvQES4jZSIkgxmfK8h8ICZKJvVaOBAdCDA8tpJAdnVkqkNZPXSw3qrfi4taX6obIIhzBC8mXRoZi74gEjmzl4d_IquEIt-mk0-9o-u7E4/s1984/1b95ab0b-e9d5-4aac-91ec-4ce308d08f0b.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7ZaBw44yHLZPjtYwoioyE39GsZmqQ4XMZUyvQES4jZSIkgxmfK8h8ICZKJvVaOBAdCDA8tpJAdnVkqkNZPXSw3qrfi4taX6obIIhzBC8mXRoZi74gEjmzl4d_IquEIt-mk0-9o-u7E4/w480-h640/1b95ab0b-e9d5-4aac-91ec-4ce308d08f0b.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>For my <u>Learning Something</u>, I finished the Not a Life Coach audiobook by James Smith. My favourite idea of his was how the way we spend our day has a value far superior to anything we ascribe to salary or social status. I've been thinking lately that I really miss my old reception job, which I worked at a sports centre when I was 17 years old. You'd think reception is the lowest end of the career ladder, but how can you qualify the joy something brings you, when it requires you to step outside of the parameters of what society has ascribed as valuable? Being in Ireland has exposed me to so many different fields of profession, and just witnessing property advisors, estate agents, lawyers, bankers, investors, and software managers go through their day to day stresses with no end or reward in sight has really made me reevaluate the economy of our personal time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Also, James has a very palette-able voice, very soft, calm, and easy to take in, even when there are points one may not completely agree with. I'll hopefully have a chance to listen to his Not a Diet Book next.</div><div><br /></div><div>For my <u>Something Creative</u>, I wanted to finish a painting I started months ago. I've mentioned it once or twice in the last few blog entries, and I thought enough was enough, and it was time to bring my masterpiece to life, to finish loose ends, and to show it off in all its shitty glory:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheig4Zbv-SEwbCmEPI1C_snflhoQTV_aai56oeh3s88MLZu50Q2r1fvTqqHlLvKLXTp-Sx3C7koBS43mU2j6-UeaSNo57oSN6lCcbNde9Azvy7VAXRaPYTlmvLN4fOQ1pbFxobEfcUVxM/s2048/WhatsApp+Image+2021-09-17+at+12.42.12+%25282%2529.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheig4Zbv-SEwbCmEPI1C_snflhoQTV_aai56oeh3s88MLZu50Q2r1fvTqqHlLvKLXTp-Sx3C7koBS43mU2j6-UeaSNo57oSN6lCcbNde9Azvy7VAXRaPYTlmvLN4fOQ1pbFxobEfcUVxM/w480-h640/WhatsApp+Image+2021-09-17+at+12.42.12+%25282%2529.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>I first saw a really gorgeous version of this painting painted by artist J.Bish. It's meant to be a Canadian landscape, with the familiar glow of a roadside Tim's, illuminated by its traditional colours, with what I think is a sunrise behind it. It instantly reminded me of roadtrips to Montreal, of my mom, and of home. Okay, here's the original:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0iGWwN5sIvw7RqbmfJ96pTW59UHxI5JqGhpTU5XodqRRhxJDSMljhneG8yQ2pwIocRVyl-oBDHdDCgTsudjmPKzHrMxfAXpm290NJDq6_JB2Ojtk0hF0r-NC2uAdpr6l7CQwwNbK8wCY/s1179/Screen+Shot+2021-04-27+at+6.23.02+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="911" data-original-width="1179" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0iGWwN5sIvw7RqbmfJ96pTW59UHxI5JqGhpTU5XodqRRhxJDSMljhneG8yQ2pwIocRVyl-oBDHdDCgTsudjmPKzHrMxfAXpm290NJDq6_JB2Ojtk0hF0r-NC2uAdpr6l7CQwwNbK8wCY/w640-h494/Screen+Shot+2021-04-27+at+6.23.02+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> Yes, it's a trillion times better, but a) I don't have a talent for painting and b) my painting matters to me because I bought the canvases and paints on my way back from physiotherapy, when my shoulders were at their worst, but I believed I would get through the pain by painting something that made me happy to look at. Does the end result evoke more humiliation than pride? Yes. But at least I finished it. My mom was so kind, and actually said it reminded her of the Group of Seven. It's really nice to still have her care enough to say this to a 35 year old adult.</div><div><br /></div><div>I also wanted to get back to my Headspace sessions and challenged myself to do ten days in a row in the couple of weeks coming up to my birthday. I don't yet feel enlightened but I'm learning to remember what negative thoughts are, especially when they accompany my chronic pain.</div><div><br /></div><div>For my Fitness challenge, I wanted to complete a half-marathon in the week before my birthday. I've mentioned a few times that I love running the Canada Army Run as it's always a week or two before my birthday and is a little way I show acknowledgment to myself for I guess still being alive lol...this year it was a virtual run so I got to do it from Dublin, and I tailored my run to include a stopover for a cardamom bun because that's how I roll.</div><div><br /></div><div>Because I couldn't run very much, the run actually took nearly four hours which was excruciating towards the end. I'm so happy I finished it, because I really wanted to throw in the towel.</div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8k1aG-C0xaiCrD2fzZipQ4c_Hkldfb9Etz-U940fXKj2LZPkA8sGsNkH9JfXZWTLqqMRxfI-RKX6zH7N6wdgcQ5KC_a2ZGC_ZJYsI-tB36dIhaZN3bGDrLbNeEg1Rq4tlGs_Z9WG1kf8/s2048/IMG_5302.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8k1aG-C0xaiCrD2fzZipQ4c_Hkldfb9Etz-U940fXKj2LZPkA8sGsNkH9JfXZWTLqqMRxfI-RKX6zH7N6wdgcQ5KC_a2ZGC_ZJYsI-tB36dIhaZN3bGDrLbNeEg1Rq4tlGs_Z9WG1kf8/w480-h640/IMG_5302.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><u><br /></u></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><u><br /></u></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><u><br /></u></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrzCSx1vU8GeIbPeKaostuCZeiVick4QzdKNbEBfsAyFlzJzCIEgcKm7-wiq010UB0crbty_hE26jP45R24yRle2ZnDqRfis_8OfYg77UIysRejvgUzIth1QF8k-E62lG9eYujr5Tvl8w/s1136/4DAB7C35-7F63-4832-AF80-45BDCFB5F017.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrzCSx1vU8GeIbPeKaostuCZeiVick4QzdKNbEBfsAyFlzJzCIEgcKm7-wiq010UB0crbty_hE26jP45R24yRle2ZnDqRfis_8OfYg77UIysRejvgUzIth1QF8k-E62lG9eYujr5Tvl8w/w360-h640/4DAB7C35-7F63-4832-AF80-45BDCFB5F017.JPG" width="360" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi52xjztoY_F0ke48nN2yfgglrubS4s-SB1BCvYTHKt_6fHx-rNWG8s-sKlwjiiMnDthft1xqW8YR3fuSZjlvUqUFx3yhAud36qpyAJMozw3n4pOdgxtjiXeWCydfsmfm1u9atxwo8poT0/s2048/IMG_5311.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi52xjztoY_F0ke48nN2yfgglrubS4s-SB1BCvYTHKt_6fHx-rNWG8s-sKlwjiiMnDthft1xqW8YR3fuSZjlvUqUFx3yhAud36qpyAJMozw3n4pOdgxtjiXeWCydfsmfm1u9atxwo8poT0/w480-h640/IMG_5311.JPG" width="480" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Jeff's birthday was earlier in the month, and lets just say my <u>Something Caring</u> was taking this dude across town on a Luas. Enough said.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyslydu8UMcmP6p7j6SW1ovXXDJacWWmmXzHP05G9zJGFp5Atw7ygMIeDuH2wJKekmMy53t70NXILZOQoENlQGmX2MB5_guKUtZywwTxAAbXQbvM9sT0IPQFGTuJhk57Xmxy6u1-5sY0/s2048/IMG_5052.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyslydu8UMcmP6p7j6SW1ovXXDJacWWmmXzHP05G9zJGFp5Atw7ygMIeDuH2wJKekmMy53t70NXILZOQoENlQGmX2MB5_guKUtZywwTxAAbXQbvM9sT0IPQFGTuJhk57Xmxy6u1-5sY0/w480-h640/IMG_5052.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>We stayed at the Gibson Hotel for Jeff's birthday, and had steak frites at Marco Pierre White. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnRdt1bqfOQWi3ma0258ejoXjgQdLqAHpDd8Sd9FywXc6xP1xbjM_dYR8ar9M08-g99OMdbyD4DFdY6nVToAd06Pk7VLIa8YF3vzPyJ46WozoHDBOocYngX3e_0pyJSycmanSx4-t5dpc/s1984/4ec09d73-3036-4724-9369-5ddc3e40a24e.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnRdt1bqfOQWi3ma0258ejoXjgQdLqAHpDd8Sd9FywXc6xP1xbjM_dYR8ar9M08-g99OMdbyD4DFdY6nVToAd06Pk7VLIa8YF3vzPyJ46WozoHDBOocYngX3e_0pyJSycmanSx4-t5dpc/w480-h640/4ec09d73-3036-4724-9369-5ddc3e40a24e.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvUDtAfAFToRWCbasqIO0DrHPsUbkfLOZ5xhmCoVYzZRUVArLXei8Do3lIob-Edt-7exA8HzY1VOcJMa6bdL5z_0cjGcQHriVcOtzNosCDbdzp0ufpYt31flunS_9TTKtWR71Cu6eOFM/s1600/7d335773-bc77-41ac-a452-e0cb601cf3e8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvUDtAfAFToRWCbasqIO0DrHPsUbkfLOZ5xhmCoVYzZRUVArLXei8Do3lIob-Edt-7exA8HzY1VOcJMa6bdL5z_0cjGcQHriVcOtzNosCDbdzp0ufpYt31flunS_9TTKtWR71Cu6eOFM/w480-h640/7d335773-bc77-41ac-a452-e0cb601cf3e8.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div>We had a balcony in our hotel room, and from there we watched young students in their residence apartments, which was very disturbing. I also booked us spa access, and we had full use of the spa including the copper tubs, which we filled with boiling hot water, and sat in, watching the night sky.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIs9t3fqx2q4t9d3EPMfarcgbvwgEedl7tYNI523Licfiqu4NMGnRC88qctOiyr0ajUj_CeiXRk4VAanUAhVA8XrGf60QJSwqQyoZw7w364f0nWBb859un43ffpIosU0N4RuPEKFwNYyg/s1600/436eff54-795e-4260-8299-adb5359213c5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIs9t3fqx2q4t9d3EPMfarcgbvwgEedl7tYNI523Licfiqu4NMGnRC88qctOiyr0ajUj_CeiXRk4VAanUAhVA8XrGf60QJSwqQyoZw7w364f0nWBb859un43ffpIosU0N4RuPEKFwNYyg/w480-h640/436eff54-795e-4260-8299-adb5359213c5.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiin3_WgX0FTI6IdVOQRkCISXr9eZ79NBAfZzyXE6sN-qmQ6csk1GwdomlJrVct0nAri8BsgdZn8W75ma_WjSs5m4RukT-fe0_S5P4yn1mPF3BTYAlT8iifBDmsDQodBURYlBJSvczmisY/s1984/9e54f13d-fac3-436b-a220-4301c9376ca0.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiin3_WgX0FTI6IdVOQRkCISXr9eZ79NBAfZzyXE6sN-qmQ6csk1GwdomlJrVct0nAri8BsgdZn8W75ma_WjSs5m4RukT-fe0_S5P4yn1mPF3BTYAlT8iifBDmsDQodBURYlBJSvczmisY/w480-h640/9e54f13d-fac3-436b-a220-4301c9376ca0.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-ek2pWVZuLoVaFTIUf-7yONwkqK1s2qWir_zlhGP338mvVDjD_nxZg9if3ddeXYfBI74qq8KKkWKkvlL7w518ggott0C-_qErceEcUhllRxTp36gYS02xWg7lQqJjR6KNcQ1WlsW6Hk/s1984/7893284f-3982-49d8-bfd5-186ee16f48bf.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-ek2pWVZuLoVaFTIUf-7yONwkqK1s2qWir_zlhGP338mvVDjD_nxZg9if3ddeXYfBI74qq8KKkWKkvlL7w518ggott0C-_qErceEcUhllRxTp36gYS02xWg7lQqJjR6KNcQ1WlsW6Hk/w480-h640/7893284f-3982-49d8-bfd5-186ee16f48bf.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI8NjWzHeDHbfhqINrx2BiVgL9i1cfO_g4XxOzLs-RpV9zOaEjGzpFVNqdXfJql_NEKVKXhK4_EfPuri9MDc_uWQHkwkEshBohhAQJLl5N7TnQxEUcLRHKoPavtxwYKVhkcRtTq5Kr5o8/s1984/a366ca53-23ad-42f1-ad1f-e3dc3b4a388d.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI8NjWzHeDHbfhqINrx2BiVgL9i1cfO_g4XxOzLs-RpV9zOaEjGzpFVNqdXfJql_NEKVKXhK4_EfPuri9MDc_uWQHkwkEshBohhAQJLl5N7TnQxEUcLRHKoPavtxwYKVhkcRtTq5Kr5o8/w480-h640/a366ca53-23ad-42f1-ad1f-e3dc3b4a388d.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIf9OSnzqJyChS8PDhjR-7t0lB49wDJ7U5DjMsFK4DwkKaEeqaWzTRmyL2lX8gaLtUtj3trNfc-MvZISmB8_OdjNLKC3q2L8Ze878CdcI30EIoEYuUJ96-hj7gkIaW1Cbb6mB7BgTtnPg/s1984/b6068be9-e645-49dd-a490-47d56eb77ec0.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIf9OSnzqJyChS8PDhjR-7t0lB49wDJ7U5DjMsFK4DwkKaEeqaWzTRmyL2lX8gaLtUtj3trNfc-MvZISmB8_OdjNLKC3q2L8Ze878CdcI30EIoEYuUJ96-hj7gkIaW1Cbb6mB7BgTtnPg/w480-h640/b6068be9-e645-49dd-a490-47d56eb77ec0.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUN1xf1-MesMhyphenhyphenEF1G4C_5DZLmEuK6LnYSjgSJmTBuUbhQIi10wZUGKipdX-xlf7Zm6aw38YiqGMthxjPMogX7aVCoetf1nYf6TFmzP2ERrM8nc6QfrWrzsOSCzTXp-AWXuwWn8-TRO_M/s2048/IMG_5051.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUN1xf1-MesMhyphenhyphenEF1G4C_5DZLmEuK6LnYSjgSJmTBuUbhQIi10wZUGKipdX-xlf7Zm6aw38YiqGMthxjPMogX7aVCoetf1nYf6TFmzP2ERrM8nc6QfrWrzsOSCzTXp-AWXuwWn8-TRO_M/w480-h640/IMG_5051.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXpl1WF3gNvmTDiT9SjYJ_ChzB-GSuZjUuA8kYoNZXD0MoZ_AAh_YYN5JAtn7FvGCe2xLqU505gs3xXvIxF-jIzMz-a2EuDXikYbJDLXxUUWAPmOCc4zdL743JkyakRzOS-LLKimC9Ts/s2048/IMG_5059.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXpl1WF3gNvmTDiT9SjYJ_ChzB-GSuZjUuA8kYoNZXD0MoZ_AAh_YYN5JAtn7FvGCe2xLqU505gs3xXvIxF-jIzMz-a2EuDXikYbJDLXxUUWAPmOCc4zdL743JkyakRzOS-LLKimC9Ts/w480-h640/IMG_5059.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>The next morning, Jeff took the dinosaur with him to brunch, on the Luas again, down the street, and through town. Then, just as we got off the train by our house, the dinosaur flew off into the sky where he rose higher and higher until we could no longer see him. I'd like to think he's still up there, seeing the world, and maybe making someone else happy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then it was my birthday, and as expected, I turned 35. I'm still having a hard time understanding what it means when you have no idea how anything works or is supposed to look or be, but are in your mid-thirties. What am I missing here? LOL [Insert Deflection] One of my goals for my birthday was to just try to get through it without over-analyzing things, so that's what I'm still trying to do.</div><div><br /></div><div>My family and Jeff's family were very lovely and made me feel very special. Jeff went out of his way to distract me from my misery, surprising me with mimosas in the morning, a salsa class in the afternoon, followed by a cocktail making class at Jameson Distillery, and dinner at La Cave, a little French restaurant run by a man from Normandy, with one waiter from Lyon, running between patrons, spilling things. It was really cute, and the food was fabulous - Jeff was even converted to the French Onion Soup!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiW1RG7qKXsdugJkJuExC0GPswYnGGaYLE2v-lVj6MpXaeOx-UPEJ4XgiBrhhtrvZ5NGWRpRYVpmvOhhNE0p5TbfOBlbCB8PqJLBJ25hzvcewqsPWSl9wW41v3LUg9ry5BxBK1fS9qaus/s1984/eee0e390-dcd5-433e-8468-703d42b75102.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiW1RG7qKXsdugJkJuExC0GPswYnGGaYLE2v-lVj6MpXaeOx-UPEJ4XgiBrhhtrvZ5NGWRpRYVpmvOhhNE0p5TbfOBlbCB8PqJLBJ25hzvcewqsPWSl9wW41v3LUg9ry5BxBK1fS9qaus/w480-h640/eee0e390-dcd5-433e-8468-703d42b75102.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_FcgVJP49_0HK-mkkoFfF9pF-b1SjC2IvUtrUoBNPBS9_C5A8tzVjAnUFqLQiobd3sDlaMegstiL7ZHLHYYn-uIcyFspnTeJT5ZPfUVBaRlIlL3nxRSTk2Dye2lCc4we9mIynwhwXRvc/s1984/5f768243-ff94-4ae2-a193-0de29abd35ed.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_FcgVJP49_0HK-mkkoFfF9pF-b1SjC2IvUtrUoBNPBS9_C5A8tzVjAnUFqLQiobd3sDlaMegstiL7ZHLHYYn-uIcyFspnTeJT5ZPfUVBaRlIlL3nxRSTk2Dye2lCc4we9mIynwhwXRvc/w480-h640/5f768243-ff94-4ae2-a193-0de29abd35ed.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoIPHIw6fkLNKzx5b7ZOUq01RhNWFJgZZX5-JYAjVhPYr9A1LQ3EAWcI2-4kFpFZX-okustBLfJaTqTwrBiKCkZAtxE6O7LB5v5Z7it_bSSq2bYMLYJl50KDfZ8sJgIE-N_VJRQowc2qE/s1984/5909e5b3-55ba-417d-9447-df9bf49aee0f.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoIPHIw6fkLNKzx5b7ZOUq01RhNWFJgZZX5-JYAjVhPYr9A1LQ3EAWcI2-4kFpFZX-okustBLfJaTqTwrBiKCkZAtxE6O7LB5v5Z7it_bSSq2bYMLYJl50KDfZ8sJgIE-N_VJRQowc2qE/w480-h640/5909e5b3-55ba-417d-9447-df9bf49aee0f.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8RRJpK6p9TmLjryXyGECNwACvxceMh8GOYTqHhIdhyzVGsDpLp3BEeUmZ0A0kfVMyUViwkF_Wl3M5nttZXz09mlzAD9COdNN02r__TfjHC9kZFjbhUN_9GpTcvHIOBO3yY1zOMfYaVA/s1984/975eb117-02b1-4640-a4c0-162d896f34d2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8RRJpK6p9TmLjryXyGECNwACvxceMh8GOYTqHhIdhyzVGsDpLp3BEeUmZ0A0kfVMyUViwkF_Wl3M5nttZXz09mlzAD9COdNN02r__TfjHC9kZFjbhUN_9GpTcvHIOBO3yY1zOMfYaVA/w480-h640/975eb117-02b1-4640-a4c0-162d896f34d2.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I fucked up the whiskey sour because my arms aren't strong enough to shake the ice!!!!!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaPxy9SNw27L-NTwPXWyi_ODnFMDy3IJKy0MZIsJMpIiqp3Xw-lD_OEmby_Wsj1RtLz_L0rVDJu2zehHtjDB6ux29RFlYZ21tOJtT-elSGd-dJLEsXWJOqJEN0aBuBHJEy5-x4gCXzLpk/s2048/8B9C8A5E-9D5A-499A-843B-BA211C673D30.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1153" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaPxy9SNw27L-NTwPXWyi_ODnFMDy3IJKy0MZIsJMpIiqp3Xw-lD_OEmby_Wsj1RtLz_L0rVDJu2zehHtjDB6ux29RFlYZ21tOJtT-elSGd-dJLEsXWJOqJEN0aBuBHJEy5-x4gCXzLpk/w360-h640/8B9C8A5E-9D5A-499A-843B-BA211C673D30.JPG" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At La Cave</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-YL1E07uUE5XKuwv37jO3WODXADiJbKlVD82WlPn0JgcuypZetjFll5C7qLSw1BZAsWN_jPakFzUN4KfDADUAN1PloRWYP2ZVTxyEhJgoY2TRmzeBbDQX9GiS5mZycMyaqbuPsgflk8/s1984/6a12599d-bf1d-4d25-afc6-7f1b946eb005.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-YL1E07uUE5XKuwv37jO3WODXADiJbKlVD82WlPn0JgcuypZetjFll5C7qLSw1BZAsWN_jPakFzUN4KfDADUAN1PloRWYP2ZVTxyEhJgoY2TRmzeBbDQX9GiS5mZycMyaqbuPsgflk8/w480-h640/6a12599d-bf1d-4d25-afc6-7f1b946eb005.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizGhrd2BhzMkg_CcZBoiDM7lb473dFBeo5jrZQZ1_KH13b85FhS5ZwtD2rSnr91PBFVms857LyexUcIcLNAdgvaJ78uhAgfUEdaorGj6ibNRScbTVMpHaTLqO4HGXhcmfy-sccSVxx7Ug/s1984/be6b217e-9f60-4b90-8e47-a4279f8ef9dd.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizGhrd2BhzMkg_CcZBoiDM7lb473dFBeo5jrZQZ1_KH13b85FhS5ZwtD2rSnr91PBFVms857LyexUcIcLNAdgvaJ78uhAgfUEdaorGj6ibNRScbTVMpHaTLqO4HGXhcmfy-sccSVxx7Ug/w480-h640/be6b217e-9f60-4b90-8e47-a4279f8ef9dd.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>We ended the night with a chocolate cake Jeff ordered from my favourite new bakery: Le Patissier. It was a chocolate mousse with crispy dark chocolate biscuit layer, and then another layer of nearly NSFW salted caramel. Unbelievable. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeFsD09_Itglj09_BVJ-xxUcPk_3Hf6J9MoThFh-9kA-kaI1vloTTgzet08P1WnrmL-wV8wjR2-jvy2hXIIUAZyU1279MuPO5pCtfPYDEbf4gUyaDkSUsrfWcuphtPNCmoO_4yF-qZlHI/s2048/IMG_5391.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeFsD09_Itglj09_BVJ-xxUcPk_3Hf6J9MoThFh-9kA-kaI1vloTTgzet08P1WnrmL-wV8wjR2-jvy2hXIIUAZyU1279MuPO5pCtfPYDEbf4gUyaDkSUsrfWcuphtPNCmoO_4yF-qZlHI/w480-h640/IMG_5391.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imagine the baker writing this lol</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_am4snKCMFgijjZBaigOFGP6ioAy8WAOUq99WoXJjDnO2-Y6eq3htrWOiQ-Met9-pJVbcmlYIrvudoJjF0rXIPzmG7QQZLPdLdJyCsyJ918m5gpyEeTmal21FvBe8YR9A0UIX6iMyNg/s1984/29475ab4-0076-47bc-8405-698e621dd729.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_am4snKCMFgijjZBaigOFGP6ioAy8WAOUq99WoXJjDnO2-Y6eq3htrWOiQ-Met9-pJVbcmlYIrvudoJjF0rXIPzmG7QQZLPdLdJyCsyJ918m5gpyEeTmal21FvBe8YR9A0UIX6iMyNg/w480-h640/29475ab4-0076-47bc-8405-698e621dd729.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>So anyway, I won't dwell on what turning 35 means to me, where I am in life, what I have and haven't accomplished...because nobody has ever thought their way into happiness, only out of it. What I will dwell on is how good that cake was, because neuroses and worries and wishing things were different..those aren't real. Cake, however, is. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-76471369038934578632021-09-14T06:32:00.005-04:002021-09-14T06:45:57.609-04:00August Roundup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89SqfxfyWCUUsHrxrPG4a0SOm_9cpOB05i8AsRHoZfdzOnzJuVMzogQHX6Kk-aw9sbieoz9cRpiEhE4Dln_bb2BSqYpiffi8Ri6QJM1LHgZ7HtQ9icHTVzDYiysn9EBfhOPnMwFDYMew/s1984/ea80d19b-43b2-4b7b-a1a7-203a83449326.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89SqfxfyWCUUsHrxrPG4a0SOm_9cpOB05i8AsRHoZfdzOnzJuVMzogQHX6Kk-aw9sbieoz9cRpiEhE4Dln_bb2BSqYpiffi8Ri6QJM1LHgZ7HtQ9icHTVzDYiysn9EBfhOPnMwFDYMew/w480-h640/ea80d19b-43b2-4b7b-a1a7-203a83449326.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><p>-"And some people want to be called Mister when they're a <i>woman</i>. You'd have to be so careful these days!"</p><p>-"Oh"</p><p><i>A conversation between a patient and her Chinese acupuncturist (who spoke no English), at the acupuncture clinic I frequented this month. </i></p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>The majority of my August was devoted to physiotherapy, tiger balm, ice packs, heat packs, acupuncture in the stinkiest of stinky acupuncture clinics (not a bad thing!), and one of the best trips Jeff and I have ever been on: Tallinn!</p><p><br /></p><p>My <u>Learning Something</u> and <u>Something Productive</u> were comprised of learning about intermittent fasting and acupuncture, and I have to say while acupuncture didn't seem to work, intermittent fasting was very effective. The pain in my shoulders subsided by about 70%, about four weeks in. I'm not yet sure if I'll stick with it in the longterm because of how it may affect my thyroid, but I'll definitely give it a shot for the foreseeable. </p><p><br /></p><p>My <u>Fitness Challenge</u> was to get out of my comfort zone and start doing laps at the swimming pool. The one and only thing I had to overcome, when it comes to swimming at the pool, was wearing the horrendous mandatory swimming cap. I've long dreaded this awful adornment, and it alone has stopped me from trying triathlons (really, I'm not being dramatic). Around the same time I started swimming, I was also very conscious of the massive purple dots on my back from the cupping I had gotten, so I also purchased a swimsuit that covers your entire back. You'd think there are cool ones out there. There aren't. So I, a human condom, stepped into the water for the first time in years this August, and swam, and got out, and pulled the swimsuit to release the suction created by the water, which of course made an echoing fart sound, and walked out of the pool a polyester dickhead. </p><p><br /></p><p>This all pales in comparison to my <u>Something New</u>: bringing a guy to my hometown. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcrqD1iFh3teKrovL28tl7EauHPOaPC3MC78E5qY1W_q4cZGml7SYGV7YIe5sOWzLb1Zd7nf_9IsOgivG77IDnUWcAyocYpISbbRDoHNtBmw5o57hIQKYO3kcBksyhsZcrHXWrx_Ibr4/s1984/5dc65407-24ab-4dc1-a419-3e00ec62e885.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcrqD1iFh3teKrovL28tl7EauHPOaPC3MC78E5qY1W_q4cZGml7SYGV7YIe5sOWzLb1Zd7nf_9IsOgivG77IDnUWcAyocYpISbbRDoHNtBmw5o57hIQKYO3kcBksyhsZcrHXWrx_Ibr4/w480-h640/5dc65407-24ab-4dc1-a419-3e00ec62e885.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I've never wanted anyone else to see Tallinn, because they'd never know the Tallinn I knew: the little glow-in-the-dark beetles sitting on poison ivy bushes by our apartment, the bouquets of Lilly of the Valley in newspaper cones outside the Old Town, the smell of the first banana I ever tasted, the day we left for Canada. These are captured only in the photographs of my memory. I have no pictures, but I remember how they felt, and I know they'll never feel that way again. Tallinn now is not like Tallinn from thirty years ago, and I'm well aware of the nightmarish Soviet buildings that, without their little poison ivy beetles, just make a person say "Err, how long are we here for, again?" </p><p>Jeff is different though. I figured since he's probably here to stay (lol), I might as well pull the bandage off and show him where I really grew up. We booked a five day trip because that was the only flight itinerary available, and I cringed at the idea of having to fill five days of activities. As it turned out, we barely had time to see and do everything! </p><p>The weather was perfect. It was warm, the sky was blue, and the sun set on the little houses in the Old Town in a cinematic, almost theatrical way. We stayed at the Hotell Palace and the staff could not have been friendlier or more accommodating. Our room was gorgeous and there was a speaker in our BATHROOM so you could take a shhhhhh</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKLyVP-Q0VxmUfz-U0CWY-Z7bI1mNG9KShN3X7HL9Coi-0JY-g5Dd0ZiBdL7hb03CaktCHCCqjANw9VDOJTSHkw3mB8CDdeg4Rtjcnuabu3ZXzg_Y7l2cHyH7QJkEiCr5xhEyY4vjSV0I/s2048/IMG_4735.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKLyVP-Q0VxmUfz-U0CWY-Z7bI1mNG9KShN3X7HL9Coi-0JY-g5Dd0ZiBdL7hb03CaktCHCCqjANw9VDOJTSHkw3mB8CDdeg4Rtjcnuabu3ZXzg_Y7l2cHyH7QJkEiCr5xhEyY4vjSV0I/w480-h640/IMG_4735.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFN-d5bJVvpNpnQNHqVDY4F4NUTe6b4lliNmJqMc_hW7eWE8-62e9JxX4PBbELMjXyVSciu0LrtYOOOMvRTPErlQ7-PrlQZAsBIJ3lKjv2Lyplto23LdpTHB8NJUZXPbz5GGIwu6CIL8/s2048/IMG_4734.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFN-d5bJVvpNpnQNHqVDY4F4NUTe6b4lliNmJqMc_hW7eWE8-62e9JxX4PBbELMjXyVSciu0LrtYOOOMvRTPErlQ7-PrlQZAsBIJ3lKjv2Lyplto23LdpTHB8NJUZXPbz5GGIwu6CIL8/w480-h640/IMG_4734.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSr5OC0FXQDPQMBGWg7utCzpRJzLsRX1MOjN0bzXVk0tyzyALEUXXuzm6ySW6loe4YWn3SDG-8WplHQAuWV2a8LVKIfa-gS63ouX6fUm3ZrHrHKfnS9R61-96WlRJCBw9KfydGPprtUeI/s1984/IMG_5092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSr5OC0FXQDPQMBGWg7utCzpRJzLsRX1MOjN0bzXVk0tyzyALEUXXuzm6ySW6loe4YWn3SDG-8WplHQAuWV2a8LVKIfa-gS63ouX6fUm3ZrHrHKfnS9R61-96WlRJCBw9KfydGPprtUeI/w480-h640/IMG_5092.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>shower and listen to all your favourite Eurotrash hits. It was amazing.</p><p>There was a spa with a Finnish sauna and steam room, and we ordered cocktails which they brought down and handed to us while we sat in the jacuzzi like some kind of Kings or something.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8YP3Axh7FJ1nb4aO4Nen5VAUEjiqpcLk1D-asg_AFjF4GE1v5LORLabVW66mOk-i19qW4lEiRsLkDJZhejZhG-XDPw025EqnZqsFq2udNBF8f-UkOATRhZhjOfg-i8MKYfnDuFzxEY2M/s1136/C62F9E5C-7C7E-4D95-A9F4-FCF5B68ADB01.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8YP3Axh7FJ1nb4aO4Nen5VAUEjiqpcLk1D-asg_AFjF4GE1v5LORLabVW66mOk-i19qW4lEiRsLkDJZhejZhG-XDPw025EqnZqsFq2udNBF8f-UkOATRhZhjOfg-i8MKYfnDuFzxEY2M/w360-h640/C62F9E5C-7C7E-4D95-A9F4-FCF5B68ADB01.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><p>My one true goal of the trip was to find the best cakes - the ones I've been day-dreaming about as I navigate the new world comprised of thick slabs of 'sponge', slathered with jam and heavy cream - and show Jeff once and for all that there's a reason I'm so picky. We went to coffee shop after coffee shop, and grocery stores, and bakeries, and I bought about 40 cakes altogether, but alas, something had changed. Tallinn, as suspected, had now gone international. The cakes went from delicate European creations to the more robust variety, palatable and recognizable by tourists, the likes of cheesecakes and mousses. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgms8k0UyuWRXp3LxAUNs2WvPErj3ruK_kBX5gaDVnYgJIZkD2b-oRa8vARe4ITeSeqhEKF8M2lS8YtYGJ3yydX-mW68mGm7pfvkCg-kbZnoaqDgI76pgvCOLg9Lbig8KE8ncUf7SK5s0E/s1600/862a1b10-3f7c-4783-8581-34d5968a43d6.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgms8k0UyuWRXp3LxAUNs2WvPErj3ruK_kBX5gaDVnYgJIZkD2b-oRa8vARe4ITeSeqhEKF8M2lS8YtYGJ3yydX-mW68mGm7pfvkCg-kbZnoaqDgI76pgvCOLg9Lbig8KE8ncUf7SK5s0E/w480-h640/862a1b10-3f7c-4783-8581-34d5968a43d6.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was actually my favourite of the coffee shop cakes - creamy layers between a light poppyseed sponge</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1v0IKuevaa8GqqHtBmo-dz9xm_NKqLSFBS7rFphDbxnzmtxDvwQ2ZYM50TjDBlnGVJ-AJmN3WckiAEC5gN7KgqdhfqHQMGSFxK_nEF3giCuLQ4LlFi9_2ydHNmZeZRVHO5vIS8KQo5U/s2048/IMG_4758.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1v0IKuevaa8GqqHtBmo-dz9xm_NKqLSFBS7rFphDbxnzmtxDvwQ2ZYM50TjDBlnGVJ-AJmN3WckiAEC5gN7KgqdhfqHQMGSFxK_nEF3giCuLQ4LlFi9_2ydHNmZeZRVHO5vIS8KQo5U/w640-h480/IMG_4758.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRDejHPbiHT4S2FGNMhEyHDeu7dtFXwxFMHqTZMXtfbZB95m1nHa4nDeB4OAw3OY5_pnwBhHq_bGYH5385eugzaDLWDU7I-YHz70-AP5oH6RibEGQV574Lp5OydELUmJvvujduTqDR5KY/s2048/IMG_4775.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRDejHPbiHT4S2FGNMhEyHDeu7dtFXwxFMHqTZMXtfbZB95m1nHa4nDeB4OAw3OY5_pnwBhHq_bGYH5385eugzaDLWDU7I-YHz70-AP5oH6RibEGQV574Lp5OydELUmJvvujduTqDR5KY/w480-h640/IMG_4775.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first of many trial cakes..</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwuOr5LRpvg3JmPFikMTYuuAhGOhYy1vLn2-oK5yH6k_52d62OP1j0KZXJSHOY41ub2M9I1LJOV4aFZcXopge9EmI9TPn8_qtkZ94tU08Yc73VL3PMD1Bx5M8EupD7q6CVEJZbJWwVBH4/s2048/IMG_4832.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwuOr5LRpvg3JmPFikMTYuuAhGOhYy1vLn2-oK5yH6k_52d62OP1j0KZXJSHOY41ub2M9I1LJOV4aFZcXopge9EmI9TPn8_qtkZ94tU08Yc73VL3PMD1Bx5M8EupD7q6CVEJZbJWwVBH4/w480-h640/IMG_4832.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2TtWB4aWRvbLy6W27ZKWv_a-d3YlBVL93M3H6CQxNQ5SbpLajt8nvz0louIy8AJ6GbA4ylLqOfDVIfUGGgxaai7OgXCMzoMuEXxJjK8OLw_aBcwtCICguxKLs48EVWZHvMikfyBWdQTo/s2048/IMG_4801.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2TtWB4aWRvbLy6W27ZKWv_a-d3YlBVL93M3H6CQxNQ5SbpLajt8nvz0louIy8AJ6GbA4ylLqOfDVIfUGGgxaai7OgXCMzoMuEXxJjK8OLw_aBcwtCICguxKLs48EVWZHvMikfyBWdQTo/w480-h640/IMG_4801.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFEkSEbNDEg-TK49ZDWpdunOG-ZWmApKzS8zyiHT6qMYEdo6h0MyesorryxWCVDqplq03B4Fy3hbdVcfoZusvfG1wLMlZxS7HFgsP__1vyxtolWO2iIfr5hMD8bn9sySpL9rfHgHh0Xag/s2048/IMG_4830.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFEkSEbNDEg-TK49ZDWpdunOG-ZWmApKzS8zyiHT6qMYEdo6h0MyesorryxWCVDqplq03B4Fy3hbdVcfoZusvfG1wLMlZxS7HFgsP__1vyxtolWO2iIfr5hMD8bn9sySpL9rfHgHh0Xag/w480-h640/IMG_4830.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>I then led Jeff to what I thought would be the check-mate of cake shops, impervious to globalization and stoic in its commitment to tradition: a cake shop my mother took me to frequently, on days I didn't want to go to school: Maiasmokk. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJFBpwCc90BDJLUkQ78nuZhPfBMXKGXN2htuOcJ4u-dq6M4rQMtVXHo9JcuZ1Arn501aCKFteNuopjxU4aqXdxrr-BmxF1pQWNDw1ATaKmRQ6t3-dgJWu3IPIlZT0fOH6rDI3NOt6EG64/s1984/bf72e898-f79f-4637-861c-b0d5946e5a56.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJFBpwCc90BDJLUkQ78nuZhPfBMXKGXN2htuOcJ4u-dq6M4rQMtVXHo9JcuZ1Arn501aCKFteNuopjxU4aqXdxrr-BmxF1pQWNDw1ATaKmRQ6t3-dgJWu3IPIlZT0fOH6rDI3NOt6EG64/w480-h640/bf72e898-f79f-4637-861c-b0d5946e5a56.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdHeuEjkhGWxcwonZpRopHlZEZoXm1utM-iG1TSHEv5iRHHHBUi72kNuvPHjHq3NO3Lt24xMxnrD7c4UZv5jFjVEoXreeslkaJbd6n8qS6NeV6fxSvit2xF6MWwyni1XpoNTnqECWdRJk/s1984/cfef4564-4f52-49ac-8a38-159de897e657.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1984" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdHeuEjkhGWxcwonZpRopHlZEZoXm1utM-iG1TSHEv5iRHHHBUi72kNuvPHjHq3NO3Lt24xMxnrD7c4UZv5jFjVEoXreeslkaJbd6n8qS6NeV6fxSvit2xF6MWwyni1XpoNTnqECWdRJk/w640-h480/cfef4564-4f52-49ac-8a38-159de897e657.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEPQRAXwjOiwuKHKaOOY81HNMt1L1fcpXpPzGoEu9jJZfD4QXBC5_DbI-BktpXj7NlMNkz64qhkWE0FgxB4qLEPf2cnjMwDx0-gXFiVpK32wmY1A7TtC_Mj24IpfKesEsjaTAMFT3gJ2A/s1984/PHOTO-2021-09-13-09-34-24.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEPQRAXwjOiwuKHKaOOY81HNMt1L1fcpXpPzGoEu9jJZfD4QXBC5_DbI-BktpXj7NlMNkz64qhkWE0FgxB4qLEPf2cnjMwDx0-gXFiVpK32wmY1A7TtC_Mj24IpfKesEsjaTAMFT3gJ2A/w480-h640/PHOTO-2021-09-13-09-34-24.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I ordered a cake I used to order when I was four years old, called 'Chestnut'. Jeff, of course, ordered a cheesecake. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3mj128r8XBD0RGt4s2V8q2KV3Lbrh2JfD-BLB-0jjBqD61VFoFFuekH-9Uuu_62D-bEi7I1oJi0S79jQyqv3KQICWLNiNoSSuPr0JRmNKhDUQkYZQpGjE252BAdD3I6ve1Ai0tWdGEAM/s1984/PHOTO-2021-09-13-09-34-23+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3mj128r8XBD0RGt4s2V8q2KV3Lbrh2JfD-BLB-0jjBqD61VFoFFuekH-9Uuu_62D-bEi7I1oJi0S79jQyqv3KQICWLNiNoSSuPr0JRmNKhDUQkYZQpGjE252BAdD3I6ve1Ai0tWdGEAM/w480-h640/PHOTO-2021-09-13-09-34-23+%25281%2529.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>My cake was dry and altogether unimpressive, while his cheesecake, a creation I wouldn't look at twice, was absolutely delicious.</p><p>I never expected that cakes, my raison d'être, would also serve to teach me possibly the most important lesson of this decade: stop trying to find the past. It's not there anymore.</p><p>Conversely, everything that we discovered together for the first time was incredible. We found a coffee shop tucked away on the Smallest Street in Tallinn (Saiakaik). The coffees were said to be the best in Tallinn, and maybe they were, but it was the little moment at the little wooden table, with the rising sun over the orange rooftops, that made our morning exceptional.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9UosDAPk-IgO86_MBEm3fVV5kmnB68hAaEHwiWemwdxTFB99PvTFLAy0HkWyj7nkS5o-BKZgaWN0U13ltl8ZcHaodppeyMLFmaq2F7u2SQGLFhPnQEKz4HLpGRoDNf31MgfG86qe7AFE/s1136/AFD9EE7C-F2EE-4233-A1A4-8846A20B21B2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9UosDAPk-IgO86_MBEm3fVV5kmnB68hAaEHwiWemwdxTFB99PvTFLAy0HkWyj7nkS5o-BKZgaWN0U13ltl8ZcHaodppeyMLFmaq2F7u2SQGLFhPnQEKz4HLpGRoDNf31MgfG86qe7AFE/w360-h640/AFD9EE7C-F2EE-4233-A1A4-8846A20B21B2.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><p>We also discovered a gorgeous little coffee shop called Kiosk No. 2, where the interior decor was luxurious but understated, with lush green velour and plant details:</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUgfLwG1W-pSqfNImYgxX1fkEtiGdUukXzGs2YLMBRFBGBYYMoDv_xj9X612ylKIzg_Z0gwIXzF9ICU4hv3I0NDQWrHhv_i-333VB0bqtCpMSm1FUjABqZavINVfiJsy-I90tTojWKRY/s1136/64FDC1D5-CDE8-442E-B2B5-1411F61E889D.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUgfLwG1W-pSqfNImYgxX1fkEtiGdUukXzGs2YLMBRFBGBYYMoDv_xj9X612ylKIzg_Z0gwIXzF9ICU4hv3I0NDQWrHhv_i-333VB0bqtCpMSm1FUjABqZavINVfiJsy-I90tTojWKRY/w360-h640/64FDC1D5-CDE8-442E-B2B5-1411F61E889D.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLEb3IEIxMJlVgjx7lt_urVmBL53I3dSOESARdPEpaMPUQgIlaWQ0yGx72oM9EEevIoD13eHhwdCLODjnQ4rOyf9LnZRqF654lgthA2xU8maGeGs7mC3jezlxPXEkJSqR0yFEpeBUgW4g/s2048/IMG_4821.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLEb3IEIxMJlVgjx7lt_urVmBL53I3dSOESARdPEpaMPUQgIlaWQ0yGx72oM9EEevIoD13eHhwdCLODjnQ4rOyf9LnZRqF654lgthA2xU8maGeGs7mC3jezlxPXEkJSqR0yFEpeBUgW4g/w480-h640/IMG_4821.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAAm5v8S6_5zgHbKI50Ahtk6fF2K62ymNnUuwGMs8rjpv-432a2R2ATRbXTXa6AaKgnBjNDO4wydU0wPZ3I5dc81ibtR0ISi7kjpUuKcB5j9lhgzIGOfm8wBtnfsI08bPYuMOaHV2Nx4o/s1984/IMG_5090.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAAm5v8S6_5zgHbKI50Ahtk6fF2K62ymNnUuwGMs8rjpv-432a2R2ATRbXTXa6AaKgnBjNDO4wydU0wPZ3I5dc81ibtR0ISi7kjpUuKcB5j9lhgzIGOfm8wBtnfsI08bPYuMOaHV2Nx4o/w480-h640/IMG_5090.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>After trying Russian, Georgian, and Medieval Estonian food, on our last night we decided to try a modern Estonian restaurant called Kolm Sibulat (Three Onions), and there, I had one of the best meals of my life. We had kimchi pork belly, a carrot tartare (insane), and a fried chicken cutlet on curried cauliflower and pomegranate. I've never been to a modern restaurant in Estonia before, so again, it was so lovely to make a new tradition.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi486-LagDjVcBve3toqAtEDWuSg_akc8GDSNLUUiuT89rcjztS1hLSYXK1fJzD7TxxVe5fN_-oBLr1Mu42zick4beMEsMcAkkhqlSjuJYzt_Uam-Ht5pejLdVvSZ67xeorxTZ3IwVUD18/s1136/311EAD6A-2D8D-44E8-8C77-A1039A4BEF95.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi486-LagDjVcBve3toqAtEDWuSg_akc8GDSNLUUiuT89rcjztS1hLSYXK1fJzD7TxxVe5fN_-oBLr1Mu42zick4beMEsMcAkkhqlSjuJYzt_Uam-Ht5pejLdVvSZ67xeorxTZ3IwVUD18/w360-h640/311EAD6A-2D8D-44E8-8C77-A1039A4BEF95.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYUbA9Oca3hys3nGp_htQWLZ2E7OqhIZQFTEm8HOJyXCKFYsYV4GJCoxNBqnrCQY53WyanMUllffolj3dHt8SXzFpr6lzUXLOTU3SU83E8zqMU26JsCRgv81g_YQ6Nxo5uG3fZlbVnosI/s1136/DF6A8069-E498-4751-AE19-11109068FF52.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYUbA9Oca3hys3nGp_htQWLZ2E7OqhIZQFTEm8HOJyXCKFYsYV4GJCoxNBqnrCQY53WyanMUllffolj3dHt8SXzFpr6lzUXLOTU3SU83E8zqMU26JsCRgv81g_YQ6Nxo5uG3fZlbVnosI/w360-h640/DF6A8069-E498-4751-AE19-11109068FF52.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKO54u2HK-0CaSW163te04XKLYGydelG43xILT50PhQJeZTIgkjF9kTCuBXEuyhiLtTTcy9B3O8p288xenUjsScLJHOHkThemlCaVckWcorASNA74h7mhQ8f70WtpT6Uyo2Rb-8XBrwo/s1136/ECCC5C54-9F42-451A-A5D3-5B4E42E7C643.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="622" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKO54u2HK-0CaSW163te04XKLYGydelG43xILT50PhQJeZTIgkjF9kTCuBXEuyhiLtTTcy9B3O8p288xenUjsScLJHOHkThemlCaVckWcorASNA74h7mhQ8f70WtpT6Uyo2Rb-8XBrwo/w360-h622/ECCC5C54-9F42-451A-A5D3-5B4E42E7C643.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr7Qty31c44oEts0G9RcWzHSQd6TvWaS4We4E-1G-lG_iOx8bRY2iZXKjpMlMDmPFz0T5Bxp5CK27b3Eqb8V2YJLadLIxhnsIZI1aTEM-zk_KciR5JGafL01cYGsnZ_nh7xaOmn_fbw7k/s1984/PHOTO-2021-09-13-09-35-38_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr7Qty31c44oEts0G9RcWzHSQd6TvWaS4We4E-1G-lG_iOx8bRY2iZXKjpMlMDmPFz0T5Bxp5CK27b3Eqb8V2YJLadLIxhnsIZI1aTEM-zk_KciR5JGafL01cYGsnZ_nh7xaOmn_fbw7k/w480-h640/PHOTO-2021-09-13-09-35-38_1.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>We also discovered Estonian boozy milkshake 'cocktails', and while I've loved the alcohol-free ones since I was little (the combination of vanilla ice cream and plum juice is just out of this world delicious), I didn't know that the alcoholic variety could be so, so good. We found a speakeasy type bar hidden atop a souvenir shop, and there, they served insanely good cocktails. Jeff's cocktails included a blackberry mojito and a raspberry mojito, and you'd think they blended an entire forest of berries into both because the berry taste was so sharply pronounced. My cocktail was a combination of vanilla ice cream, vanilla vodka, passion fruit, and mango. A grilled marshmallow sat on top. It was superb. Bonus: we ordered like ten drinks and the waiters were stoned and only charged us for five of them.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifObKKnAbQxbUioJipsFfaKBgLfqGelqya6cBaGtim2bRP8jUH6NwE-nvIVL5kF5Bk05J8dVZKc6i8K22Jyyu3XbQfSSrOE18Z8DWFPG03KFNWNh4b6md08FymCFtLAYbGiWFAsF8e-JI/s1136/1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifObKKnAbQxbUioJipsFfaKBgLfqGelqya6cBaGtim2bRP8jUH6NwE-nvIVL5kF5Bk05J8dVZKc6i8K22Jyyu3XbQfSSrOE18Z8DWFPG03KFNWNh4b6md08FymCFtLAYbGiWFAsF8e-JI/w360-h640/1.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE5ruGVB21JEh0uKvnN7By5J1jXXZluqL9MD_i6vYUI2eNVF9_87h5w8rBszoHnnn0CHz8AOFab0wycD70TqB_t51fVhivwPh0J8_3kl2OT_hBegROLZLJUps63AZTh2oWEPJmI8TRlso/s2048/2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE5ruGVB21JEh0uKvnN7By5J1jXXZluqL9MD_i6vYUI2eNVF9_87h5w8rBszoHnnn0CHz8AOFab0wycD70TqB_t51fVhivwPh0J8_3kl2OT_hBegROLZLJUps63AZTh2oWEPJmI8TRlso/w640-h480/2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CFSfku7LzhrpEaTiUoQQBWZS1AUe9_gZZQMgtiiPVluC4mgumTOkd2VChIYAYzGortAZszFbQOk5RAfZnqP4FZuKnom2DYcjzi6p9vdr0mceyyAz-BD4O-Ao8G-k3QludqZCiQB9P4A/s1984/3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CFSfku7LzhrpEaTiUoQQBWZS1AUe9_gZZQMgtiiPVluC4mgumTOkd2VChIYAYzGortAZszFbQOk5RAfZnqP4FZuKnom2DYcjzi6p9vdr0mceyyAz-BD4O-Ao8G-k3QludqZCiQB9P4A/w480-h640/3.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>We also discovered a little area called Rotterman, which had a very cool exposed brick/deconstructed/Brooklyn vibe. It was comprised of living quarters, shops, galleries, and a place called Rost that (again) had impeccable flat whites and cardamom buns..</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUsGCBHxAxdCaBDsHLAtQUcNjfN3dk3FI2y9_YtVz1VkEPLVPN7yjHYHDNPUnzx8Y-jy6icjhGEcvgcxDYwL0Sdga29FPnRcWK_mo1LF5NV8CV_pA3iW8uMFhowTa_4GLxBePONLWQbJY/s1136/6C93E36F-1FEC-4597-8545-EFD790B26DE5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUsGCBHxAxdCaBDsHLAtQUcNjfN3dk3FI2y9_YtVz1VkEPLVPN7yjHYHDNPUnzx8Y-jy6icjhGEcvgcxDYwL0Sdga29FPnRcWK_mo1LF5NV8CV_pA3iW8uMFhowTa_4GLxBePONLWQbJY/w360-h640/6C93E36F-1FEC-4597-8545-EFD790B26DE5.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHozg-qMPPL1gEqtioCwSmJoiAkY6V-AtWsADIldHkejSdW5Gb-OTPoco2fLvNvUCe4jPjwwUAlg67vPZBBasd6tZgG7eaCTC_NFCqYO8T5h2t9P9pl5NVmMQTLcgRfUXZZy_M8_2YjI/s2048/IMG_4843.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHozg-qMPPL1gEqtioCwSmJoiAkY6V-AtWsADIldHkejSdW5Gb-OTPoco2fLvNvUCe4jPjwwUAlg67vPZBBasd6tZgG7eaCTC_NFCqYO8T5h2t9P9pl5NVmMQTLcgRfUXZZy_M8_2YjI/w480-h640/IMG_4843.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_fqMi_yhi8nAYXC9pj3fbLkJPtG2XUZu7t_aUT5QPzRWzudHV39aO7NkZq9Gsyn1V8AOSpgU1PTInfJ-hd2RWkQpE5b2C0rbKraJEkgOesEO-7WLeZBA6RJ9ikaQVYN3acerGMid7JNA/s1984/IMG_5086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1984" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_fqMi_yhi8nAYXC9pj3fbLkJPtG2XUZu7t_aUT5QPzRWzudHV39aO7NkZq9Gsyn1V8AOSpgU1PTInfJ-hd2RWkQpE5b2C0rbKraJEkgOesEO-7WLeZBA6RJ9ikaQVYN3acerGMid7JNA/w640-h480/IMG_5086.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Another amazing place we discovered for the first time was an area called Telliskivi Creative City. Again, it had really cool Brooklyn vibes, set between abandoned train tracks and a port, and comprised of warehouse-like buildings, some of which were galleries, and others restaurants, bars, or shops. We had a couple of beers and listened to a playlist of exceptionally offensive music (Andre Williams, look him up). We saw a DJ spinning tracks in a tiny shipping container and we tried jet black vanilla ice cream. I didn't know this side of Tallinn even existed, and I'm so glad we found it.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqjnpT1sa71b5im0r3SneNYxqoqfSAhYFB2CcCE9tY_XGxyJCgWz4WW8AZWZicwjm8-zvnIeYRZo6taWfWPHsXpDwK-PEGpZtUhhJ63yoemgVFU2F_pbU_qGYyuJ_7oYPCGR2jk6poCOo/s2048/IMG_4851.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqjnpT1sa71b5im0r3SneNYxqoqfSAhYFB2CcCE9tY_XGxyJCgWz4WW8AZWZicwjm8-zvnIeYRZo6taWfWPHsXpDwK-PEGpZtUhhJ63yoemgVFU2F_pbU_qGYyuJ_7oYPCGR2jk6poCOo/w480-h640/IMG_4851.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3H9Nfrt3fEuwtBLE0KeK1ukNVlmeAj5WD5wRgNH_3ODqsvOERIUwstTuUodudJs8yBMr3XgqWHUaTkdWMD3q3a4jsDSYC95MH7-bsJAAMb6oZt_6lKoXekrp8yesxF0dYknJrFUsdqrs/s2048/IMG_4852.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3H9Nfrt3fEuwtBLE0KeK1ukNVlmeAj5WD5wRgNH_3ODqsvOERIUwstTuUodudJs8yBMr3XgqWHUaTkdWMD3q3a4jsDSYC95MH7-bsJAAMb6oZt_6lKoXekrp8yesxF0dYknJrFUsdqrs/w480-h640/IMG_4852.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIf-x2GwoxAYWe5DhzB_lZXuGuHnDwRNBagMsEq5me6hBOplW6pehe2rHQb0my232QxWm8FMmYalEsH6eLHxwxLo88COyaSH_eFW7-t5FeE0NBxk3JhxK1HyhgHqrI0OJ5l6Zg6_kftc/s2048/IMG_4854.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIf-x2GwoxAYWe5DhzB_lZXuGuHnDwRNBagMsEq5me6hBOplW6pehe2rHQb0my232QxWm8FMmYalEsH6eLHxwxLo88COyaSH_eFW7-t5FeE0NBxk3JhxK1HyhgHqrI0OJ5l6Zg6_kftc/w480-h640/IMG_4854.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP4U471GDQN73NYSXOt7ojr1Aj4pKLJNrzkKlEyFIIOI19fSRc7bn_INlwEFLK6MoHNxTOHFNQ_zBrTV1nyLPfYe2I42If5gCasXgR6cDixYCQJK3mjOb6Yu07a6Xl2OiCSe3s39ngHRI/s2048/IMG_4860.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP4U471GDQN73NYSXOt7ojr1Aj4pKLJNrzkKlEyFIIOI19fSRc7bn_INlwEFLK6MoHNxTOHFNQ_zBrTV1nyLPfYe2I42If5gCasXgR6cDixYCQJK3mjOb6Yu07a6Xl2OiCSe3s39ngHRI/w480-h640/IMG_4860.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_f68x015AOrdM6HfqsBPMGoGVK0fuNqtPqNaKZdn2da6ImPZ7hTy8DKxMspdFKmQ7Wo_l3VIsYu00W7_EHqku56macgmthgqQk65GS_xXNNasNbN0DnGlie8dO4NG__hJf-1syU7qnL8/s2048/IMG_4862.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_f68x015AOrdM6HfqsBPMGoGVK0fuNqtPqNaKZdn2da6ImPZ7hTy8DKxMspdFKmQ7Wo_l3VIsYu00W7_EHqku56macgmthgqQk65GS_xXNNasNbN0DnGlie8dO4NG__hJf-1syU7qnL8/w480-h640/IMG_4862.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>We found a science lab themed bar one night, where the drinks came in test tube shots. The bar itself was lit up in flashing lights, and for a while we forgot we aren't sixteen anymore, and drank test tubes of Urine Sample and Cure for Covid (banana and raspberry..I hope). I'm so glad places like this still exist.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhELAoa8cyXUNJHUZC1MN9yP4PnzqEKSs50xxyuZHFBSRieu0B21qT7K1WZBWCV77FUE7wf6r_ZSdBVyTUHKWCnF74sb23uJi1Mhr6ujleABJQINyaZxg_2VmjVcK0cjXLWpIu3ApaGNWY/s2048/IMG_4811.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhELAoa8cyXUNJHUZC1MN9yP4PnzqEKSs50xxyuZHFBSRieu0B21qT7K1WZBWCV77FUE7wf6r_ZSdBVyTUHKWCnF74sb23uJi1Mhr6ujleABJQINyaZxg_2VmjVcK0cjXLWpIu3ApaGNWY/w480-h640/IMG_4811.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>We also sat in the Town Square every evening. There was an old Russian man playing piano, and the atmosphere was very calm and relaxed, with tourists at a minimum, and beers relatively cheap. <div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcEfex9Y4C8haaXssC8_vLn67fOBRqS9RvXIF2xx5GguTWvjsZwRAPYbyC_h1EeeuxVZlXG44rTVScgbLEPP7-kEl764Y3_KtLQ8atUTu_9T5E62fswSYBqev72xN1ByLoDGsRWFfRBmc/s1984/623b5ddd-6073-4ccf-810f-6df04c9ed9ac.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1984" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcEfex9Y4C8haaXssC8_vLn67fOBRqS9RvXIF2xx5GguTWvjsZwRAPYbyC_h1EeeuxVZlXG44rTVScgbLEPP7-kEl764Y3_KtLQ8atUTu_9T5E62fswSYBqev72xN1ByLoDGsRWFfRBmc/w640-h480/623b5ddd-6073-4ccf-810f-6df04c9ed9ac.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktRF1z6M0LJ4IXCv9Txs2LMfSVP2_hyrglm4FVR_9KMLudpP7k6toskuFQtdkfJGzu821Ssd-GJEPPnDEYRYbVoE2MmqgeJn_kVx5Cy9z-YccAUII-sU0wG-JmXccXHpdNjDxNGzMBz4/s1136/5380F3C7-7804-460C-B4CF-C6B273616C97.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktRF1z6M0LJ4IXCv9Txs2LMfSVP2_hyrglm4FVR_9KMLudpP7k6toskuFQtdkfJGzu821Ssd-GJEPPnDEYRYbVoE2MmqgeJn_kVx5Cy9z-YccAUII-sU0wG-JmXccXHpdNjDxNGzMBz4/w360-h640/5380F3C7-7804-460C-B4CF-C6B273616C97.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg68JlUmSIi1yJZGAjtyTMMQYr5CJPg3Qp5UyL_MhWOoApWgkWizRin97GUmtxlVaUqRGUMp_DQe8CCYvh35Jo0P8ucGOo-vo5-q_vCRYRoZxelrwCEqQsWHqM7U4V0flHG3oeBsL-g4Rs/s1984/343503d0-3bbf-46d3-a30a-d66109c7a9b7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg68JlUmSIi1yJZGAjtyTMMQYr5CJPg3Qp5UyL_MhWOoApWgkWizRin97GUmtxlVaUqRGUMp_DQe8CCYvh35Jo0P8ucGOo-vo5-q_vCRYRoZxelrwCEqQsWHqM7U4V0flHG3oeBsL-g4Rs/w480-h640/343503d0-3bbf-46d3-a30a-d66109c7a9b7.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBSl3NAtdVC3S-O4rTGysVMVR4Kn1JBSATJ9Vy75AJgtIchoaYOoFjRhGbgp1JuNtskqmpMN9_WWCZ5xY9E4A_Vtvij5WTcxCpLTZ8Ki2Oo6eNyN7OgX6YG-fXo3-ZXxzTDjMnY5fariA/s1600/PHOTO-2021-09-13-09-34-25.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBSl3NAtdVC3S-O4rTGysVMVR4Kn1JBSATJ9Vy75AJgtIchoaYOoFjRhGbgp1JuNtskqmpMN9_WWCZ5xY9E4A_Vtvij5WTcxCpLTZ8Ki2Oo6eNyN7OgX6YG-fXo3-ZXxzTDjMnY5fariA/w640-h480/PHOTO-2021-09-13-09-34-25.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpW4tjfXadpBWs2GLPCfluUKrdIoEzmbvf9ysV14J2me6i5mvbH9cEapVzbnOnGqJFZ8u4KwkXbhPoF2EyTEvWvDYrW5vOQU_6O97NU83u0jMD_5UYvpxmul2eyJ53HllrmCvq9tLkLuU/s1984/11b99ff3-c76b-4349-83fd-a77037325e8b.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1984" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpW4tjfXadpBWs2GLPCfluUKrdIoEzmbvf9ysV14J2me6i5mvbH9cEapVzbnOnGqJFZ8u4KwkXbhPoF2EyTEvWvDYrW5vOQU_6O97NU83u0jMD_5UYvpxmul2eyJ53HllrmCvq9tLkLuU/w640-h480/11b99ff3-c76b-4349-83fd-a77037325e8b.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWRDBoYyyMyfWAL9VWFdrIu36PTMbI4jYMEla0dyEOW0_Z8VZfgHZnPRV-dtHghghVA-2TBZzNoLFM6aC_z7yLg1_lt-37wM2qgpa-qlhKMuq9oTiwMOxiz5EYrgwXpBLcr8NG7oRzkig/s1600/6ff0f969-93ff-4911-82c5-f2f7e30ec1bc.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWRDBoYyyMyfWAL9VWFdrIu36PTMbI4jYMEla0dyEOW0_Z8VZfgHZnPRV-dtHghghVA-2TBZzNoLFM6aC_z7yLg1_lt-37wM2qgpa-qlhKMuq9oTiwMOxiz5EYrgwXpBLcr8NG7oRzkig/w480-h640/6ff0f969-93ff-4911-82c5-f2f7e30ec1bc.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>It was surreal to walk by my old building, where I spent the first few years of my life. The front path was now covered in trees, and the poison ivy bushes were still there, but there were no beetles. Jeff was very polite and didn't freak out at how scary some of the buildings were in that area.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidOgQGJKKDmZAgjp21RGq5jnBFCL7nNvT41XyUhEjmH-rbdoGufyzjDfnytyMRcc5VRX3Fv39Rw0o6nA0XSb7aXev0Gtb4MgKTzvSgc2YRAh_jpUEMNUe_L3jZ0iFLZXiaDMWVn2EzGdo/s1984/369b97d2-5cc1-4a23-9271-98c24095b4b5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidOgQGJKKDmZAgjp21RGq5jnBFCL7nNvT41XyUhEjmH-rbdoGufyzjDfnytyMRcc5VRX3Fv39Rw0o6nA0XSb7aXev0Gtb4MgKTzvSgc2YRAh_jpUEMNUe_L3jZ0iFLZXiaDMWVn2EzGdo/w480-h640/369b97d2-5cc1-4a23-9271-98c24095b4b5.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDbzO_Gg78DiISlGSfWCagYuwikg7uzG4Y8PZEC12cTVsw0NdLd2reG7k26lYXwJO8G278gUeOFI8LshFMtBHkSSmhasK3UXBW0U-QRdsMocpCX8B6hB3-BhqcA74ZHiGXfd0OzmYZaQ/s2048/IMG_4770.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDbzO_Gg78DiISlGSfWCagYuwikg7uzG4Y8PZEC12cTVsw0NdLd2reG7k26lYXwJO8G278gUeOFI8LshFMtBHkSSmhasK3UXBW0U-QRdsMocpCX8B6hB3-BhqcA74ZHiGXfd0OzmYZaQ/w480-h640/IMG_4770.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwmeo_U0_LPb1iojd5o6FDDQYy0ebZc5M3gfoYz5a5-3KncanNbVRQYEQAgnpi1PqEk8GKZhHyq8-acswK6-R_5P4fAHQDukT320khi3jACb2HySnp0C1w59vjHwCqS2LXmqusdd1_-UE/s2048/31ba382c-5526-4516-8235-1d3e6de1c78f.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwmeo_U0_LPb1iojd5o6FDDQYy0ebZc5M3gfoYz5a5-3KncanNbVRQYEQAgnpi1PqEk8GKZhHyq8-acswK6-R_5P4fAHQDukT320khi3jACb2HySnp0C1w59vjHwCqS2LXmqusdd1_-UE/w480-h640/31ba382c-5526-4516-8235-1d3e6de1c78f.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Jeff was equally as polite when it came to trying Russian food - in particular the Herring Under a Fur Coat, a dish that consists of beetroot, carrots, potatoes, and a layer of herring underneath it all. I'm not even a fan of it, myself. "I'm just very full," Jeff said, pushing the plate away as he does when I cook him vegetables. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOB-r48q_g_9d7e0E1b5R_2tabtuMu1CA0hvQh56lCzhDcLGZ5U1OY5L2-hzFzvDMltrk3pSdPiweHDME28boS7AGoOJvYrxIS8ILmCbRIlqsYGmpzoENOTU9Cj0EENBjB4KHvFGlqFY/s2048/IMG_4737.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOB-r48q_g_9d7e0E1b5R_2tabtuMu1CA0hvQh56lCzhDcLGZ5U1OY5L2-hzFzvDMltrk3pSdPiweHDME28boS7AGoOJvYrxIS8ILmCbRIlqsYGmpzoENOTU9Cj0EENBjB4KHvFGlqFY/w480-h640/IMG_4737.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The offending party ^</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiIqu76kUZM7n1L-cT5GW2-X-_ttveDejT3dZdu-XNI2aXqYtzQbFg1IMFQEywZZar0XfpMtz75MmcdcSUqkj_xeDSC0w27fDVZ5eedDhgo0rHqQJOVeGqUdAIj70GSwUdSMhiCKjYlTo/s2048/IMG_4740.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiIqu76kUZM7n1L-cT5GW2-X-_ttveDejT3dZdu-XNI2aXqYtzQbFg1IMFQEywZZar0XfpMtz75MmcdcSUqkj_xeDSC0w27fDVZ5eedDhgo0rHqQJOVeGqUdAIj70GSwUdSMhiCKjYlTo/w480-h640/IMG_4740.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buffet-style bites at Lido - the chicken cutlet was our favourite</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2I4KNoFRRuSTC_6m6rPriNfsdsEyMQOLswov_Lh4bPzDfr3n70BJNOggiIKl-9_HFNYUQDQe9Mrl_sHfzokkqoWiXrmAzLegm-ClV5huG29ue7GZddzhoKa_hEm4bxxR8reEwI_IJFk/s2048/IMG_4741.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2I4KNoFRRuSTC_6m6rPriNfsdsEyMQOLswov_Lh4bPzDfr3n70BJNOggiIKl-9_HFNYUQDQe9Mrl_sHfzokkqoWiXrmAzLegm-ClV5huG29ue7GZddzhoKa_hEm4bxxR8reEwI_IJFk/w480-h640/IMG_4741.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also the half-pickled cucumbers were so good!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_ISHIorN9wHMSBC69tYq40CIYDrLc8roIa_RsCMsxjfibqKVBLGyiPw6cTsDE6VZX80Jn0VlC5VlcMxWm5fGXT6r2jXS01gTkhJeKlsv9St8w4DQtWVM7vfF7BVvSiITb1qsyYnpPl0/s2048/IMG_4835.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_ISHIorN9wHMSBC69tYq40CIYDrLc8roIa_RsCMsxjfibqKVBLGyiPw6cTsDE6VZX80Jn0VlC5VlcMxWm5fGXT6r2jXS01gTkhJeKlsv9St8w4DQtWVM7vfF7BVvSiITb1qsyYnpPl0/w480-h640/IMG_4835.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Georgian restaurant was a bit lacklustre</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZyTe82rBpoh0M65XLzB5A2345esMQoHztqYzCLT8ttF_XgpqsTl9FL8OxN0WWMCqbxdqLP4bBJ8eNk7hRoWxWZq6y1tMIxtgkiTxLVahG977VcXIoq6aqp74FlDWq63OtcjkXIeYq7VU/s2048/IMG_4868.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZyTe82rBpoh0M65XLzB5A2345esMQoHztqYzCLT8ttF_XgpqsTl9FL8OxN0WWMCqbxdqLP4bBJ8eNk7hRoWxWZq6y1tMIxtgkiTxLVahG977VcXIoq6aqp74FlDWq63OtcjkXIeYq7VU/w480-h640/IMG_4868.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The one and only Salad Olivier, a Russian potato salad I make for people I like, now and then..</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9QK5oRB3YxuOagn2pk9DFxAiayJMC-WIHE7KkijVztu18VGBFO_ttZwvoSZmLYmDZA1TjbEzuOZnZ1NkYtFuq2UgAcI5hojlFsB2jCtVmWfDUkah_0E4RlTW9SqIu5kqrH1qM5F9aBM/s1984/PHOTO-2021-09-13-09-34-24_2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9QK5oRB3YxuOagn2pk9DFxAiayJMC-WIHE7KkijVztu18VGBFO_ttZwvoSZmLYmDZA1TjbEzuOZnZ1NkYtFuq2UgAcI5hojlFsB2jCtVmWfDUkah_0E4RlTW9SqIu5kqrH1qM5F9aBM/w480-h640/PHOTO-2021-09-13-09-34-24_2.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wild meat atrocity we sampled at Olde Hansa in the Old Town..yikes</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObu11Zr3SLKSZsKNO50PwiBBlZbpT0OHvrvWQnt0F_hdh92qSqSbiRq_4SmVJev16sBt_VNQABK2xa9aX8oWdbrwuyOJDG12RzAcd8Iz2K5Drdxo2C6XS886G-yMBbdLebdeU7nxzGH0/s1984/66a8cadc-0f3e-4a04-bc0d-0157a56324fb.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjObu11Zr3SLKSZsKNO50PwiBBlZbpT0OHvrvWQnt0F_hdh92qSqSbiRq_4SmVJev16sBt_VNQABK2xa9aX8oWdbrwuyOJDG12RzAcd8Iz2K5Drdxo2C6XS886G-yMBbdLebdeU7nxzGH0/w480-h640/66a8cadc-0f3e-4a04-bc0d-0157a56324fb.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duck and thyme Pelmeni (dumplings) at Pelmen in the T1 Mall</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </div></div></div></div><div>Something that caught me off guard and completely floored me was seeing students go back to school on September 1st. I didn't realize it at first, and wondered why so many kids were walking through the streets in extremely fancy clothes - I mean two piece suits, tuxedos nearly - each of them holding a bouquet of flowers. It took me a while to realize this is Estonian and Russian tradition, and I was elated to see it in real life. I've only ever seen it in photos, and my mom has told me stories of how seriously Russians and Estonians take the first day of school, but to be able to witness it all right in front of me left me speechless and just sort of...watching..like a pervert. It was so nice to see kids show this appreciation and respect for their teachers through this formality. We headed into a coffee shop that morning and saw two little girls with their parents, opening their back to school gifts - books, in Estonian. We also noticed the shop was selling First Day of School pastries, which was so incredibly endearing..</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ve1epOjihXE6qUcAWfbf0mFcTBMlqua6lRAcg3S29T4tUMiYwojgdlBgkb2NmiRDQWxQ8sfzDRqPF_VgyqqBOKX97VFUZwQYtAsJbgdGf-PMvid3qfVmsYiqJQkSPqsrb0GtnTQXAYE/s2048/IMG_4893.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ve1epOjihXE6qUcAWfbf0mFcTBMlqua6lRAcg3S29T4tUMiYwojgdlBgkb2NmiRDQWxQ8sfzDRqPF_VgyqqBOKX97VFUZwQYtAsJbgdGf-PMvid3qfVmsYiqJQkSPqsrb0GtnTQXAYE/w480-h640/IMG_4893.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoiOP4hnjV_1B7JuUZ8my6HUKvM1uK_HfJVZPBNJWJJlpzpF705fY0vxnoljs0mYl68FM5iW7r9AZbdEXDl91HjEUPZRAfd0FZA2dno9zFwu96n9J-hDGM9YJiO9yQDaL9xOLjYSYDDI/s2048/IMG_4894.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoiOP4hnjV_1B7JuUZ8my6HUKvM1uK_HfJVZPBNJWJJlpzpF705fY0vxnoljs0mYl68FM5iW7r9AZbdEXDl91HjEUPZRAfd0FZA2dno9zFwu96n9J-hDGM9YJiO9yQDaL9xOLjYSYDDI/w480-h640/IMG_4894.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Other things of note: there is a bar entirely devoted to Depeche Mode (called Depeche Mode), a long pathway perfect for running by the water, leading to the beach, the famous Kiek in De Kok (HAHA) is still there, there are still flower stalls at the Viru Gates although no Lilly of the Valley, and Jeff is an influencer, as can be seen below. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hVMZ3OMKg8T7npukXALnVzDFyOVgIY0L8yZGPprL3us8aRSgaPGEYG-sJPQWAulhzsEzeDFTgbwnTkrmnSTPbiUapSbhmqenuSK2bPSg1nCU8pEH2O4WbRk6cUfitGsj0gpSyEWEH8E/s1136/67F5902B-7B47-470A-BD72-E1BEE634688B.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hVMZ3OMKg8T7npukXALnVzDFyOVgIY0L8yZGPprL3us8aRSgaPGEYG-sJPQWAulhzsEzeDFTgbwnTkrmnSTPbiUapSbhmqenuSK2bPSg1nCU8pEH2O4WbRk6cUfitGsj0gpSyEWEH8E/w360-h640/67F5902B-7B47-470A-BD72-E1BEE634688B.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtgYTgtKNSSBnA2AK23cLmK-S296IX4i33oyBGhLnvdQfJm7vX9DXVpMfa3Qg81ctB7rEML8n-tDZPihUqSiicokAPjgCIgT2CWevKbqPYsI2RDwhfI219YkbeytqaOc3lpy49VvOioA/s1984/473d52eb-9bb0-4861-9c64-4f6ea9432b49.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1984" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtgYTgtKNSSBnA2AK23cLmK-S296IX4i33oyBGhLnvdQfJm7vX9DXVpMfa3Qg81ctB7rEML8n-tDZPihUqSiicokAPjgCIgT2CWevKbqPYsI2RDwhfI219YkbeytqaOc3lpy49VvOioA/w640-h480/473d52eb-9bb0-4861-9c64-4f6ea9432b49.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqd0d4cfnxRyjyIpaVcvew7CEYJP3tkM4o41h2ylkwFfHxIP2WGsp6AHPLs5EffoStakWrZC7_RbeVnBrDRF80dKr4zDxGESjARqWB8SowhLX3NLF53F8_8tRi-jAKidND5Hh-mZ8ljZA/s1984/f2865ce0-ad43-4247-b665-2acbf2461a13.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqd0d4cfnxRyjyIpaVcvew7CEYJP3tkM4o41h2ylkwFfHxIP2WGsp6AHPLs5EffoStakWrZC7_RbeVnBrDRF80dKr4zDxGESjARqWB8SowhLX3NLF53F8_8tRi-jAKidND5Hh-mZ8ljZA/w480-h640/f2865ce0-ad43-4247-b665-2acbf2461a13.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3P5Qt_2uW1u8Lxn6iwsUZTNmzR5uSiAW3IjmN2IBL09siIjgUNe4T7TlM-aZRBQkLtJ7NtVOffg-0vUYAmJjzBcmLWbPGs-TIijhDlGpMmWNPTto99zsw1NjFR7nuN5-L2OSAUDeFBg8/s2048/IMG_4864.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3P5Qt_2uW1u8Lxn6iwsUZTNmzR5uSiAW3IjmN2IBL09siIjgUNe4T7TlM-aZRBQkLtJ7NtVOffg-0vUYAmJjzBcmLWbPGs-TIijhDlGpMmWNPTto99zsw1NjFR7nuN5-L2OSAUDeFBg8/w640-h480/IMG_4864.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwbcgzr9Cd49RexgDRtAsnbY1UvT8I4O2b6DdfztUPwAVeRvRD2Ea6Q2KJFfVhmZkZbYfAJF2YAi7rwe6jL_CHh20noIsH69CLF8FrQZix-MGcoXxPUzkFzLRcZWN28rfJ44nEaT2bBC4/s1984/PHOTO-2021-09-13-09-35-36.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwbcgzr9Cd49RexgDRtAsnbY1UvT8I4O2b6DdfztUPwAVeRvRD2Ea6Q2KJFfVhmZkZbYfAJF2YAi7rwe6jL_CHh20noIsH69CLF8FrQZix-MGcoXxPUzkFzLRcZWN28rfJ44nEaT2bBC4/w480-h640/PHOTO-2021-09-13-09-35-36.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOnWP0v1NGjujb37gM0uj6llMO8yK5Vpb_sdTqDUrK_WyM3BBSlucG7tFwlnDmE4-WjnGqxg3Orb7lQGslkMElEWumwyKoHdmHXawubNgKl7oW-fgkxb6JvL9OiAMPm-4AxZvJad58t0/s1984/35f34edd-060f-438b-98c5-dc838251763c.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOnWP0v1NGjujb37gM0uj6llMO8yK5Vpb_sdTqDUrK_WyM3BBSlucG7tFwlnDmE4-WjnGqxg3Orb7lQGslkMElEWumwyKoHdmHXawubNgKl7oW-fgkxb6JvL9OiAMPm-4AxZvJad58t0/w480-h640/35f34edd-060f-438b-98c5-dc838251763c.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Tallinn went from being my slightly awkward secret to a place I'd love to come back to, and while I'm sure letting go of the past was integral in that, I think part of it may be attributed to that silly person I know, who always makes everything magical, and samples fifty cakes with me on a whim.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Exd_yuja67xqwnOiixFabFE757V1zcDcnp3Mm1y-Cc61yGnl2hRF3NzGrp1o574tO1ZctjrkJu3xtRJtfOP7QI4STiRYlcUS3GX_3nTHpHIuE5kor1BECtPMSfvZKxot8vQMLfhVzXs/s1984/c2c21d7f-4392-4e6d-aba5-909a902960de.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Exd_yuja67xqwnOiixFabFE757V1zcDcnp3Mm1y-Cc61yGnl2hRF3NzGrp1o574tO1ZctjrkJu3xtRJtfOP7QI4STiRYlcUS3GX_3nTHpHIuE5kor1BECtPMSfvZKxot8vQMLfhVzXs/w480-h640/c2c21d7f-4392-4e6d-aba5-909a902960de.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-80667856113477568892021-09-13T05:21:00.003-04:002021-09-13T05:21:46.129-04:00Our Engagement Photo!<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKz1GmhOgmHEb4vqMvu_aMHpFKIoUjhyphenhyphenGCxPfkJ0lHBMaS-4b8SLQyHiZjQZHzcCpZ7-8W3V4KElVeLVt3s9mUeFvOTG_MRUXWL_-tBJkfIPuYN6tqEOpSNYQAUQo6lJQUWfCjLa3Zes/s1080/65fcab15-0185-4cd1-8607-818612560282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKz1GmhOgmHEb4vqMvu_aMHpFKIoUjhyphenhyphenGCxPfkJ0lHBMaS-4b8SLQyHiZjQZHzcCpZ7-8W3V4KElVeLVt3s9mUeFvOTG_MRUXWL_-tBJkfIPuYN6tqEOpSNYQAUQo6lJQUWfCjLa3Zes/s16000/65fcab15-0185-4cd1-8607-818612560282.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I cannot think of a better way to capture our love</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </p>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-38941839482199995582021-08-15T10:29:00.003-04:002021-08-15T10:29:27.410-04:00July RoundupIt's now the middle of August, and I'm finally getting around to recapping last month, because the pain in my shoulders has finally died down a little - a testament to how challenging this month has been..
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-ekFOsnr9JEvx7fylVd0cmeZrWDwbpXyTuYTxRcWq3tQV-saI6fddS6ttZXQanLQaD3iaJ8_NWZVc6NrHbUDQJm7Qxa-tOSB-9C9qfne4E1clzPgtDa3HBcmbSZBdiZmJUdoarmZpmc/s640/IMG_4630.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="516" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-ekFOsnr9JEvx7fylVd0cmeZrWDwbpXyTuYTxRcWq3tQV-saI6fddS6ttZXQanLQaD3iaJ8_NWZVc6NrHbUDQJm7Qxa-tOSB-9C9qfne4E1clzPgtDa3HBcmbSZBdiZmJUdoarmZpmc/s600/IMG_4630.jpg" width="600" /></a><span><a name='more'></a></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-ekFOsnr9JEvx7fylVd0cmeZrWDwbpXyTuYTxRcWq3tQV-saI6fddS6ttZXQanLQaD3iaJ8_NWZVc6NrHbUDQJm7Qxa-tOSB-9C9qfne4E1clzPgtDa3HBcmbSZBdiZmJUdoarmZpmc/s640/IMG_4630.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;">But before this gets grim, one really positive thing I'll say about this month is we had a solid 10 days (maybe more?) of hot weather!!! It went up to 28 degrees one day, and it was so nice to wear real summer clothes (what I managed to find in Jeff's parents' attic of the clothes I didn't bring back to Canada lol) Part of the novelty of hot weather was making the kind of breakfasts that cool you off, so, after being completely taken aback by the smoothie bowls at the Juice Bar in Belfast, I made my own! Berry smoothie with a bit of granola on top, followed by smooth peanut butter, almonds, chia seeds, bananas, strawberries and blueberries. I always thought eating a smoothie with a spoon was for idiots, but here I am now, totally converted.</span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-ekFOsnr9JEvx7fylVd0cmeZrWDwbpXyTuYTxRcWq3tQV-saI6fddS6ttZXQanLQaD3iaJ8_NWZVc6NrHbUDQJm7Qxa-tOSB-9C9qfne4E1clzPgtDa3HBcmbSZBdiZmJUdoarmZpmc/s640/IMG_4630.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;">This month, my Something Creative was to finish my ugly painting, but my arms and shoulders hurt so much, I just couldn't get around to holding a paintbrush. I mostly tried to stand/walk around the apartment as much as I could, so I couldn't make myself sit long enough to focus on that piece of shit I'm working on.</span></a>(Dear Self: I'm sorry for insulting your efforts, you're doing a great job, it's really not that bad, this has nothing to do with you, okay it does a little)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG42jlonHBiB9dVwE9X2IXqprNk-bRlATf_-whMeiobvmDoifeJU1Co4WC06E6pDeIN4KY7Rd9cpg5q5ANgqx4vDyE6OFkBrnmTdSg_PxuIQMNo-AANIfmAn2XFo7RFyAslOaxo1eysO0/s2048/IMG_4310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1987" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG42jlonHBiB9dVwE9X2IXqprNk-bRlATf_-whMeiobvmDoifeJU1Co4WC06E6pDeIN4KY7Rd9cpg5q5ANgqx4vDyE6OFkBrnmTdSg_PxuIQMNo-AANIfmAn2XFo7RFyAslOaxo1eysO0/w620-h640/IMG_4310.JPG" width="620" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is just Jeff with a massive watermelon</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><u><b>Something Productive: </b></u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I wanted to clean out our junk drawer, and while I didn't manage to clean the whole thing out, I organized the horrible stack of documents that typically sat in a pile, catching on to the sliding drawer every time we tried to open or close it. The rest of the drawer will have to be an August/September/October/November/Never thing (ha-ha). I don't know how to sound more motivated, but when your body is in a state of pain night and day, you just struggle to care about decluttering.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><u><b>Fitness: </b></u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This was another tough one, because on top of injuring my shoulders I also injured my hip/glutes, so I was told not to run, then I was told to run, then I was told to swim, then I was told to stretch, then I was told to strengthen, so I guess overall, my goal was to just keep moving, and I really did. One of the better aspects of this has been listening to a great new audiobook "Not A Life Coach" by James Smith. I really love his idea that our true wealth is measured by how much time we have to ourselves, and how we are able to spend it. I think I've always felt very protective of my personal time, and of how much time off/time to myself I could get, and this just validated that for me, and made me feel not so guilty about it. If we don't have our life to ourselves, what else possibly matters? Why value money above that? Anyway, moving on..</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><u><b>Something New:</b></u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I have wanted to swim in the ocean since coming to Dublin six years ago...and it has always been SO cold, I've just never been brave enough to go for it. Well, on a hot day in July, we went to Howth...and ran into the ice cold water! I have to say I've never experienced anything quite as freezing in my life, and Jeff didn't feel great afterwards either, but it was so amazing to do it. I've always felt like the water in Ireland was a limitation for me, like I could always go near it, but never touch it. When I swam out, it felt like I was finally a part of the entire landscape. The depth of coldness made my limbs go numb and I felt my ribcage tighten, but the moment we were out and under the sun again, we wanted to go back. I thought I'd just run in the one time, but we ended up running in twice. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2DnM0cIWfz6OEN6Vj0d0DWI6D4SPqoeQIWSADD7sh6U5jA7aGb6HK0j0GqY0HEjuIn9m9F6jLL79OBgDfezj8y0FZZbboC88Hmfe9qS0ffLJNJGJoFdcDb6ZIPGaNxZG2FwMr7_CuXjI/s1254/1313EF4D-3B70-43AA-BCB3-F67C4E967715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1254" data-original-width="1254" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2DnM0cIWfz6OEN6Vj0d0DWI6D4SPqoeQIWSADD7sh6U5jA7aGb6HK0j0GqY0HEjuIn9m9F6jLL79OBgDfezj8y0FZZbboC88Hmfe9qS0ffLJNJGJoFdcDb6ZIPGaNxZG2FwMr7_CuXjI/w640-h640/1313EF4D-3B70-43AA-BCB3-F67C4E967715.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My other Something New was to try meditating this month, so I downloaded the Headspace app and have done a few de-stressing meditations. I really like it so far, but I have a very long way to go before the buzzing thoughts calm down.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><u><b>Learning Something:</b></u> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I've been thinking about what it was that I had set as my goal for the month, but I don't quite have anything to rival what I ended up learning about myself, following a session with a Moldovan pain management doctor. I've been thinking about whether or not to include this in my blog because of the deeply painful scar it left on me, and ultimately I think that this year has been about documenting the most salient experiences of each month, so it would be a waste not to include this. However, to minimize the potential to re-traumatize myself while re-reading this, I'm just going to lightly touch on the experience, focusing on the positive aspects. Let's see, how to make this blend into the rest of this writing so that I'm not scared to read this section later, and also as I write this now my guts are so tight from having to think about it. Okay, so I went to see this guy, and his technique was to apply an amount of force I'd never experienced before, whether with his elbow or fist, slamming my nerve blockages to 'de-knot' them. I lay down on my stomach, and he smashed the most painful parts of my injury repeatedly, and with each blow, I felt my spinal cord and my skull shake, I felt the pain on such a level that my teeth smashed against each other and everything would go black for a split second. He then bent my arms back with a similar force, and then, eventually he twisted my neck with a similar, shocking, painful force. Of course, on a logical level, he was helping me. He was doing what he knew was best to decrease the tension, to break apart the blockage, to release the tension. But for me, having been in this pain for two years, having held on to the stress and anxiety of something hurting every day and every night, it broke open a flood of emotional pain. That, coupled with the physical pain of it, made me cry, and cry, and cry. It wasn't quiet crying either, it was nearly screaming and pleading with him to stop. He was kind in that he would tell me to breathe and relax, and when he would see that I was truly unable to breathe anymore, he would give me a minute break. But he was unkind in his assumption that I was crying because I'm hormonal. That, for me, was incredibly triggering and painful. He grabbed my stomach a few times, asking me how I let myself get to that point, suggested that I eat one meal a day, that I swim, and that I deal with the stress that his therapy was evoking. He then made me lie on my back, and pressed into my neck until I passed out. In that moment, I saw a school bus, and everyone on the school bus was screaming at me. This made my body go into a panic attack, and when I gasped from the fright of the moment, I felt my fist softly hit my chest over and over again. He said that was normal, and that it was just another way to show how stressed out I was. I'm grateful to him for being honest with me, for his best attempt at making me feel better, and for his overall knowledge. I don't regret going, for those aspects. However, I left with a deeper shame than I have felt in many, many years. I felt ashamed of being in pain, of reacting to the pain with tears, of having 'let myself go' as he suggested, of my insulin resistance being in a bad state as he pointed out. I felt really low, and for a few days after, I didn't know what to do with myself. It's been a few weeks since then, and I haven't recovered emotionally yet, but I think I'm starting to come out of it. The experience forced me to look into my relationship with my parents, my childhood, my beliefs about myself, my emotional flexibility, and so many other difficult things. Even as I write this, I'm not sure how to categorize what happened to me, but I have a feeling that wasn't supposed to happen. Maybe in a few months when I look back on this, I can edit it, but for now, I think that's the best I can do.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">That said, while the session itself didn't make me feel better, Jeff and I started intermittent fasting, got a pull up bar per his suggestion, and as I said before, I started meditating. I hope to have a little more to say about these things in the coming months :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_vy4KPtutWNzenQ67L23sH-6cxR-jdu4ivjq6uwHpIW4_f_9z4PuxMpHLRu9vPv4Nrdih32AaSNCDDhD9k0wkLZcyvKnjEWgUCOGoS6a48l4hB-1WYUMUrwySugQ_iIGTxTG3C6ic2E/s2048/IMG_4314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_vy4KPtutWNzenQ67L23sH-6cxR-jdu4ivjq6uwHpIW4_f_9z4PuxMpHLRu9vPv4Nrdih32AaSNCDDhD9k0wkLZcyvKnjEWgUCOGoS6a48l4hB-1WYUMUrwySugQ_iIGTxTG3C6ic2E/w480-h640/IMG_4314.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy picture! One morning, Jeff surprised me with my favourite coffee and pastries!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">OKAY NOW LET ME INTERJECT WITH SOMETHING SO MUCH HAPPIER!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">CANADA DAY!!!!!!!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This year, we had sunshine and blue skies, and we were at Jeff's parents' house and I brought a can of Canada Dry ginger ale and a couple of hazelnut Coffee Mate coffee creamers to celebrate!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTkhH-Zs3c0FdRWtvzkG6LyOvDroV8Ax7C_2mK57hS5hXmaqRw-9EIR6apQssWIjQ7gEpzbCCmmN3ezgWc2rJdw4U4XpOJB1PcaHtHV-FwvrypUEDS78rHfA6jMnlmQqcYOahT28Gy3iw/s1984/e65d12c0-a9bb-4e2d-8c26-0fda81b3d57c.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTkhH-Zs3c0FdRWtvzkG6LyOvDroV8Ax7C_2mK57hS5hXmaqRw-9EIR6apQssWIjQ7gEpzbCCmmN3ezgWc2rJdw4U4XpOJB1PcaHtHV-FwvrypUEDS78rHfA6jMnlmQqcYOahT28Gy3iw/w480-h640/e65d12c0-a9bb-4e2d-8c26-0fda81b3d57c.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZ-tYVPO1uC7pRUeGRJqGUXiXrq68LBAGgWMFhppLNgbEOyzhn1zM7HFTKIKyI7jNGoiSLQNHgagGZRKe6wIr72ueluEs8uXYcs0PJMqLiS6gUJtRNVXaOW6ab3EiLD0VbNi3jGPNx6k/s2048/IMG_4181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1748" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZ-tYVPO1uC7pRUeGRJqGUXiXrq68LBAGgWMFhppLNgbEOyzhn1zM7HFTKIKyI7jNGoiSLQNHgagGZRKe6wIr72ueluEs8uXYcs0PJMqLiS6gUJtRNVXaOW6ab3EiLD0VbNi3jGPNx6k/w546-h640/IMG_4181.JPG" width="546" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1JJYZHJICIue4H5jIJ8Kinq6u4ozcHN70095Zg6_fwPfgH3DWIP8p2jCAeeNw71TaFtow8ZmpuosPch73ZOvBhpp8BLsxCBVXKKQQARrMDwTJ8NzrWSUAHYPuhaYS4qnbz3cEJ12aH0/s2048/IMG_4234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1JJYZHJICIue4H5jIJ8Kinq6u4ozcHN70095Zg6_fwPfgH3DWIP8p2jCAeeNw71TaFtow8ZmpuosPch73ZOvBhpp8BLsxCBVXKKQQARrMDwTJ8NzrWSUAHYPuhaYS4qnbz3cEJ12aH0/w480-h640/IMG_4234.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Jeff's family were so unbelievably sweet: when they found out it was Canada Day, Doreen gave me a summer dress, and Louise gave me a sweatshirt as gifts to mark the occasion, and I don't think I've ever gotten a Canada Day present before and it was the cutest thing to happen to me on any Canada Day ever!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And then Martin poured us glasses of prosecco to celebrate, and briefly tolerated some Barenaked Ladies before freaking out and putting something else on, and that was it! It was a fabulous day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjev9_dG1wJeV6A9gqVYwc-jCJerQeEflXvxpLsiqX3A-xUIKEnNSPFHdxbzynawCSaIsJ1aPQNZt5n26tY68RAAFb3uEstsHmGhec61F1HzWrhGk-47zEMxJzSHLDPhWt6ssMArflvUQw/s2048/IMG_4237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjev9_dG1wJeV6A9gqVYwc-jCJerQeEflXvxpLsiqX3A-xUIKEnNSPFHdxbzynawCSaIsJ1aPQNZt5n26tY68RAAFb3uEstsHmGhec61F1HzWrhGk-47zEMxJzSHLDPhWt6ssMArflvUQw/w480-h640/IMG_4237.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My <u><b>Something Caring</b></u> for the month was something I wanted to do for someone who always has very thoughtful intentions towards me, and I don't want to go into detail, but I'm very happy with how it turned out. My other Something Caring actually happened randomly, on its own. I was walking through town one day, and it was very hot, and I decided I wanted to get a pizza on a patio somewhere. I found a nice looking restaurant just by Stephen's Green and ordered a margherita pizza and a pint of a Spanish beer, and it was such a lovely time. I can't remember the last time I went out to eat by myself, but it felt really indulgent and really, really naughty lol. Sometimes a Something Caring can be towards yourself!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifY0Tu04YY_ikkY4KVBKN7kk3l4WX9cVVSSsvRlRdhjNvAmh36wWNqf7LTriYQGx6O5ygnJlal-yjRP-mga32F3Bp5AFWCh7i00Os0R5cl07UU0LDogi7bPkhKBWen27fXxbOpoO0c594/s849/IMG_4629.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifY0Tu04YY_ikkY4KVBKN7kk3l4WX9cVVSSsvRlRdhjNvAmh36wWNqf7LTriYQGx6O5ygnJlal-yjRP-mga32F3Bp5AFWCh7i00Os0R5cl07UU0LDogi7bPkhKBWen27fXxbOpoO0c594/w482-h640/IMG_4629.PNG" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Speaking of nice times, Jeff and I finally went out for our official "let's celebrate our engagement" dinner at a restaurant called Volpe Nera in Blackrock. The restaurant was Michelin-rated, and the food was good, but the thing I will remember most is just the way Blackrock looked. The flowers growing in the gardens of every house were different shades of pastels, the streets were laid out in the most perfect, cozy way, the sunset over the water was breathtaking, and the bridge to cross to our side of the tracks was lined with glass partitions. It was such a beautiful neighbourhood, I can't believe we hadn't gone there before! Here we are: Me, just before I spilled sauce on my dress, and Jeff, goobering all over his wine glass until you literally could no longer see through it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2GiccYaBDla74XCYmEd6MrClCpb0qqE2n1QZZzK1gVNAMKkTKQEWhE3o_4hYEIPCjUPQWF1MBitxDsuc-RFrNNA3dT_VmEYiQoRGqUPVTIm0CjBRpYUuSnC926JrseFVgV9hUEs2Dcxw/s1984/6b1d572e-4e27-4416-81a4-fed66d496385.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1984" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2GiccYaBDla74XCYmEd6MrClCpb0qqE2n1QZZzK1gVNAMKkTKQEWhE3o_4hYEIPCjUPQWF1MBitxDsuc-RFrNNA3dT_VmEYiQoRGqUPVTIm0CjBRpYUuSnC926JrseFVgV9hUEs2Dcxw/w480-h640/6b1d572e-4e27-4416-81a4-fed66d496385.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9DarM667uqFDoI7Hm1JbUUuwvY6K2op3iVBDx75hC0FWj2HLHpnleF1fTl4L556DrQD84W_2w8AF4nL2ih-WX8CvePLCIH1ZRlKU21dLZek7oOlYB4QdXdHTnG2f_yHOEttye5FbLSN8/s1716/C6C76A61-95FB-487F-87D3-73D4847CF49F.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1716" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9DarM667uqFDoI7Hm1JbUUuwvY6K2op3iVBDx75hC0FWj2HLHpnleF1fTl4L556DrQD84W_2w8AF4nL2ih-WX8CvePLCIH1ZRlKU21dLZek7oOlYB4QdXdHTnG2f_yHOEttye5FbLSN8/w554-h640/C6C76A61-95FB-487F-87D3-73D4847CF49F.JPG" width="554" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Despite the pain, I feel so lucky to have had that little bit of summer heat..I've never felt 'hot' in Dublin, and this has been the most incredible month! So much so that we even bought ICE CREAM (MORE THAN ONCE), and....I found nitro pina coladas! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTwbOV8jfoYRAdI6mMR6Sp22wnoQLcBX8j5sxErmqJ5kC4tEVwzAKHQP_6RlqaFpkHaxVBf8w5BMARPMMxR2hA8no2TSeF-tGBfwASFShbIwfVOgvN3RlzUVau-VX8ofjgho0qLspoW8g/s2048/64865742317__E3E8DDAC-41FF-4815-AA7B-C33701812BAB.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTwbOV8jfoYRAdI6mMR6Sp22wnoQLcBX8j5sxErmqJ5kC4tEVwzAKHQP_6RlqaFpkHaxVBf8w5BMARPMMxR2hA8no2TSeF-tGBfwASFShbIwfVOgvN3RlzUVau-VX8ofjgho0qLspoW8g/w480-h640/64865742317__E3E8DDAC-41FF-4815-AA7B-C33701812BAB.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So that just about sums it up, and oh, my <u><b>July Challenge </b></u>has been to try to get through the pain so yep, challenge completed. On to August!</div>
LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-90045435230322503072021-07-09T08:39:00.001-04:002021-08-15T08:56:31.012-04:00June Roundup<p>This is the warmest, sunniest summer I have ever experienced in Dublin, and having a large green space behind our apartment made it easy to take my books outside, to sit in the sun with a coconut LaCroix. I regret writing that last detail - probably for obvious reasons - </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoEdg_tSC_rGBgcReQ1DzBQjbkAHfOJ6YlobKyDNT22dHsVnT1JRH0inUp3SWeS0G7EyAdLFfeSFVDBPonn_N4wa-8d68pEauDP8qXO5Exc-1Zwq1gxyPH1R05L3VBKDTGPeZYQJ5R6-k/s1600/1fa76e17-6f12-49cd-ad79-f86d1cdce2c0.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoEdg_tSC_rGBgcReQ1DzBQjbkAHfOJ6YlobKyDNT22dHsVnT1JRH0inUp3SWeS0G7EyAdLFfeSFVDBPonn_N4wa-8d68pEauDP8qXO5Exc-1Zwq1gxyPH1R05L3VBKDTGPeZYQJ5R6-k/w480-h640/1fa76e17-6f12-49cd-ad79-f86d1cdce2c0.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fig leaf ganache topped eclair from Sceal Bakery. Doesn't hold a candle to Tesco..</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><br /></p><p>But after reading Buy Yourself the Fucking Lillies (by Tara Schuster) I had the guts to pull the trigger on a €26 (!!!!!!! that is 38 Canadian Dollars) case of 12 cans, convincing myself that it's a healthier option to diet sodas and a small joy I deserve to have. So, coconut LaCroix will likely make an appearance in every blog post for the next few months, because I'm making the most of it (and this summer) BaBy. Anyway, it's been a nice summer so far.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTUiy5L48AgeJrCtXoZfTi4uJT5mdkyX5apHuqH3ADVQaGJKohXCOmE2htsNvs02V-DB2_N4HFC6l6KHaP87QuYjrtJaRjixCOhWyaHpQFQnm8aufsISWJKSH6Lbp2cetC0P93kH69ni0/s1600/83a88e37-269d-47e8-87f0-1644d0f7d3c0.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTUiy5L48AgeJrCtXoZfTi4uJT5mdkyX5apHuqH3ADVQaGJKohXCOmE2htsNvs02V-DB2_N4HFC6l6KHaP87QuYjrtJaRjixCOhWyaHpQFQnm8aufsISWJKSH6Lbp2cetC0P93kH69ni0/w480-h640/83a88e37-269d-47e8-87f0-1644d0f7d3c0.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clontarf</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>In terms of goals and achievements, this month was a flop. I just didn't get around to working on as many things because I spent a lot of days outside or drowning my anxiety watching Netflix shows. You win some, you lose some. However, for my...</p><p><i><u>Something Creative: </u></i></p><p>I finished putting together the small bits of fireplace mantle decor I wanted:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJYHe4vbI0syqDwTZh2q5knAkXmcqihrcB_s65n26sqhXS1paud0QLOwLz7b99x48jb2AYKMS75bocrlxYZQCN0B_rtzjgBNorvwBOIeKG8mCi5_JkMplJMfQFtkrgcZBwqUJw2gcMRw4/s1992/IMG_4272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1992" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJYHe4vbI0syqDwTZh2q5knAkXmcqihrcB_s65n26sqhXS1paud0QLOwLz7b99x48jb2AYKMS75bocrlxYZQCN0B_rtzjgBNorvwBOIeKG8mCi5_JkMplJMfQFtkrgcZBwqUJw2gcMRw4/w640-h382/IMG_4272.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I really love the colours of the poster. I think they will blend in with fall and winter themes, so I won't have to change it, which is great because this is the most annoyingly complicated canvas I have ever had the pleasure of swearing at, from the entire Ikea collection.</p><p>My other goal for June was to finish my Tim Horton's painting (wait for it lol) but so far, it is SO ugly, I've had to take some time to grieve it, so I'll have it done by the end of July. I'll take a photo before I bury it at sea. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVdjeGAs37vFVB06ZxQImztzPdYfV8-pL1g1mquAqoheh68EVcCV9BKljfjtnSMFgnGCLsIIm2FVD5bYg4w24TvydRBzyZd4QmZH-MlRUDQSZ8yobhLVVYn6F1KzRR129GzN3HzeATn0/s1512/2586F40E-0835-48E7-B09F-C5B14DF94F1B.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVdjeGAs37vFVB06ZxQImztzPdYfV8-pL1g1mquAqoheh68EVcCV9BKljfjtnSMFgnGCLsIIm2FVD5bYg4w24TvydRBzyZd4QmZH-MlRUDQSZ8yobhLVVYn6F1KzRR129GzN3HzeATn0/w640-h640/2586F40E-0835-48E7-B09F-C5B14DF94F1B.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><i><u>Something New: </u></i></p><p>We went to Belfast! It's not really a new location, but being able to travel in a pandemic is something new for us, anyway. It was so nice to go on a trip, no matter how short a train ride. I pretended to have a full itinerary for us, but really, it was about going to Tim Horton's. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVeiuPBMtJ7noVYq99ldTToqPhUzm6PT08P_fVeSpShGoFF2iLpkqg94E3wDc-YMb3vCYPESEgEEWohim3rioPq4N0hVfJra8Kq4wRcCpB4oW7bfTirB2w6SmdR22ptnKT4l4I8SOU6M/s2016/IMG_3954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVeiuPBMtJ7noVYq99ldTToqPhUzm6PT08P_fVeSpShGoFF2iLpkqg94E3wDc-YMb3vCYPESEgEEWohim3rioPq4N0hVfJra8Kq4wRcCpB4oW7bfTirB2w6SmdR22ptnKT4l4I8SOU6M/w480-h640/IMG_3954.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zoom in on all the empty trays. This was the fullest it was all weekend :-(</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>What's really funny about the Tim Horton's here (well, in the UK), is how elegant everyone is about the whole thing. If you know Tim's (or Timmy's) in Canada, you likely associate it with the sunburnt, faded cups you see rolling around construction sites, the extra large triple triples in the hands of the questionable folks on Bank Street in Ottawa, the equally proportionate yet now inviting cups sitting snuggly by the keyboard of your dentist's receptionist named Monique or Julie, the irreverence with which they're usually ordered, poured, stirred, smacked on the counter and slid towards your unenthusiastic hand. We're so used to it. We're so unimpressed. Yeah, it's good. Yeah, it's dishwater. Yeah, whatever, I'll have a double double. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-kPcx_lbvgnWYwWM9tDV-q-97WK719rOJSmiZD0azIpMhbiYqdBDWFY5pHgwwKIjB0rc6C3F2Jz5ggn-N-hV2hQr2Uqy185WZIHDfGBcWS5InCSexBLS1FQE9YohqGJewd_i3xpsPHQE/s688/81F72DAB-BCE7-4686-A531-866FE387EED1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="688" data-original-width="628" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-kPcx_lbvgnWYwWM9tDV-q-97WK719rOJSmiZD0azIpMhbiYqdBDWFY5pHgwwKIjB0rc6C3F2Jz5ggn-N-hV2hQr2Uqy185WZIHDfGBcWS5InCSexBLS1FQE9YohqGJewd_i3xpsPHQE/w584-h640/81F72DAB-BCE7-4686-A531-866FE387EED1.JPG" width="584" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>In Belfast, items are carefully selected from the menu. "Hot drinks" are pondered over. Lattes are chosen. Timbits are delicately placed on a little round patio table and shared between several impeccably dressed women. No half-smoked DuMaurier wedged between fingers. No crossword puzzle newspaper page with torn up sugar packets sprinkled on top. Here, going to <i>Tim Horton's</i> is a <i>thing</i>. </p><p>And boy, was it for me. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPb6rqC4U_PG0SoG0P07l_Sgt5g65-_JQaIs0VFCZ6P28QCNB0V1YvwjUh2qjWdlDWc4WIai-v23PK8gh9pzIszkpNG6F-EEruNX4N6VZFA8yNSw7ni16szUyqqx643OHZ8IL51uLObeg/s2016/IMG_3997.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPb6rqC4U_PG0SoG0P07l_Sgt5g65-_JQaIs0VFCZ6P28QCNB0V1YvwjUh2qjWdlDWc4WIai-v23PK8gh9pzIszkpNG6F-EEruNX4N6VZFA8yNSw7ni16szUyqqx643OHZ8IL51uLObeg/w480-h640/IMG_3997.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I'll just say this: I really wanted a sour cream glazed. And the one location we could easily visit didn't have them. In fact, it didn't have much of anything.. and let me tell you another horror: this didn't change all weekend.</p><p>So, one morning, I decided to walk to the only other location in the city. It was a long enough walk and with each street I crossed, I thought about the Tim's I took for granted back home. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_1PUDbVolBnUIGENM1YhG0lHDhVhoZX4W_sX3qpM-LAjZMhfJkf6QaUq5Fusslanp48mOJpHXP03jU4yjJM_OkN-CLpz6qzEWskfmWL7xGVKeF8kUj5Db8qII1iG9RVyIsJC1zrg5bE/s2016/IMG_3998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_1PUDbVolBnUIGENM1YhG0lHDhVhoZX4W_sX3qpM-LAjZMhfJkf6QaUq5Fusslanp48mOJpHXP03jU4yjJM_OkN-CLpz6qzEWskfmWL7xGVKeF8kUj5Db8qII1iG9RVyIsJC1zrg5bE/w480-h640/IMG_3998.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The morning walk :)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJ53hhLA72_M8UyYjwMQ5zJQQfwKJvK8XOImhiWZhVA4N400taWmW6SJgFTrTXErSefQfHVfdZe9_0HwSNLrf3xSlbrMr_tg90zQhhUb6eZkc9l659K_bunOavifHgeisnwOGNvGQzbk/s2016/IMG_4010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJ53hhLA72_M8UyYjwMQ5zJQQfwKJvK8XOImhiWZhVA4N400taWmW6SJgFTrTXErSefQfHVfdZe9_0HwSNLrf3xSlbrMr_tg90zQhhUb6eZkc9l659K_bunOavifHgeisnwOGNvGQzbk/w480-h640/IMG_4010.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It looks almost like the ones in Canada!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>To my disappointment, they didn't have that donut either. To prove to myself that I refuse defeat, I bought a box of 6 and we ate them all. That day. All of them. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yng1PEve3UcGcP9pE0eZjc543CvfQunPd0crJVy2aR8yOqMYrKhSHNrIKbQiQefzp_nOuwsUB5-b88qMB3jxeYPH5IydnDKUHQ7g-vQeT29I8UMu9px5e_qN6AF7IACFAgsaW1Y05ZY/s2016/IMG_4018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yng1PEve3UcGcP9pE0eZjc543CvfQunPd0crJVy2aR8yOqMYrKhSHNrIKbQiQefzp_nOuwsUB5-b88qMB3jxeYPH5IydnDKUHQ7g-vQeT29I8UMu9px5e_qN6AF7IACFAgsaW1Y05ZY/w480-h640/IMG_4018.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Anyway, it's a funny experience, but don't expect to feel the ambiance of the Tim's back home. Sometimes, to feel at home, you really need people to not give a shit. </p><p>The rest of the trip was very typically us. I planned for it to be romantic, dreaming of lazy mornings with mimosas and long nights of dancing like we were on our first date. Instead, Jeff spilled the prosecco all over his clothes, we got into a fight about taking a nap, I tried too hard to identify a clam being eaten by a seagull, and Jeff had a hayfever attack immediately after we sat down at a rooftop bar we had waited two hours to get into. Bonus: I got hit with a giant bag of ice cubes. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0V5GNo6TGQ0u9WWhyphenhyphennW8Fjt0JX2aJlZUXyJLij6SqHSH8yL2K_cQUumb-FnsmtUBK5fnmS-dLuDj7TACTxg2urdQ2FZ5fGh69dbXkUgjMB7DDzv_trK9G53xxO-YlxMx2T7i58RFMspg/s1136/BDC48C1A-575E-4AA6-8269-C84695352787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0V5GNo6TGQ0u9WWhyphenhyphennW8Fjt0JX2aJlZUXyJLij6SqHSH8yL2K_cQUumb-FnsmtUBK5fnmS-dLuDj7TACTxg2urdQ2FZ5fGh69dbXkUgjMB7DDzv_trK9G53xxO-YlxMx2T7i58RFMspg/w360-h640/BDC48C1A-575E-4AA6-8269-C84695352787.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Seeing the Titanic museum has seemingly been a life-long dream of Jeff's, so we visited its space craft (???), and also went to a Nepalese restaurant where the waiters and other patrons heartily weighed in on our dining choices. The food was incredible, and Jeff took me there as a surprise, so that part was quite romantic, although soon after, we had a fight about how Jeff thinks he goes out a lot but he doesn't go out that much in Dublin, but he says Dublin is really cool for going out, but he shouldn't act like an expert, to be honest. (consider deleting this part)</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHOHWvRAIQeyU1f4SeXAxXg9I1OALXyQN6HUTz1p3IcYYaRtGurs7ibigp8BfRcaofMV9r_CB-p7aG7WojXzy9SLIKnPD28M5cJY6C54zpZGTrWk66M2jDg0Zgw6MC4if7WwThlUYWgZY/s1600/b509200d-db9e-447f-b119-5378b0615cb5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHOHWvRAIQeyU1f4SeXAxXg9I1OALXyQN6HUTz1p3IcYYaRtGurs7ibigp8BfRcaofMV9r_CB-p7aG7WojXzy9SLIKnPD28M5cJY6C54zpZGTrWk66M2jDg0Zgw6MC4if7WwThlUYWgZY/w480-h640/b509200d-db9e-447f-b119-5378b0615cb5.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Nepalese restaurant</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZjnxSzgivdhLQ5UaY283Pzqw-490s89lL84B91ki3OzCg1q9u1ffM4v3YqKYFIO3w3EJnUQdjYNS3ZEzzAPA2FO6inUyEmKXjOZrRL3h3M7q4P_3AYlqcSZN76IeonuLNrHArWqXz_s/s2016/IMG_4079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZjnxSzgivdhLQ5UaY283Pzqw-490s89lL84B91ki3OzCg1q9u1ffM4v3YqKYFIO3w3EJnUQdjYNS3ZEzzAPA2FO6inUyEmKXjOZrRL3h3M7q4P_3AYlqcSZN76IeonuLNrHArWqXz_s/w480-h640/IMG_4079.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ...Titanic...museum.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQ56CFk1nPpbd_5HyZiwNdx0QXRv_UpRN92W1CXOMEA_1IcxYsDQB6eGFhmIdm3Ohyphenhyphenu5EtEr175Mh5z5pikMbjiKsGrmQ04RqBFr2IuuLED17NlUmxz8dAiAr2zU8a1sGyx8to1reSDw/s2016/IMG_3952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQ56CFk1nPpbd_5HyZiwNdx0QXRv_UpRN92W1CXOMEA_1IcxYsDQB6eGFhmIdm3Ohyphenhyphenu5EtEr175Mh5z5pikMbjiKsGrmQ04RqBFr2IuuLED17NlUmxz8dAiAr2zU8a1sGyx8to1reSDw/w480-h640/IMG_3952.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The St.George's Market, with really nice crafts and food vendors</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkPImHV8f2ydyDUyY4nmZB4nrPBPF96NtReItpqnqsyOahp5rj_PA8ioZnxFQNlk7Ty2U-BezajhTPOXX71CWTYpSOFzx8RRD0xZu53Ei961jz9-aLa1fq00oVLP2JKfSa4X1Gaxb1uyw/s2016/IMG_3985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkPImHV8f2ydyDUyY4nmZB4nrPBPF96NtReItpqnqsyOahp5rj_PA8ioZnxFQNlk7Ty2U-BezajhTPOXX71CWTYpSOFzx8RRD0xZu53Ei961jz9-aLa1fq00oVLP2JKfSa4X1Gaxb1uyw/w480-h640/IMG_3985.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMthSFy4LQLTdZ8s4MBefCnCYg6tk9T3mWAPfF0I-CC9IDOWWvC9Y__cauGWFB6iTzF772OnTBXoz3X7tG2NaPdlMQBlba6DgCXfFBi3TKh27S1QvsA9YlaloJduM_tteppBlBI3E1PeE/s2016/IMG_3987.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMthSFy4LQLTdZ8s4MBefCnCYg6tk9T3mWAPfF0I-CC9IDOWWvC9Y__cauGWFB6iTzF772OnTBXoz3X7tG2NaPdlMQBlba6DgCXfFBi3TKh27S1QvsA9YlaloJduM_tteppBlBI3E1PeE/w480-h640/IMG_3987.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't remember the name of this restaurant but look at the greenery :)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx0hoKnS3fRRWTbQ_chWiy1v9AWghISogHI11L681So3WFrtl5nR-pQwzYjCo7nhFtH1bcm0xn_8MAk_pJKcRD40em8oKvNILXMsQ2HUn-dOa5j0hQjfAhWtJMW9rAbFast3wf9FcgmZA/s2016/IMG_4050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx0hoKnS3fRRWTbQ_chWiy1v9AWghISogHI11L681So3WFrtl5nR-pQwzYjCo7nhFtH1bcm0xn_8MAk_pJKcRD40em8oKvNILXMsQ2HUn-dOa5j0hQjfAhWtJMW9rAbFast3wf9FcgmZA/w480-h640/IMG_4050.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>We went to a really cool Cuban restaurant (Revolución de Cuba) with high ceilings and plants and delicious piña coladas. It played mostly Cuban music, but would interject every now and then with Brown Eyed Girl or Takin' Care of Business so as to not confuse/upset its ivory patrons. I remember once, in Havana, we went to a mojito bar, and this restaurant really reminded me of its ambiance, so I would highly recommend it if you're ever in Belfast, as it's well worth a visit for the architecture alone. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98qaoeIbIHFGjBUQ4tG9YtVdzCRrZFpj08QhNeFC4i0kXFAkW_mnPno0BOL4TEK14c1wbSjqIqF3J25D6FfKcYIwrUvInqHFyFQovTpf8Bibv2hU4e4F1THBjQ2uW3Nl5fT9iwx5a3nQ/s1600/3579b4bb-5787-4068-b172-ea0074f773cd.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98qaoeIbIHFGjBUQ4tG9YtVdzCRrZFpj08QhNeFC4i0kXFAkW_mnPno0BOL4TEK14c1wbSjqIqF3J25D6FfKcYIwrUvInqHFyFQovTpf8Bibv2hU4e4F1THBjQ2uW3Nl5fT9iwx5a3nQ/w480-h640/3579b4bb-5787-4068-b172-ea0074f773cd.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGL2BpoCi2Pj8RpTu8alITF6a6K_DzO5xmLffvm-Fukz-HCyqAHwYZ7yMKPydOsMhyphenhyphenJu8lDRGOoyqSrfwzyHbxtBWbrRZIPlgYbPcJ3o1ofemF4oSUKvh9jUQZ0FqbVbJobyk1-0tKxoE/s2016/IMG_3970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGL2BpoCi2Pj8RpTu8alITF6a6K_DzO5xmLffvm-Fukz-HCyqAHwYZ7yMKPydOsMhyphenhyphenJu8lDRGOoyqSrfwzyHbxtBWbrRZIPlgYbPcJ3o1ofemF4oSUKvh9jUQZ0FqbVbJobyk1-0tKxoE/w480-h640/IMG_3970.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The zombies were SO strong</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHCcf4KA-y4DdZN3iAnEXOVJLh_DRUNxGCvEjMbXkltDmK1e3HxnUfLTPmyQs23DY6A0WF1wxvhu8aRBb3f9avknDW_HTUdiUoPqf5cV1Cgn4StByqxMsmzHSsFxvI9HY2XvFRqZ7CK4/s2016/IMG_3981.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHCcf4KA-y4DdZN3iAnEXOVJLh_DRUNxGCvEjMbXkltDmK1e3HxnUfLTPmyQs23DY6A0WF1wxvhu8aRBb3f9avknDW_HTUdiUoPqf5cV1Cgn4StByqxMsmzHSsFxvI9HY2XvFRqZ7CK4/w480-h640/IMG_3981.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">very cool</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>We also had some wine and snacks at this really quirky deli style cafe called Sawers. You can order anything from sliced cheeses to olives to salamis to baklava to meatballs to pies, along with "red wine" (never specified), and the ambiance is artfully cluttered with boutique style items and the outdoor patio is so inviting and cozy..</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9c2O7iald-pR9kQH8k7HuV8wVjQJcu3pRR_9lCuotWCBW_gNpl_DWFUv2pgnN25pJ_kVcmQfhwLyZMIyYrYnNFRN3vN98rsYkCyjSCZeZX8HtsDtVb7RK3rDEGHVsdNt1J7joq0zuLMY/s2016/IMG_3982.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9c2O7iald-pR9kQH8k7HuV8wVjQJcu3pRR_9lCuotWCBW_gNpl_DWFUv2pgnN25pJ_kVcmQfhwLyZMIyYrYnNFRN3vN98rsYkCyjSCZeZX8HtsDtVb7RK3rDEGHVsdNt1J7joq0zuLMY/w480-h640/IMG_3982.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqE7fiYhUBjQqQLlzpKJukkI49uIC2xlC1VSR7AThYYHaGD02UFyV7kip1PGXmQp-W5lPM6N1dU9GKxrpwrnddbH6kdSjV9juhe1SNJNDKom1K2_c-CBwOvPjVMz0N2l8mRX0H0cdpIpA/s2016/IMG_4043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqE7fiYhUBjQqQLlzpKJukkI49uIC2xlC1VSR7AThYYHaGD02UFyV7kip1PGXmQp-W5lPM6N1dU9GKxrpwrnddbH6kdSjV9juhe1SNJNDKom1K2_c-CBwOvPjVMz0N2l8mRX0H0cdpIpA/w480-h640/IMG_4043.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbdQXjzpQlwA-nnNRJYAm5_pDcBJI6FLdevhZ-5RW5SFcLKqTq7J7Oi20kl8-ayWxVXKIbeTWQm9JzpLQKcr23-mNTx8LyN2UPrQ-lUce_YFUGL-aGQkdNUHAP8KiRXs6A-Tt0wlCAh80/s2016/IMG_4065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbdQXjzpQlwA-nnNRJYAm5_pDcBJI6FLdevhZ-5RW5SFcLKqTq7J7Oi20kl8-ayWxVXKIbeTWQm9JzpLQKcr23-mNTx8LyN2UPrQ-lUce_YFUGL-aGQkdNUHAP8KiRXs6A-Tt0wlCAh80/w480-h640/IMG_4065.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We also went out both nights but I have to say it was uncomfortable being around so many people indoors..</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></p><p>The train ride back was very much 'us' as well. We ordered sushi to be delivered to us by the time we got into Dublin, remarking how pleasant it is that the train will stop at the station with a direct connection to our train home. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZwhePCYJTs1aqQrBQeNRymVR3uGxOQ9YJag8UUBoMrzkrGIBy6cXkiue4UNIAy9cbPysyzeNg2fJFJZwPZFEdobjSbN0z0OeR9l2kL4YC2m5fHJGp6p-wdbj52Iog14TJXCENS8iJpk0/s1600/b1e95cca-f11f-43b2-b3b5-075fc3729db2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZwhePCYJTs1aqQrBQeNRymVR3uGxOQ9YJag8UUBoMrzkrGIBy6cXkiue4UNIAy9cbPysyzeNg2fJFJZwPZFEdobjSbN0z0OeR9l2kL4YC2m5fHJGp6p-wdbj52Iog14TJXCENS8iJpk0/w480-h640/b1e95cca-f11f-43b2-b3b5-075fc3729db2.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the last donut :(</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Just as we arrived, we discovered the restaurant misunderstood us, and had the sushi ready for pick-up and not delivery. Then, we missed our last train home by 1 minute. </p><p>Still, it was one of our better trips, because it was so, so funny. Like most things with Jeff. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxry2S5lq6zEDB9Hf_4Y8pt6_mRPLqq5ZJzCHp18wN5r3JWfbaFg9veNtA_pCcE4s2cob91W0JZPlXK9tdmD2SEJpQ0pFlpkHztkRulp0hXNDE4s861Eu3Rsnez8qkyYZ-YS8_MqEvZ4I/s2016/IMG_3960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxry2S5lq6zEDB9Hf_4Y8pt6_mRPLqq5ZJzCHp18wN5r3JWfbaFg9veNtA_pCcE4s2cob91W0JZPlXK9tdmD2SEJpQ0pFlpkHztkRulp0hXNDE4s861Eu3Rsnez8qkyYZ-YS8_MqEvZ4I/w480-h640/IMG_3960.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><u><i>June Challenge:</i></u> </p><p>Explore my new injury lol...Piriformis Syndrome! *chef's kiss*</p><p><i><u>Fitness:</u></i></p><p>I've been running more consistently and building up mileage little by little, and I've even done a couple of interval runs on the treadmill now that it's back open again, but alas, the physiotherapist advised me to take a break from running yet again, to recover this new fancy glute injury. I'm allowed to walk, apparently, so ...good thing that's still...available..for my enjoyment. </p><p>Here's an excerpt from a book I've been reading (which I mentioned last month), which I have found exceptionally useful:</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDmmj0ZrMMx9rdvAHNQ2NRqxCyTH9SHRDAYkFF5Du53tbApEcDnXIkMmoUsmmnDp1AHiaaBDQpgVNFfGUpaPWtrSIkTwwvv9qCziOq6JFkgasndAsvvJtyTtB_2n5fomCsqyDhEiuB6Fs/s2016/IMG_3820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDmmj0ZrMMx9rdvAHNQ2NRqxCyTH9SHRDAYkFF5Du53tbApEcDnXIkMmoUsmmnDp1AHiaaBDQpgVNFfGUpaPWtrSIkTwwvv9qCziOq6JFkgasndAsvvJtyTtB_2n5fomCsqyDhEiuB6Fs/w480-h640/IMG_3820.JPG" width="480" /></a></p><br /><p><br /></p><p><i><u>Bonus: OMG:</u></i></p><p>WE FOUND CARDAMOM BUNS! As in..the real deal. In DUBLIN! One Sunday morning, we ran to Smithfield which was about 6km from our house, and it was the most perfectly quiet, early morning run. The coffee shop selling them is called Proper Order Coffee, but they're delivered from a different bakery. We picked up these gorgeous, perfect buns, and some nitro coffees, and walked back. It was ****amazing****</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqkidOTH2aeGmNU89IPBgISA89fbzFH_r7rPAVvjz0XD9j0qZ41yUKhweObuQtJsit_Mdlva6R5weoVlOhMIEkepMtnRD6MFBknrmqCtBl-AmhF130pD_vsig04n2sWv-Qn4L1HrgO8bk/s2016/IMG_3867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqkidOTH2aeGmNU89IPBgISA89fbzFH_r7rPAVvjz0XD9j0qZ41yUKhweObuQtJsit_Mdlva6R5weoVlOhMIEkepMtnRD6MFBknrmqCtBl-AmhF130pD_vsig04n2sWv-Qn4L1HrgO8bk/w480-h640/IMG_3867.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1-OVn8JfMhKlMzhJqsW87q8mBloNqShN3o2DEInaZO-eO2Q7yhrk2CTELMhai_Sv3pL6bhxzXEqSkvlIFWK7Ogh9Bu9oXY2eWm6TXUUG0ZrVB4CS_TMVJ3oyNy-63nO__3LuzRNhw0VY/s2016/IMG_3875.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1-OVn8JfMhKlMzhJqsW87q8mBloNqShN3o2DEInaZO-eO2Q7yhrk2CTELMhai_Sv3pL6bhxzXEqSkvlIFWK7Ogh9Bu9oXY2eWm6TXUUG0ZrVB4CS_TMVJ3oyNy-63nO__3LuzRNhw0VY/w480-h640/IMG_3875.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>DOUBLE BONUS:</p><p>I found a bakery that does delicate, expertly crafted French cakes, called La Patisserie. Back in Canada, we would make up any excuse to buy a French cake, and when I told Jeff this limited edition Fraisier (pistachio mousse, with soft layers of vanilla sponge and strawberries) was essential to celebrate the beginning of summer (thereby coined The Summer Cake), I never heard the end of it. </p><p>"HAHA A SUMMER CAKE! THAT IS NOT A THING!"</p><p>"What even IS a summer cake?!"</p><p>"Your a idiot"</p><p>Whatever, I made up the last part, but he may as well have said that. Then, he pretended to be a French baker and, with a tone of caramelized ignorance, he proceeded to 'call me' to 'confirm' ma summah cake-ah.</p><p>Well anyway, then it arrived. And this is what it said on it:</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW1qVh9ZKcgVZouHWA5je7WQd8I3JFnNqvNDqIO7zKlCTGS6fnld9azMA46amMCYRJ5DdSfTdWhZWabIvJCS4PdfUobvYM2Jdcf2FKyteDjf7bcnuYwW_0VAgN3RXTisSNSZYhTyHDGEc/s2016/IMG_4172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW1qVh9ZKcgVZouHWA5je7WQd8I3JFnNqvNDqIO7zKlCTGS6fnld9azMA46amMCYRJ5DdSfTdWhZWabIvJCS4PdfUobvYM2Jdcf2FKyteDjf7bcnuYwW_0VAgN3RXTisSNSZYhTyHDGEc/w480-h640/IMG_4172.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tcH4_6PLecYTm1UUV2SQgBaUEMXf74NdzpBEjE_ECdd_XHTeM3lvG8c883ScU-2gKovBPu2_QMxN7ODYm7KculETn3AyXPFmBdD7DfyFDUWiZZYx4Z5lK38aEiAN4d06mUd9_BI2XQE/s2016/IMG_4175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tcH4_6PLecYTm1UUV2SQgBaUEMXf74NdzpBEjE_ECdd_XHTeM3lvG8c883ScU-2gKovBPu2_QMxN7ODYm7KculETn3AyXPFmBdD7DfyFDUWiZZYx4Z5lK38aEiAN4d06mUd9_BI2XQE/w480-h640/IMG_4175.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>And it was fucking delicious! So ta gueule :) </p><p>This month, our favourite local bar, The Yacht, opened their outdoor patio, and while I don't have any pictures other than this one wherein I resemble a great-grandmother, I have to say it has added so much to our sunny evenings..</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMjabF_ygn7yUmbQAjOM4hX3fsq2LZqefon_kKx3mHHNz24LUOQpimIhG73CjiszuOwN5RpoYVdouJB1QQN78fADDErIW4aYW_unY1sAHy4KoFQn-QPbuRl8-IPb5IuJivHaInXgC94o/s1600/dc3c0148-459b-4641-8590-bd432d3091a2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMjabF_ygn7yUmbQAjOM4hX3fsq2LZqefon_kKx3mHHNz24LUOQpimIhG73CjiszuOwN5RpoYVdouJB1QQN78fADDErIW4aYW_unY1sAHy4KoFQn-QPbuRl8-IPb5IuJivHaInXgC94o/w480-h640/dc3c0148-459b-4641-8590-bd432d3091a2.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>One of the most exciting things to happen this month is my package finally arriving from Canada! My mom sent it months ago, and we were sure it was lost, but then:</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_63NpJjdAaWCLm9kGDQ623Jnt2uCLLWAwIY6HhPDw9V5Hblh8-SddAwTU7HrxRebPPVAiI0FsorTWxVyWegep_7L12k9Qq34gCbmA_3SeB0JUMG6JPku-rYOQ1S69hbIBzxP2_0NNz_c/s2016/IMG_3911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_63NpJjdAaWCLm9kGDQ623Jnt2uCLLWAwIY6HhPDw9V5Hblh8-SddAwTU7HrxRebPPVAiI0FsorTWxVyWegep_7L12k9Qq34gCbmA_3SeB0JUMG6JPku-rYOQ1S69hbIBzxP2_0NNz_c/w480-h640/IMG_3911.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>And lastly, amidst all the failed attempts at structure, at running, at staying positive, within all the moments of <i>I have had enough, </i>I would remember these flowers, which Jeff had sent to me when he was working from the office of his new job. The card said, "Everything is going to be okay" and this month made me want to believe him.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGoxEonxPItuD86O7g8EaqDim9g6VwfM1m0WRfINeIaOFt8-zFLscTpQnU36woZUEpdyZQCa60S6SECySti1k1xcs3euu60fCiNUAFdPvL8_H0IlgXPSuGkc8sAiaa8hcpt0Z6djOE_Z4/s2016/IMG_4102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGoxEonxPItuD86O7g8EaqDim9g6VwfM1m0WRfINeIaOFt8-zFLscTpQnU36woZUEpdyZQCa60S6SECySti1k1xcs3euu60fCiNUAFdPvL8_H0IlgXPSuGkc8sAiaa8hcpt0Z6djOE_Z4/w480-h640/IMG_4102.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><span><!--more--></span>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-81125872026729307192021-06-04T11:53:00.002-04:002021-06-04T11:53:47.149-04:00May Roundup<p>Giving yourself a chance to audit your life often results in being reminded, again and again, how quickly it passes. How could I have gone from a to-do list for May, to four days into the next month, all the while wondering what I had even tasked myself with, in the first place? This realisation makes the very concept of our corporate ambitions seem drole and futile. How can it not? How do you form a five (or one, or ten) year plan when the non-linearity of life, coupled with its one non-stop-express-roll-onto-the-tracks-if-you-want-off speed are the conclusion you come to, month after month, hitting you over your stupid dunce head, again and again? Anyway, I had an eclair yesterday.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQJDTQgRxCgbRgw-B9gs39cTQF-zIM7ojUkt4YrpZczcwmbHme8QAWQNhhiPAF4ijEwP4XcxV-cjarxEvAVY5rBt4456WVOwYVDAyj7X_-x08F9_suHK9P4RqWC1vBWG_LYhWJkHASxU/s1600/1fa76e17-6f12-49cd-ad79-f86d1cdce2c0+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQJDTQgRxCgbRgw-B9gs39cTQF-zIM7ojUkt4YrpZczcwmbHme8QAWQNhhiPAF4ijEwP4XcxV-cjarxEvAVY5rBt4456WVOwYVDAyj7X_-x08F9_suHK9P4RqWC1vBWG_LYhWJkHASxU/w480-h640/1fa76e17-6f12-49cd-ad79-f86d1cdce2c0+%25281%2529.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><br /></p><p>I got it from the bakery I mentioned a couple of months ago, Sceal Bakery. It was described as a fig leaf chocolate ganache topped eclair, and it tasted nothing of fig leaves, and frankly, Tesco does them better. I just want to be honest about this less-than-ethereal experience because lately I've noticed people talk things up so much on social media, and for people like me who fall for it every damn time, sometimes it helps to read an honest review. </p><p>So here's how May went, overall..</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><u><i>Something Productive</i></u></p><p>I wanted to redecorate the living room and the bedroom, and to come up with a colour scheme that went together somewhat better than the dinosaur/doll head/Santa sock scenario we had going on for a while. The problem is I am afraid of accents and colour and details, so it took me a very long time to even decide on the colour of the picture frame to go on the mantle. In the end, we went to Ikea, got frames, vases, and a cactus that seems to be growing some sort of monster of his own...(pics to come if I'm still alive next month), then I opened a Shutterstock account, found some pictures that matched the colour scheme I was looking for, had them blown up and printed, and framed them. Things are looking better, but I'm not yet done, so I'll have to share a photo next month.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht8XUtbARbtKAmKw_yxhg3SmORk0Nzsy9BshFgfqph9-__J18T6m8ZKrKnTJp1IE4F-qkOz40WmpurCWTuGYOkP5LOBkEYP7vFhvZtmblrQwP2jmErqbqOGKbiwB4VA9TCi8mRYBNv1yY/s1600/01b23c31-3faa-41af-875f-5cd5580abb2b.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht8XUtbARbtKAmKw_yxhg3SmORk0Nzsy9BshFgfqph9-__J18T6m8ZKrKnTJp1IE4F-qkOz40WmpurCWTuGYOkP5LOBkEYP7vFhvZtmblrQwP2jmErqbqOGKbiwB4VA9TCi8mRYBNv1yY/w480-h640/01b23c31-3faa-41af-875f-5cd5580abb2b.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My most romantic, thoughtful fiancé gave me these fluffy white peonies :O</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><i><u>Something Creative</u></i></p><p>If you're reading this, you probably know me. And if you know me, you already know just how much I love shawarma, and precisely the shawarmas you'd get in either Shawarma Prince, Shawarma King, Shawarma Palace, Shawarma Dynasty, Shawarma Monarchy, Shawarma I don't know, just all the royalty-themed shawarma joints in Ottawa. I haven't been back home in a while, and I really missed the unmistakeable zing of the pickled turnip, and the sharp HEY HOW ARE YA of the garlic sauce (made from pure garlic, not the diluted yellow-ish crap most fast food places buy in unmarked tubs). So, for something creative, and purely because I couldn't take another shawarma-less night, I decided to make my own shawarma. </p><p>I pickled turnip for 6 days..</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQ-7FkVt5LaKOoNc_J1K7QC-xugZS1SPsPd38P4CzET2-fG9G7EvuXmmS7ETlFIZMtuS-08npycz9-2tzB_2Itid7987ltabY8U1y7PKJ3YLPoxhrxl-WW3fWHOOS1fQZnTQkKQKsZ_s/s849/IMG_3389.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="634" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQ-7FkVt5LaKOoNc_J1K7QC-xugZS1SPsPd38P4CzET2-fG9G7EvuXmmS7ETlFIZMtuS-08npycz9-2tzB_2Itid7987ltabY8U1y7PKJ3YLPoxhrxl-WW3fWHOOS1fQZnTQkKQKsZ_s/w478-h640/IMG_3389.PNG" width="478" /></a></div><br /><p>I bought a little baby food processor to emulsify the garlic into a sauce..</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvo6UY7PRGaMdG8IQmLyMu8bUgcJOwZ2H1ljLYKG_KF6OO0_M83L3yCr9r9GJhTRYUD1WD2Vr7BU9Fk8CWWQf161qqHc7bEdeEJSoZvGGxN5fKPfPQGVl1qFDnpzyN-gWDWCWRFY7Koh4/s729/IMG_3390.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="729" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvo6UY7PRGaMdG8IQmLyMu8bUgcJOwZ2H1ljLYKG_KF6OO0_M83L3yCr9r9GJhTRYUD1WD2Vr7BU9Fk8CWWQf161qqHc7bEdeEJSoZvGGxN5fKPfPQGVl1qFDnpzyN-gWDWCWRFY7Koh4/w562-h640/IMG_3390.jpg" width="562" /></a></div><br /><p>I tracked down the proper pitas for the occasion (not the thick ones they use to wrap kebabs here but the thin stone-baked, drier ones), and I found a recipe for an amazing marinade for the chicken thighs. </p><p>It took a lot of time and a lot of effort, and I have so much respect for people who do this on a regular basis, who just pick out a recipe they want to make, and make it at all costs. Anyway, in the end, it was SO worth it. It was 95% close to the taste of the authentic ones from back home (or Lebanon I guess lol), and Jeff and I ended up eating shawarmas for a week straight because we couldn't get enough. This picture doesn't do it justice, and I'm already craving another one..</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEdZEXtt0mUIjNVFwPidaQCNBPmaBpwp_NPdZsq2ryCFeRMUVJTOlytF_az3Z7ZUUx0NkJpJCFE9YPMeDrvytipWM5S3aK0C4d9kqIbqBlUho1uSdm1OBhbDqUjZmxybkiy67rX98UvM/s1600/e1f60c5e-422c-4033-8181-acf9b1d12a81.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEdZEXtt0mUIjNVFwPidaQCNBPmaBpwp_NPdZsq2ryCFeRMUVJTOlytF_az3Z7ZUUx0NkJpJCFE9YPMeDrvytipWM5S3aK0C4d9kqIbqBlUho1uSdm1OBhbDqUjZmxybkiy67rX98UvM/w480-h640/e1f60c5e-422c-4033-8181-acf9b1d12a81.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><u><br /></u></p><p><u>Learning Something</u></p><p>I've been reading a book called <i>Shake It Off! Build Emotional Strength for Daily Happiness</i> by Rafael Santandreu because it was recommended...on a random Reddit thread...by a random person...for random reasons. It's one of those books that draws on old parables that seem exaggerated and at times idiotic (<i>And the master laughed at the pupil and said Simply by asking me to guide you to peace you have humiliated yourself and your family, and the pupil cried until his hair fell out and his face lit on fire and That is why we must never search for..</i>) etc. </p><p>But the main lessons in each chapter have really helped push my mindset in the right direction, and confirm what I've been hoping to solidify in my perception of what is truly of value in life. I'd recommend this book to anyone who feels like their reaction to negative events overwhelms them, as it really helps ground your perception of what is truly 'bad', and what we should draw joy from. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht09l-uGfQ9DEzIWRjYrj9Wkrg2jszn08_HFCN7uQb_Xgmwv3Q0pgZZ5GQE7ciMS2cn5F-F9MAPTOGJ8WF2VLB5Ja8BEset2gtidLCru-l6hYqYnmDHNh1vhwThW2MszCnW36demqZpkI/s2016/IMG_3702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht09l-uGfQ9DEzIWRjYrj9Wkrg2jszn08_HFCN7uQb_Xgmwv3Q0pgZZ5GQE7ciMS2cn5F-F9MAPTOGJ8WF2VLB5Ja8BEset2gtidLCru-l6hYqYnmDHNh1vhwThW2MszCnW36demqZpkI/w480-h640/IMG_3702.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Speaking of things that bring me joy...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><u><i>Something New</i></u></p><p>This month felt a little more lively, and a few places opened up for outdoor takeaway food, so we walked to a neighbourhood called Portobello, and got dumplings and bao buns from Eatyard. I didn't take pictures of our lunch because I was so hungry that by the time it arrived I forgot what a photograph was. It was pretty good though! And also, here is a slender dog in a coat, waiting for his order.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiNPJFZGLX5Xio4S8rJ2MtE3jQ1QQi9164cRrCljoPoHVvJ8ftqpJkGE_X8-Iqxf02CzJN_kCu9OEIVFAyqMW9_qtvhe5bFSTaXwGTNZLQg0ltw_M9k28yFrtrDJ-xx7uwQfnJPQzvEaw/s2016/IMG_3615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiNPJFZGLX5Xio4S8rJ2MtE3jQ1QQi9164cRrCljoPoHVvJ8ftqpJkGE_X8-Iqxf02CzJN_kCu9OEIVFAyqMW9_qtvhe5bFSTaXwGTNZLQg0ltw_M9k28yFrtrDJ-xx7uwQfnJPQzvEaw/w480-h640/IMG_3615.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><u><i><br /></i></u></p><p><u><i>Something Caring</i></u></p>This month, I sent my dad a letter with a list of my favourite memories of us through the years, and some photos I printed, which he will hopefully like looking at. My dad isn't very demanding of my attention unless he needs help resetting his bank password for the fucking trillionth time, so sometimes I wonder if he thinks of me in a non-functional/set-up-his-tablet way. I'm not sure what he'll think when he receives the letter, as we never, ever talk about anything heartfelt, and part of me wonders if, having read the first few lines, he'll automatically, through no volition of his own, fold the letter back into the envelope and flush it down his toilet. [Along with the photos] [Happy father's day to all the dads out there]<div><br /></div><div><i><u>Fitness</u></i><br /><p>Welp, an exercise in being thankful for being able to run at all, I suppose. This month I got to reach a new milestone: clearing out the last remaining funds in my bank account in exchange for several trips to an injury specialist and a couple of MRIs! Here's me in MRI pants! What I really love about them is the unforgiving material, which is sort of like the militant doppelganger of the Lululemon Align pant, except it sucks you in due to unaccommodating medical-grade polyester, as opposed to its Luon(TM) Technology.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtO5XCLcpdcMiw-qa1HgxBchd3KY-MjG8gtmE7NUTBsp7rStbfkHSxVT6z6JPRc_QUYfCFFoVLWjvgm0qKnFuIG8liUog-RcnQxZMO0KdLXaFzh55UhkUnxXrOtpCNvpngbKIf3fZnbRs/s2016/IMG_3573.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtO5XCLcpdcMiw-qa1HgxBchd3KY-MjG8gtmE7NUTBsp7rStbfkHSxVT6z6JPRc_QUYfCFFoVLWjvgm0qKnFuIG8liUog-RcnQxZMO0KdLXaFzh55UhkUnxXrOtpCNvpngbKIf3fZnbRs/w480-h640/IMG_3573.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><u><br /></u><p></p><p>Oh, I also tried a plank challenge for four days and somehow injured myself further by like..literally doing the plank for not even two minutes a day. </p><p><br /></p><p><u><i>May Challenge</i></u></p><p>I wanted to finally highlight my hair, and to gather the courage to try a new toner formula because my beloved Wella Colour Charm (All my T11/T14 girls holla!!!!) is not available here. I watched literally all of YouTube and decided on the Redken Shades EQ range, which was actually so expensive, and in the end, while I did like the toning effect, it washed out in like four washes, so it definitely doesn't measure up to good ol' Wella. ALSO I tried new professional grade hair foils this time around (whereas I usually use kitchen foil) and the bleach bled SO much, I look like an absolute idiot underneath the top layer of my head. An idiot. Live and learn. </p><p>Here's the before..</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7tasPbFWZGVLxmvJXRVPadXIwx3Gd1vm9vcj6NddTZYvJofWGWIfa-kx6IgxbfPvTWQq2UcBIEEc0yVPMAmXH2pdFlohvNJjrTl2376LlK4FmQLXrHS3wWlAyZOHoTJ0bNqZcrGW5hg/s1280/IMG_3318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7tasPbFWZGVLxmvJXRVPadXIwx3Gd1vm9vcj6NddTZYvJofWGWIfa-kx6IgxbfPvTWQq2UcBIEEc0yVPMAmXH2pdFlohvNJjrTl2376LlK4FmQLXrHS3wWlAyZOHoTJ0bNqZcrGW5hg/w480-h640/IMG_3318.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>And this is the after..</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__F2i58bve1On_5c-8MQeHK6KF_oTmM1TAr9uKuClsqwbKI7DKM2YoeaTsbWZlklPDvYuXKKtboe9hAcy9E5QYb91usNIxGMfh4B7OEQgiyoONMR_6-_w-d3pAz74D9pxbbJw40HmubY/s848/IMG_3345.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__F2i58bve1On_5c-8MQeHK6KF_oTmM1TAr9uKuClsqwbKI7DKM2YoeaTsbWZlklPDvYuXKKtboe9hAcy9E5QYb91usNIxGMfh4B7OEQgiyoONMR_6-_w-d3pAz74D9pxbbJw40HmubY/w484-h640/IMG_3345.PNG" width="484" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>That's all, but here are a few more favourites!</p><p><u><br /></u></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf7Rx8vOnk-D5n8JoeizELp4dBNApQba3eSkumywv_fIpn_3NOJRTQuscjvCKT7SD6guTIbwTaKmNu9kCJT3yPO2jTMVJVt7c-Z6Wa_xyQbxjbZPCOkyFCoFSbpbIqMHxWCxsvFo-d4Ks/s1136/F5FEC7F3-A271-4189-B0E5-D242E8A74066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf7Rx8vOnk-D5n8JoeizELp4dBNApQba3eSkumywv_fIpn_3NOJRTQuscjvCKT7SD6guTIbwTaKmNu9kCJT3yPO2jTMVJVt7c-Z6Wa_xyQbxjbZPCOkyFCoFSbpbIqMHxWCxsvFo-d4Ks/w360-h640/F5FEC7F3-A271-4189-B0E5-D242E8A74066.JPG" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favourite thing to do outside our little house: snacks and ros<span style="text-align: left;">é</span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><u><br /></u></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpxym7zRYoiYwaQjA7VLXy7nOoWivctiMLDaRe-2xhH1XW_ENK_BNabSJckBKxfB9NsA6TehQN36Cl28Ib_q1pkGuRA69mf2fmGsSAHH2P8NYclZE9ez_PUZdWrQ-Yar4v_dgiw4Y7PkA/s2016/IMG_3619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpxym7zRYoiYwaQjA7VLXy7nOoWivctiMLDaRe-2xhH1XW_ENK_BNabSJckBKxfB9NsA6TehQN36Cl28Ib_q1pkGuRA69mf2fmGsSAHH2P8NYclZE9ez_PUZdWrQ-Yar4v_dgiw4Y7PkA/w480-h640/IMG_3619.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><u><br /></u><p></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTj7tIXLGHX4tlKpQ-BI4Z0lSyavuSXHs7NBAc1gNXgrYz2mqkiuyej4VlY6DMoFmvYQgoz9EssDaheb3ysK0pe0gf7N1lr0JXK1iuUeb4fwnBUAaBOWfausTUrkY6LII2AVytnDdTnaU/s1600/454e945e-7f42-470c-8a40-afbd6ea366ad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTj7tIXLGHX4tlKpQ-BI4Z0lSyavuSXHs7NBAc1gNXgrYz2mqkiuyej4VlY6DMoFmvYQgoz9EssDaheb3ysK0pe0gf7N1lr0JXK1iuUeb4fwnBUAaBOWfausTUrkY6LII2AVytnDdTnaU/w480-h640/454e945e-7f42-470c-8a40-afbd6ea366ad.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sourdough and peonies from Lotts + flat white from Surge in Clontarf</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo5g7Zm6N6pq4GcRMKCdsqQDUlTGifypSXAarhWcVLE4Cnv0E3dUtDJGUoteLPhGV_Nfo_ANzPRdUg8P_XP_Ah8sSzbwC6PxAw8eTZ101fh-q0GmgmMoD7vhvI48BP5_WSabsRZ73Eu_U/s2016/IMG_3704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo5g7Zm6N6pq4GcRMKCdsqQDUlTGifypSXAarhWcVLE4Cnv0E3dUtDJGUoteLPhGV_Nfo_ANzPRdUg8P_XP_Ah8sSzbwC6PxAw8eTZ101fh-q0GmgmMoD7vhvI48BP5_WSabsRZ73Eu_U/w480-h640/IMG_3704.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><u><br /></u><p></p><p><u><br /></u></p><p><u><br /></u></p></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-59099849408310589472021-04-30T14:30:00.001-04:002021-04-30T14:30:32.716-04:00April<p>If I could tear April out of its binding, neatly, at the seam, so that March and May would be none the wiser, I would. April has been the chewing gum forever latching on to my shoe sole, the ring on the coffee table, the umbrella pulling into the sky, inside out, while I’m scrambling to run from a thunderstorm. I wish I could fold it into an origami plane and flick it away into the starless sky holding all of the disintegrated hopes of this pandemic.</p><p>I am so glad it’s over.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjITJ4BTSHGnsTiNSDHq3penMLtw_9zvnu2lmtzo_9ZOnD8V2uE-WiAX6jAUFNCnkUqNyIDAKM9JTiqgB6E-h5cnM5Loi6dKdEg1mx3wTifQO14uxvI-vwk4LtSsUTNCtdJ35kucIumYnQ/s2048/IMG_3066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjITJ4BTSHGnsTiNSDHq3penMLtw_9zvnu2lmtzo_9ZOnD8V2uE-WiAX6jAUFNCnkUqNyIDAKM9JTiqgB6E-h5cnM5Loi6dKdEg1mx3wTifQO14uxvI-vwk4LtSsUTNCtdJ35kucIumYnQ/w480-h640/IMG_3066.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p>A doctor put me on Amitriptyline for my neck pain, and somehow, it did the opposite of what it was supposed to do, depression and anxiety cloaking me so tightly that no, I didn’t want to die, but I also did not want today. My world became smaller, and conjuring up a to-do list, a goal, an idea, all elicited a car sickness. Screaming into a pillow felt like the only release, and yet, it too, was too exhausting. With the half-life of this drug nearing its end, I feel almost like myself again, but this month, the concepts of caring, socializing, creating, producing pressed their hands into the glass, and I was on the other side, watching the weeks go by, motionless.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBeJTOvIoTjoIkYZa7LMcfEyO2aRQyBb7JhM05I_DyfBqEfdhyphenhyphenI-MJ03hIi6qCS-HivOvCF_50KHNnSpNLIHQsFpiOpMd9MonEUCOfOCqRzWZ7fJS2CACcFJXy9iw_UsA4-S2ycDet_A/s2048/IMG_3152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBeJTOvIoTjoIkYZa7LMcfEyO2aRQyBb7JhM05I_DyfBqEfdhyphenhyphenI-MJ03hIi6qCS-HivOvCF_50KHNnSpNLIHQsFpiOpMd9MonEUCOfOCqRzWZ7fJS2CACcFJXy9iw_UsA4-S2ycDet_A/w480-h640/IMG_3152.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>I wanted to send my dad a letter this month, with some photos for the little walls in his studio apartment. I printed the photos but felt too broken for words, so they’re still on my windowsill now. </p><div><div>I wanted to colour my hair, but the pain in my shoulders was too much. </div><div><br /></div><div>I learned and wrote, and learned, and thought, and wrote, about myself and why I feel so deeply, incredibly low. I never want to see those notes again, and I now fill my days with distractions because, as I discovered, there is such thing as overthinking. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9MKKV7X__vynCnjR5fNFmDICiSBqOJWu6VB88oy4AzcCWaJ-ev50FoI4mF-sr_ox1CyhZAxZWy0crhlBLoB74raq9fP8zhDsZU453Fekflec6r7PFwY5s_rJT4k5XyZj4ILWS_EWHlI/s766/97F707E9-A737-4486-8F7E-E391FE11160F.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="766" data-original-width="639" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9MKKV7X__vynCnjR5fNFmDICiSBqOJWu6VB88oy4AzcCWaJ-ev50FoI4mF-sr_ox1CyhZAxZWy0crhlBLoB74raq9fP8zhDsZU453Fekflec6r7PFwY5s_rJT4k5XyZj4ILWS_EWHlI/w534-h640/97F707E9-A737-4486-8F7E-E391FE11160F.JPG" width="534" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My Something Productive was an attempt at redecorating our apartment, currently featuring flowers and Minions, and Notorious B.I.G. lyrics on a canvas, and candles, and stacks of old notebooks, and a mini globe of Ottawa which Jeff proudly displayed and which I will forever love; a dinosaur puzzle, race medals, a drawing of a brain, unworn Santa socks, and a creepy Kinder Surprise toy in the shape? of a soviet? bunker? …Jeff still makes me laugh, as do those things. I didn’t want to touch them.</div><div><br /></div><div>We walked up Howth mountain this month and the sun and wind blew into my ears and eyes until I couldn’t think, and I felt so wonderfully light-headed, a feeling carried by the Heinekens we had on our way down. I love Howth- my Something New Again.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJEghJmRpX-FzNcbVqol5eV8WMS1ZiOiJaj-xSolfrGytUNyROSkP06No_rGorL0CDgXKoPikr2DkkpIoeAjvDtR0BayIub6pjh1lwV_YCCKpAjECnSndg77TfcsvN_O2swJs0ShOjcII/s1600/1c4d0588-163b-484b-8084-a6e5b7963654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJEghJmRpX-FzNcbVqol5eV8WMS1ZiOiJaj-xSolfrGytUNyROSkP06No_rGorL0CDgXKoPikr2DkkpIoeAjvDtR0BayIub6pjh1lwV_YCCKpAjECnSndg77TfcsvN_O2swJs0ShOjcII/w480-h640/1c4d0588-163b-484b-8084-a6e5b7963654.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid1lZp7mjKI2krBrhhnKU50Pxk93FAlLHLd2iBxsgl-8Op8c35iefeiSi8UlpOnCSp9x7Fwxu1Aw-V4oz9J2m8S_dA9L47Bu8csq_2DXe8DiNNCUtcWd7GainHfbCnuunGWQGiv9mJ2cw/s1136/8DD09088-B661-4BA9-AE39-2CF76E6B9EB8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid1lZp7mjKI2krBrhhnKU50Pxk93FAlLHLd2iBxsgl-8Op8c35iefeiSi8UlpOnCSp9x7Fwxu1Aw-V4oz9J2m8S_dA9L47Bu8csq_2DXe8DiNNCUtcWd7GainHfbCnuunGWQGiv9mJ2cw/w360-h640/8DD09088-B661-4BA9-AE39-2CF76E6B9EB8.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhEVPFw1g59qoPd673MVuffghLJt52AjHfnKVMLKFKBYK4qAgh-f-WV8wis2WuweBsJse5b3zrdHyRHF-J7UevBuv0t4ML1z8NO3Ans9xYE3_R-kr2ksOFC7n36MzJ0muszzzfAAs2v98/s1600/7634a38a-f1ba-45ae-8a09-2f4e8947a5c4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhEVPFw1g59qoPd673MVuffghLJt52AjHfnKVMLKFKBYK4qAgh-f-WV8wis2WuweBsJse5b3zrdHyRHF-J7UevBuv0t4ML1z8NO3Ans9xYE3_R-kr2ksOFC7n36MzJ0muszzzfAAs2v98/w480-h640/7634a38a-f1ba-45ae-8a09-2f4e8947a5c4.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-xIwfSsVRzNbbwEmPyXxVh9uyB6S0m8zZeoezNxhABfnFQ-BCq3SsSviGqOjIqCevTg28oxdqOKEcT86S6kxiUJwZ4z8DtBnfF1Tba-OP53QeCgkYu5tq-B5IkTo2ndJ9t2_u9UR4x4/s2048/IMG_3131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-xIwfSsVRzNbbwEmPyXxVh9uyB6S0m8zZeoezNxhABfnFQ-BCq3SsSviGqOjIqCevTg28oxdqOKEcT86S6kxiUJwZ4z8DtBnfF1Tba-OP53QeCgkYu5tq-B5IkTo2ndJ9t2_u9UR4x4/w480-h640/IMG_3131.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>On the darkest days, I found the courage to walk with a friend. We sat, surrounded by green bushes and acorns, our coffees, and seagulls eyeing anything worth a peck. It isn’t lost on me how important friendships are.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, I also ran 5 kilometres for the first time since last year.</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGQwv2QyWEv5rQg-uWdaOzofRaLFcKNRyyNEJ4xPOVzClLA_L6zl-qx9Og7UJTiH3lRBTgX8MDG153etPAflN8UNpxpdHmUkr40uSop2aqHy2ZKG71GPSYrwhgnQpJdyt9MPyiYegsTU/s1136/C7DE12F7-A009-428F-A6E1-E8B4D9A3C0F3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGQwv2QyWEv5rQg-uWdaOzofRaLFcKNRyyNEJ4xPOVzClLA_L6zl-qx9Og7UJTiH3lRBTgX8MDG153etPAflN8UNpxpdHmUkr40uSop2aqHy2ZKG71GPSYrwhgnQpJdyt9MPyiYegsTU/w360-h640/C7DE12F7-A009-428F-A6E1-E8B4D9A3C0F3.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div>Soon, when my neck doesn’t hurt, when there are planes in the sky again, when you get that promotion because you stuck around, when you look in the mirror and see your pretty eyes, this will be but a satirical etching in a weird little year we remember with equal parts empathy and neglect. </div><div>Don’t give up, don’t lose hope. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxLc25orCeUaYQ0BaVHyK-iub7-Rszi5Sdvfqf5wCk6FVxtDjpZJEpH-87LmiS8kTJUmGyCM_QIy54jIN-FOcsutbgY3G7DhIFX51Dh9MuJt13pn2p7vmqlD8Z_D6qpUXnfOiDSJMDpo/s1600/c6273f34-cf68-4e60-b8a8-33c96e6e7902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxLc25orCeUaYQ0BaVHyK-iub7-Rszi5Sdvfqf5wCk6FVxtDjpZJEpH-87LmiS8kTJUmGyCM_QIy54jIN-FOcsutbgY3G7DhIFX51Dh9MuJt13pn2p7vmqlD8Z_D6qpUXnfOiDSJMDpo/w480-h640/c6273f34-cf68-4e60-b8a8-33c96e6e7902.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div></div><p></p>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-84140890070284088322021-03-31T06:31:00.001-04:002021-03-31T06:32:15.616-04:00March Roundup<p>One of my bigger goals for March was to take a significant leap into the world of Irish culture and start learning the Irish language. I gave up after about three hours. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPUtHxLplDISYRZrNQH1M-x72FNZ0MKzoB7qqju-d5GSPgz88AKHBdI6_GQCM37yD4x0OK3nRCS5na12RzkgS35mg0MW2WbQ1GYENokrakDfZzPssw_YR2YZVw8zm-rUzhQ129PQdA5ow/s841/Screen+Shot+2021-03-31+at+10.54.23+AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="841" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPUtHxLplDISYRZrNQH1M-x72FNZ0MKzoB7qqju-d5GSPgz88AKHBdI6_GQCM37yD4x0OK3nRCS5na12RzkgS35mg0MW2WbQ1GYENokrakDfZzPssw_YR2YZVw8zm-rUzhQ129PQdA5ow/w640-h408/Screen+Shot+2021-03-31+at+10.54.23+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div><div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I read somewhere that the first language you learn teaches your mouth to shape itself in a way that makes it particularly easy to pronounce certain words. I learned Russian first, so the hard staccato Rs of Italian and Spanish were easy. English, I find, is just a very accommodating language and doesn’t require a lot of effort in pronunciation, and when I was very little, speaking Estonian was very similar in the softness of the dialect. Irish, however, is a whole other ball game, if the ball game was in another galaxy where sounds were formed from squeezing air between rocks or something. </div><div><br /></div><div>First of all, the traditional Irish alphabet is known as Irish, Gaelic, or Irish Gaelic. The standard name is Gaeilge, but prior to 1948, it was spelled Gaedhilge, while in Middle Irish it was spelled Gaoidhealg. Irish Gaelic is referred to as Gaeilge na hÉireann, and there are three main dialects: Munster, Connacht, and Ulster. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, when you wrap your head around that, there’s the original Ogham Alphabet which is comprised of essentially symbols, then there’s the Gaelic Script (enthusiastically used for pub signs and spelling every nerd’s Keep Out door poster.) Finally, there’s the modern Irish alphabet and if by that point your brain hasn’t melted, here is a basic sentence:</div><div><br /></div><div>Tá áthas orm buaileadh leat </div></div><div><br /></div><div><div>It means “Pleased to meet you” and I can guarantee that no matter how you pronounced it, it’s not the right way. Unless you are Irish. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjifa90BS0UXLcHkHDn1U8lq15TTTTveTKQwOSQnOyF3nBxiZU6kebCQJDbeFZb7D0q35580HbeiCX0b7mo3rwjnO2YOZyq4dFbOz6RK2gAWb0-WrhTTaqWn7g72tRr2D30whs_Tnv5QoY/s1600/3d248f14-042b-43e4-8db2-790302d281bc.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjifa90BS0UXLcHkHDn1U8lq15TTTTveTKQwOSQnOyF3nBxiZU6kebCQJDbeFZb7D0q35580HbeiCX0b7mo3rwjnO2YOZyq4dFbOz6RK2gAWb0-WrhTTaqWn7g72tRr2D30whs_Tnv5QoY/w480-h640/3d248f14-042b-43e4-8db2-790302d281bc.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, this is a very, very difficult language (and insane props to everyone who has learned it here), and I don’t find it intuitive at all so I can’t even predict how things are supposed to sound. I tried to learn the word for “egg” and I think it’s Uv, but I could be wrong, and to be honest, I don’t want to ask Jeff because he gets very cocky about how many words he knows. </div><div><br /></div><div>Okay I just looked it up. It’s UBH. ….but pronounced Oov. See what I mean? And it took me 30 days to learn that one word and I still can’t even. </div><div><br /></div><div>So anyway, the goal of learning Irish is going to be a slow-burning one. But that, in fact, was my Learning Something goal of the month, and I guess I learned that I am stupid.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div><i><u>Something Social:</u></i></div><div><br /></div><div>Once again, Lady Covid has thwarted my social plans, so the few Skype calls I’ve had with friends this month have been the highlight of my existence. More importantly though, this month, I wanted to focus on why I am the way I am, in an effort to stop feeling so fucking shitty about a lot of the things I do. I am an introvert with high-functioning social anxiety, and even though I’ve been this way for most of my life, I’ve never written about it. I tend to feel like there is something wrong with me that I can’t fix, and the cycle of shame and inevitable behavioural patterns doesn’t stop. </div><div><br /></div><div>For example, introverted people become exhausted from spending time with others. It’s not because I find the people or the party boring, it’s just a feeling of being really tired and unable to keep talking, and needing to be alone in a quiet room. It’s not a choice, or a statement of ‘everyone around me sucks’. It just happens, and it’s just how I feel, because an introverted person’s brain processes information differently and gets overstimulated by sensory stimuli. So, if I’m at a party, let’s say with Jeff, and we’ve been there a few hours and I start to feel exhausted, I ask him if I can dip out and go home by myself. He thinks I’m an asshole. It all works out great. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcnfAUTNwbomWv4rik5HEMGQU_9fgC3XyHhHDmUFF-JNJbPRoOJS7rb6_FCFaRR-xfR_4vLqYHKDS_pcJMyYybbaBgSyy0ionKcnQ75ViMHo-9-vMc0npKej6NAsKNN5kwTI4fzbYZ0s/s1136/IMG_2378.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcnfAUTNwbomWv4rik5HEMGQU_9fgC3XyHhHDmUFF-JNJbPRoOJS7rb6_FCFaRR-xfR_4vLqYHKDS_pcJMyYybbaBgSyy0ionKcnQ75ViMHo-9-vMc0npKej6NAsKNN5kwTI4fzbYZ0s/w360-h640/IMG_2378.PNG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Similarly, in an office setting, introverts need to recharge during the lunch hour. Not because they don’t want friends, not because they don’t want to talk to their co-workers on their break, but because they just need to reset their energy levels by spending time alone. Guess what everyone thinks, though. Guess. They think I’m an anti-social asshole. It all works out great.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdP48GaNN7diDfZGCA6WF7_-PvT8K4NLRfv5kWv19rlIY8JBCG_eQiU1Hc_a9U4n2ahE4VfNRI6vE5fSG12xhsocbrONYNW_2O8rjiBuBnAAUEm5_YMk05Vm1knWwdeYa0lpoQyo8lYqw/s2048/IMG_2771.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdP48GaNN7diDfZGCA6WF7_-PvT8K4NLRfv5kWv19rlIY8JBCG_eQiU1Hc_a9U4n2ahE4VfNRI6vE5fSG12xhsocbrONYNW_2O8rjiBuBnAAUEm5_YMk05Vm1knWwdeYa0lpoQyo8lYqw/w480-h640/IMG_2771.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>What makes me a person with high-functioning social anxiety is that I really like spending time with people, I can carry a conversation, I do like social events, and as I’ve already bragged about in past blog posts, I’m really good at interviews<i> rolling on floor laughing</i>. The distinction, for me, is how I feel being around people for longer periods of time, rather than how I handle myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>Introverts can feel very lonely, because they need people, but not too much, but they want to be invited to events, but they might have to leave earlier, but they don’t want to feel excluded, but they might say no to invitations because they find the idea of an unknown event full of people overwhelming. I’ve felt this way for a long time, and I’ve never wanted to talk about it because the stigma isn’t pretty, and it’s easier to just hide it. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HPzLQxlCwCnEKoH_FYIaRirKhYaqr5OofgKAtYZuAPQZdHLMEmzJEd3LUXftE6Wrrflykl6BiIXHz59_fy9_5LhDiSPvhbylkNyH94sWuZJEJkUBZgPqn0oqpC_Dm4N3NDiO8Rtl1rs/s2048/IMG_0726.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HPzLQxlCwCnEKoH_FYIaRirKhYaqr5OofgKAtYZuAPQZdHLMEmzJEd3LUXftE6Wrrflykl6BiIXHz59_fy9_5LhDiSPvhbylkNyH94sWuZJEJkUBZgPqn0oqpC_Dm4N3NDiO8Rtl1rs/w640-h640/IMG_0726.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I feel the world is built for extroverts and our expectations are that everyone will be energetic, positive, and up for a meet-up at all times. It’s a balancing act to seem like you have your social shit together but honour your need to be alone. Also, admitting that you prefer your own company to anyone else’s just makes you sound like a dick. It is what it is, and I wanted to carve this into the virtual stone of permanence that is this blog (omg fabulous) because I think nobody should feel so low about something that is inherently just a part of their personality, the way some people love extreme sports, or looking at pictures of animals wearing hats. </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><i><u>Something Productive:</u></i></div><div><br /></div><div>This month, I wanted to declutter, to find a place to put all the little bits and bobs of crap we have lying around the house, and I found a really nice grey box on Amazon, so problem solved. I mean junk stuff, not a box for actual turds. </div><div><br /></div><div>I also wanted to organize all of the photos on my computer desktop, and I finally did. Does anyone know what to do with pictures that are just so funny? But like..you know you’ll never open them again, but it also sucks to throw them out because they are so, so funny? But …you’ll never look at them again…? </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEY6arJo2kREsCbo89tzP9YT8Or0I5vnqIuxyne2E0daJnZkXkQsP3ouw3AgjC5xI5dWVt4VHWK03tI-kK6vmyqvz9OKkoCe0xHzhYfC0s3TCsT5Eh5j7lLWPQ17oJxmH8dw34j3qH-QA/s884/IMG_3699.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="884" data-original-width="635" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEY6arJo2kREsCbo89tzP9YT8Or0I5vnqIuxyne2E0daJnZkXkQsP3ouw3AgjC5xI5dWVt4VHWK03tI-kK6vmyqvz9OKkoCe0xHzhYfC0s3TCsT5Eh5j7lLWPQ17oJxmH8dw34j3qH-QA/w460-h640/IMG_3699.PNG" width="460" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1hUyYNAxr4nitxpraNg3A7vkrIeF0mY-eI_XBx5E7NTB74QZ9jEGDUZYf6j3NYGBpjDnR3nMmkQQz8ciRUGUnmlZTr910DgEIyS53PC4RKyQk1z-1A3Blnq8_gXY5mf1mqpcLb2mVTMw/s709/IMG_4406.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="709" data-original-width="621" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1hUyYNAxr4nitxpraNg3A7vkrIeF0mY-eI_XBx5E7NTB74QZ9jEGDUZYf6j3NYGBpjDnR3nMmkQQz8ciRUGUnmlZTr910DgEIyS53PC4RKyQk1z-1A3Blnq8_gXY5mf1mqpcLb2mVTMw/w560-h640/IMG_4406.PNG" width="560" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-VN8vb6abrSmxtkFdtxWPkksO6GvAtnGHsZ1_lNQyhC7CtPsPFMHzKTOHEkj7oJ9_ytBRXUnjrbmes1IiRtxpdEPVc7YcZld7gYuTXvdVFg9Wu7oJupG9CHk_vuzfhArVzYZoD4YUrg/s917/IMG_7452.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="917" data-original-width="639" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-VN8vb6abrSmxtkFdtxWPkksO6GvAtnGHsZ1_lNQyhC7CtPsPFMHzKTOHEkj7oJ9_ytBRXUnjrbmes1IiRtxpdEPVc7YcZld7gYuTXvdVFg9Wu7oJupG9CHk_vuzfhArVzYZoD4YUrg/w446-h640/IMG_7452.PNG" width="446" /></a></div><br /><div><div><u><i>Something Caring:</i></u></div><div><br /></div><div>Months ago, when I thought I would be going back to Canada, I bought my mom a fruit cake. She loves them, and I found her a lovely vodka blood orange one, but then had to put it away because my flight was cancelled and the route between Ireland and Canada was terminated, thanks to some fab new variants we have circulating in our international breathing space. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I was sad that my mom wouldn’t get to have the fruit cake, but then I decided to just ship it to her and packed it into a box with some other Irish treats. The postman at the post office said “You’re after committing a grave sin. You should take the fruit cake out. It weighs 2kgs so your shipping rate will double.” I said ummm ThAts KiND oF ThE PoINt oF ME SeNDiNg ThIs PaCKage SIR and paid the crazy shipping fee, which still ended up being less than sending ANYTHING to ANYONE from Canada. Honestly, what is up with Canadian shipping costs? </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF48S1Q9yPqtdT8AgMyViO7PvvZXBupXy6Vx1LpFFv4ywFTqNzn6nbPMcyaEQyf2FxQYQVLxOQUJaItXbdp-allpLlmuXsigSGFla4HH6w4sH8eG9UIx3jqCZZP9sX1dI9JuZtuhbSWfY/s1535/Screen+Shot+2020-09-30+at+4.39.20+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1535" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF48S1Q9yPqtdT8AgMyViO7PvvZXBupXy6Vx1LpFFv4ywFTqNzn6nbPMcyaEQyf2FxQYQVLxOQUJaItXbdp-allpLlmuXsigSGFla4HH6w4sH8eG9UIx3jqCZZP9sX1dI9JuZtuhbSWfY/w620-h640/Screen+Shot+2020-09-30+at+4.39.20+PM.png" width="620" /></a></div><br /><div><div><u><i><br /></i></u></div><div><u><i>Something New:</i></u></div><div><br /></div><div>A few weeks ago, some random Dublin Food account started following me on Instagram. It was around 7am and I was enjoying my usual morning insomnia, so naturally, I was perusing pictures of food and decided to check them out too. One of their posts was about none other than my favourite pastry in the world, the Cardamom Bun. It mentioned the name of a bakery we hadn’t heard of, <i>Scéal Bakery</i>, and I was so excited it was all I could think about for weeks. Our favourite place in London is <i>Fabrique Bakery </i>who make these unbelievable gooey cardamom buns and I’ve been so obsessed I even tried baking them myself last year:</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXnTxvG9lGekAhT4c-urosQaA65r4hvwfd53DpotqSbIQiT8Q3sG7JSKbgRXz2m1U1xOubXh4ZNLv69RWHZ05evLnB-bBySvX8WAsBDSHmIxpsb7-dedsqWlWMW4UconBbAI05SPlT8sY/s1136/DIAT1169.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXnTxvG9lGekAhT4c-urosQaA65r4hvwfd53DpotqSbIQiT8Q3sG7JSKbgRXz2m1U1xOubXh4ZNLv69RWHZ05evLnB-bBySvX8WAsBDSHmIxpsb7-dedsqWlWMW4UconBbAI05SPlT8sY/w360-h640/DIAT1169.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div><div>Anyway, imagine my elation at seeing that we could have them here! In Dublin! Without having to fly to the UK!</div><div><br /></div><div>Excited at the prospect of discovering the best pastries in Dublin from a secret bakery I somehow hadn’t yet discovered, I ordered a double chocolate croissant, two cardamom buns, and a wild garlic sourdough (with wild garlic from the Phoenix Park!!). We walked to the Fumbally Stables to pick up our treats (a new place I’ve never been to!) ..and here is what we got:</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHLIouLB_TZqvTDWAAlwavQw_ryGFzxYkGMWG2MgNNPeJqeBj_oBO2H47wMgvW-qlbQy4bhL0Yn4ARlmQmd7dJJfuIIlF1sBZ3KnJmm4cfXDZ1IfunufSr__CVpHuC0u5jDecGbK7lG1I/s1600/96bad5f8-d896-4acc-b851-d9907110f63f.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHLIouLB_TZqvTDWAAlwavQw_ryGFzxYkGMWG2MgNNPeJqeBj_oBO2H47wMgvW-qlbQy4bhL0Yn4ARlmQmd7dJJfuIIlF1sBZ3KnJmm4cfXDZ1IfunufSr__CVpHuC0u5jDecGbK7lG1I/w480-h640/96bad5f8-d896-4acc-b851-d9907110f63f.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsZEg7h8mWVfP3Kze4UxRzWeE46J_poPmXVBUMJngFNVtwO29F7v0iT_3fKkwNjqxJMPEyFfbMXIwH0_sC4Up5m81rWwvQLn7PP8laIoFOuploAADu9eWUp1Gv7BsBF4MPvAt7RcqlHA/s1600/7240d7f7-9605-4c9e-bbb3-41a1c152925b.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsZEg7h8mWVfP3Kze4UxRzWeE46J_poPmXVBUMJngFNVtwO29F7v0iT_3fKkwNjqxJMPEyFfbMXIwH0_sC4Up5m81rWwvQLn7PP8laIoFOuploAADu9eWUp1Gv7BsBF4MPvAt7RcqlHA/w480-h640/7240d7f7-9605-4c9e-bbb3-41a1c152925b.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The double chocolate croissant looked very impressive but tasted exactly like a regular pain au chocolat. Nothing special, really.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqwTeQYy0uajWdcxqX9py0Xn35hB0CsVNyDDUK1O9YQrxaPmA6nU2JxRqnzNOgwopUGdeRKlJ12R93pBnb4hfeoyEw2ZoiVuPVKyvQvJzSMGGXHD2GcNbH3ScHWChhQXjP1tVWj_D266I/s1411/c135d18e-1715-4064-a4f3-a5c43abd9d3e.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1411" data-original-width="1185" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqwTeQYy0uajWdcxqX9py0Xn35hB0CsVNyDDUK1O9YQrxaPmA6nU2JxRqnzNOgwopUGdeRKlJ12R93pBnb4hfeoyEw2ZoiVuPVKyvQvJzSMGGXHD2GcNbH3ScHWChhQXjP1tVWj_D266I/w538-h640/c135d18e-1715-4064-a4f3-a5c43abd9d3e.JPG" width="538" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The cardamom bun looked so pretty but tasted more like a flaky morning bun, with a hint of cardamom but certainly not the taste intensity or texture I was expecting. I wouldn’t get it again, because I’m not a huge fan of big flaky pastries. I was disappointed, but I didn’t cry, in case you were wondering. I knew it was too good to be true so I won't go into an aggressive diatribe as to how my hopes and dreams were crushed. It just is what it is and I'd like to move on with my life, please.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO23AoGMxSM0vHuO_fXZvibXrKLQIp4QxD_dLYwI4YoPiC5rzr-iz8S66ipifGmzlANM6GpD8jAeDxALLmATw1Rdhh3AtPbQxf7RK6ax7yi21VMYWboNxo5hvxAnnEPf6E_Ia2c5_mxsc/s1600/0f286a0d-df98-4b1d-b8fa-3a770e06bfdd.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO23AoGMxSM0vHuO_fXZvibXrKLQIp4QxD_dLYwI4YoPiC5rzr-iz8S66ipifGmzlANM6GpD8jAeDxALLmATw1Rdhh3AtPbQxf7RK6ax7yi21VMYWboNxo5hvxAnnEPf6E_Ia2c5_mxsc/w480-h640/0f286a0d-df98-4b1d-b8fa-3a770e06bfdd.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The wild garlic sourdough was interesting and had a bit of complexity to it, but the garlic aftertaste didn’t lend itself well to ..well..eating an entire loaf of sourdough in one weekend. So, I think I would even prefer the Tesco olive sourdough to this. Yes. A GROCERY STORE SOURDOUGH. IMAGINE.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><u><i>Fitness:</i></u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><u><i><br /></i></u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This month, I reached the 3km milestone with my running, so I’m just working on slowly increasing mileage, as always. It seems to be helping with the neck and shoulder pain, so it’s really encouraging! I’m hoping for 5km next month but I don’t want to get greedy.. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><u>March Challenge:</u></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Okay, let's end this on a bitter note. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Here’s something to remember if you ever embark on a diet: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. If you can tolerate wheat/gluten/sugar/dairy/whatever, don’t go ‘challenging’ yourself to just…not eat them. Everything in moderation should be the first idea you implement, and restricting things just to see if you can is a massive waste of time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This month, I decided to cut out sugar and dairy. Neither were causing me any discernible issues, but I thought <i>What if I feel better than I do now</i>, <i>and I realize that all this time I was allergic to either of them?</i> I also wanted to break the hold that my sugar addiction has on me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Legitimate idea but not a fun month at all. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I bought a few sugar-free products to soften the blow…</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicD09z_AM8dJpmjRWHW5vN725c6vMuNPZMe68Dc2ebfJJkOPvL6bIIQ2gzVZB_ynItcANJnHrRA4GeB_ArF8QHI4O6nz3bRsHczdGa3OYKRFlHKY1TwdB2bOmbQP89Gz2H-QpxuUfjmzs/s1264/IMG_2717.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1264" data-original-width="1194" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicD09z_AM8dJpmjRWHW5vN725c6vMuNPZMe68Dc2ebfJJkOPvL6bIIQ2gzVZB_ynItcANJnHrRA4GeB_ArF8QHI4O6nz3bRsHczdGa3OYKRFlHKY1TwdB2bOmbQP89Gz2H-QpxuUfjmzs/w604-h640/IMG_2717.JPG" width="604" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>These tasted great once baked in a zucchini loaf or banana bread!</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4UWmeqIL7j-LnScvIf6GIZMlNwcSvg9zh_HJgvkKdxqygkU7-UXrvwc855RCIe1tjRr_HjrEOXZuf56lZiteIDZsuDQHeJIs1MKIrCesYip2i5pTgefJC7Mcr_Xvu65KbTpoM7CVJyw/s1306/IMG_2721.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1306" data-original-width="1194" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4UWmeqIL7j-LnScvIf6GIZMlNwcSvg9zh_HJgvkKdxqygkU7-UXrvwc855RCIe1tjRr_HjrEOXZuf56lZiteIDZsuDQHeJIs1MKIrCesYip2i5pTgefJC7Mcr_Xvu65KbTpoM7CVJyw/w586-h640/IMG_2721.JPG" width="586" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I wouldn't recommend these chocolate bars. Both had the texture of candle wax and had that awful stevia after-taste</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">…but the cravings never went away. Ever.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I alternated between sugar-free chocolate which made my stomach turn, fruits, and just crisps or some other sugar-free snack after dinner. It sucked. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Worse yet was cutting out dairy. I didn’t care about not having cheese because I don’t eat much cheese anyway, and I found breakfast was manageable without the usual sort of morning dairy you’d have, like yogurt or cottage cheese. What really got me, though, was the coffee. I bought oat milk and coconut milk to try as creamers…yuck. The oat milk was okay for a few days, but I quickly got so sick of it because the taste is quite specific and not versatile at all. I then tried the coconut milk, but that was much worse, with a gritty aftertaste. I switched to just black coffees for the rest of the month, which did not taste good at all and just made me miserable. I never want to do this again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Anyway, lessons learned: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">1. Everything in moderation is better than being sad and depriving yourself (if you don't have to)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">2. Don’t make yourself miserable in a pandemic.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxwXJNwVFuCBvVdPjBBPisSUI_1ToVyZzVJIqNasG5lLkLV2PWx4Qpj5fwPRjW4vgTfARy5TovJGOOnYvKeieGpRK3kR0JIQJCaA9gZjC2v2bLTEPjekUXVFQSErB4ESj646sH3_W4s_E/s756/IMG_7917.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="756" data-original-width="637" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxwXJNwVFuCBvVdPjBBPisSUI_1ToVyZzVJIqNasG5lLkLV2PWx4Qpj5fwPRjW4vgTfARy5TovJGOOnYvKeieGpRK3kR0JIQJCaA9gZjC2v2bLTEPjekUXVFQSErB4ESj646sH3_W4s_E/w540-h640/IMG_7917.PNG" width="540" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div></div></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-86233630563544141602021-03-18T13:49:00.006-04:002021-03-18T13:49:54.437-04:00Washing Cashmere Like a Boss<p>Okay. I’m not one of those pretentious people who only eat organic, drink champagne, and brush their teeth every day.</p><p>I do, however, love cashmere. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYpEwoQL6Y8LBFjM0TnqAADHNUzniue2Ma2dY3bXe8MJtS-hYsKWGmZlvXsM8ztQKpeC_6IXS785T_1FK3XE_KrlCy-gODEyXNbxr4RVs3_KmDd6eu55WLFEAdfN0lPkUotXMl8FEBs0/s1600/PHOTO-2021-03-01-11-13-07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYpEwoQL6Y8LBFjM0TnqAADHNUzniue2Ma2dY3bXe8MJtS-hYsKWGmZlvXsM8ztQKpeC_6IXS785T_1FK3XE_KrlCy-gODEyXNbxr4RVs3_KmDd6eu55WLFEAdfN0lPkUotXMl8FEBs0/w480-h640/PHOTO-2021-03-01-11-13-07.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>I’ve slowly been cultivating a collection of sweaters, and have recently even invested in a pair of cashmere lounge pants. I don’t yet know how to wear them, in the sense of like do I have to stay in bed all day/do I need to re-upholster my chairs in baby skin/can the air be normal or should I order some new air from Goop etc. But…when I figure out how to do these pants justice, I will unfold them from their drawer, and try them on for the first time. </p><p><br /></p><p>I do brush my teeth. I was kidding.</p><p><br /></p><p>Anyway, I love the softness of cashmere, how nicely it fits, how throughout the day, it kinda gives you a shy hug like “is it okay that I’m still on you?” And how, instantly, you’re the Dom, and life is good. I’ve had a couple of coffees, and this How To Wash Your Cashmere post is getting weird - but the coffee was homemade, so see? Unpretentious.</p><p><br /></p><p>Anyway, the thing with cashmere is that it’s DRY CLEAN ONLY and if you even mention washing it to anyone, they look at you like you’re about to paint a Ferrari with hot diarrhea. So, I don’t mention it anymore, and even if I did, I wouldn’t admit to talking about washing my sweater at a party. But here’s the thing: I’ve tried dry cleaning it. I took all of my cashmere sweaters to the dry cleaners in Dublin and not only was the dry cleaner man super rude, calling me “one of those” for cutting off the care instructions tag (which actually I didn’t! Which is even weirder because I bought the sweater new but without care tags and now I’m wondering if I bought a sweater that had previously been shoplifted but put back on the store shelf? Like is that a thing? Someone DM me). </p><p>So not only was he rude, but when I picked up my sweaters again, the sleeves had shrunk a bit and it smelled like an orphanage. I aired them out, conditioned them, and they were good as new, but having spent 100 Euros on them, I wasn’t about that life. Incidentally, I had also taken a cashmere-blend coat to the dry cleaners a few weeks prior, and it came back with its pockets filled with dry cleaner soap, which started out funny in a “haha no one on this bus knows I’m knuckle deep in toxic powder” but then became a bit annoying. So, all in all, my experience with professional cleaning has led me to the only thing I could think of: trying desperately never to sweat in any of my cashmere pieces.</p><p>Fast forward to a couple of years later. Here I am, inevitably having sweat on numerous occasions (I have raging anxiety), and needing to freshen up my cashmere sweaters once again. Well, this time, I would like to tell you that yes, you can wash your damn cashmere!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOlwpkhDFLxcaloh2gOwSA3j0SncJsw_USn43kSI4GW8OLcYwED4YCNfa2VNpG7Um7BnnEtDsLoGfU4XLKxIQWa6SmD8Ne_IAGzDmuVYDvvKOPXVFAWwZH3TlOTlmnQ-Yv0LiSgiyj9Q/s1600/852cd429-30ed-494e-80da-1d6d1b4a41cb.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOlwpkhDFLxcaloh2gOwSA3j0SncJsw_USn43kSI4GW8OLcYwED4YCNfa2VNpG7Um7BnnEtDsLoGfU4XLKxIQWa6SmD8Ne_IAGzDmuVYDvvKOPXVFAWwZH3TlOTlmnQ-Yv0LiSgiyj9Q/w480-h640/852cd429-30ed-494e-80da-1d6d1b4a41cb.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><p>To do this, I first called my mom, because she is Russian, and in Russia, you do everything yourself. I asked her how she washes her cashmere, and she explained it so simply that honestly I feel like an idiot for ever following any other instructions. So here’s what you do:</p><p>You soak your cashmere sweater with a bit of shampoo, in lukewarm water. Soak it for about 30 minutes, then very gently squeeze the parts you think need freshening up, then very gently rinse in water of the SAME temperature - THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT - then squeeze gently to get as much of the water out. Keyword: gentle. Then, lay flat to dry over a towel to preserve their shape and absorb the remaining moisture from them. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAtVwM7YXBX6Eba8AZThXmmPSK6qQZsUNXJMm1nRJkLyECKKrm5zoHjixH2xuuxpYrWLNVnqZAi4CCjLl10H2ObEu_eVHnNgTsGiqUUn0mzxyhFdnZgRHuJ3keWusyD0-J8MJnxxwDHY/s1600/c960c1f1-b4a9-4523-8aba-6e0d5141527d.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAtVwM7YXBX6Eba8AZThXmmPSK6qQZsUNXJMm1nRJkLyECKKrm5zoHjixH2xuuxpYrWLNVnqZAi4CCjLl10H2ObEu_eVHnNgTsGiqUUn0mzxyhFdnZgRHuJ3keWusyD0-J8MJnxxwDHY/w480-h640/c960c1f1-b4a9-4523-8aba-6e0d5141527d.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><div>Whatever you do, do not change the temperature of the water between the washing and the rinsing! This is what will make your sweater shrink, if anything. Just be very gentle with it, and make sure to flatten out any wrinkles as it dries. That’s all there is to it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJAm0eTj8NmZ_9_11rRCiY4mIOipdr3LQVg91hHg1kkseOO9wbcOCT2xUJTYiQguclsBtgOz6870TNcsVpXJVE4AEJ4qjqZA_P7smV09krSYtmtuIfOOsZMljEMVmn0p71YRm17T7qEU/s1600/e8777186-fa71-4b65-8770-619200f8cbaa.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJAm0eTj8NmZ_9_11rRCiY4mIOipdr3LQVg91hHg1kkseOO9wbcOCT2xUJTYiQguclsBtgOz6870TNcsVpXJVE4AEJ4qjqZA_P7smV09krSYtmtuIfOOsZMljEMVmn0p71YRm17T7qEU/w480-h640/e8777186-fa71-4b65-8770-619200f8cbaa.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Now, if like me, you happen to live near the sea, and your apartment has the humidity equivalent of an aquarium, it will take your sweater a very long time to dry, and you’ll have to have it somewhat near a heater, but not too close or you’ll shrink your garment awkwardly. </div><div><br /></div><div>But that’s pretty much it! Also, disclaimer: if it’s like a three trillion dollar piece, obviously don’t rely on this working for 100% of cashmere materials and do take extra care of it. This post is just for people with every day cashmere pieces and oh my god I sound like such a prick. </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg45ac1KwSgtoSKdeAe77xt-en3NA11aAx7NkjpTQcNajr0uDRFrcCp86FgQCFM9xm531tLQuqGzjvWY4Dab8327z31xju1r9Ncg7EAYk0vUl52W949MzQne6E7YQ9e6OQdmtuaguNS_h0/s1600/PHOTO-2021-03-01-11-13-08_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg45ac1KwSgtoSKdeAe77xt-en3NA11aAx7NkjpTQcNajr0uDRFrcCp86FgQCFM9xm531tLQuqGzjvWY4Dab8327z31xju1r9Ncg7EAYk0vUl52W949MzQne6E7YQ9e6OQdmtuaguNS_h0/w480-h640/PHOTO-2021-03-01-11-13-08_1.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-86075018725572481822021-03-01T08:48:00.001-05:002021-03-01T08:48:57.286-05:00February Roundup<p>February went by extremely fast, I failed miserably at baking, and still haven’t figured out the simplest thing I put on my goals for the month. Oh yeah, and also we had a fire.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxecwA_yVtz6X3wh_56v3NiVyYwP8o1Fs4_74oOCSfgwiCDV3R7_K2lzERPuzHsjeVlIWS2r0wBBVw6Sdh9UNulK9tvWas5vPUZOCRvYIyyHeUB3tbPsSJmTl1Qjz73MG1N_gxfQv7YHk/s2016/IMG_2679.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxecwA_yVtz6X3wh_56v3NiVyYwP8o1Fs4_74oOCSfgwiCDV3R7_K2lzERPuzHsjeVlIWS2r0wBBVw6Sdh9UNulK9tvWas5vPUZOCRvYIyyHeUB3tbPsSJmTl1Qjz73MG1N_gxfQv7YHk/w480-h640/IMG_2679.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><b><i><br /></i></b></p><p><b><i>Learning Something:</i></b></p><p>My goal for February was to finally learn how to portion and cook rice properly. When I cook it, it’s almost always a game of SAVE IT FROM BURNING! ADD MORE WATER OH NO IT IS SLUDGE. Followed by me having to open yet another OnlyFans account for ....rice...voyeurism...? </p><p>I read up on how to make it (the rice, not the account), and followed instructions closely, but I still overcooked it, and I still made too much. I don’t know. Accountability means being honest, and if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’ll ever figure this out. If I'm being really, really honest, I just despise making it and that is ultimately why I can't be fucked reading up on the intricacies of proper rice handling. However: while we are on the titillating topic of white rice: did you know it’s possible to cook sticky rice in the microwave AND without soaking? The texture isn’t as uniform, but it’s completely doable if you’re in a pinch. Google it! We made thai curries twice in February and I forgot to pre-soak it the second time, but with just a bit of boiled water, a lot of draining, and about 8 minutes in the microwave, it tasted nearly as great as the first one (pre-soaked properly).</p><p>Also, a good portion size for spaghetti is 175 grams. Double it if you’re having a bad day and need the extra carbs. </p><p>So, all in all, goal ..kinda..met?</p><p>After all the exhaustion and disappointed that comes with cooking rice, sometimes it's nice to just get one of those semi prepared meals delivered for a fancy night in. Below, a chateaubriand steak with cabbage and mash potatoes, from Brookwood. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzvCavN15Cp04smcJrTAYOOlVhafJv-fjzpR5YzNJuZNmMXWhcV5XhCSZwE_86gmsXBW8nvFsBdiao4ZsqVBsTU-bEf9_YG_a8drh6Rm8HwBe3UyjMZDE82jRzaQw8KmXfagRfPLxYM8A/s1600/IMG_2711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzvCavN15Cp04smcJrTAYOOlVhafJv-fjzpR5YzNJuZNmMXWhcV5XhCSZwE_86gmsXBW8nvFsBdiao4ZsqVBsTU-bEf9_YG_a8drh6Rm8HwBe3UyjMZDE82jRzaQw8KmXfagRfPLxYM8A/w480-h640/IMG_2711.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><b><i>Something Social:</i></b></p><p>Aside from catching up with friends, I wanted to do something that cast the social net a bit further this month, and couldn’t figure this one out, until my friend Sam gave me her +1 virtual ticket to a body positivity conference (!!). </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cfxW1TqyQlcs21Ltjl5ASjLBBzfbOqOwEPiLuCDupBKKw7_MhF7txKHRTfhNdvRtlqb-7y8pFql7Z5LrFd9oukNQm4Ljwmi226QsIakV_lCQpyipDmx2LZsgmkO750_MREz8JqgjX_s/s753/IMG_2715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="753" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cfxW1TqyQlcs21Ltjl5ASjLBBzfbOqOwEPiLuCDupBKKw7_MhF7txKHRTfhNdvRtlqb-7y8pFql7Z5LrFd9oukNQm4Ljwmi226QsIakV_lCQpyipDmx2LZsgmkO750_MREz8JqgjX_s/w544-h640/IMG_2715.jpg" width="544" /></a></div><p>The BodCon was a one day live virtual conference featuring body-positive speakers only some of whom I’ve heard of before, and while it left me feeling inspired and a tad more confident, it also left me questioning a few things, none of which I could write about on this woke canvas we’ve been thrust upon, but which I’d love to discuss if you’d like to message me about it. </p><p>Randomly, a few days later, I found this quote by one of my favourite comedians, Amy Schumer. It comes from a powerful speech she made in 2014, at the Gloria Awards and Gala. If you take a moment to find it and read it in full, chances are you’ll see yourself in at least part of it.</p><p>“I Say if I'm Beautiful. I Say if I'm Strong. You Will Not Determine My Story.”</p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONcayYz51sCAa0nHUvduthJp0pguGMN7YxtXtQZGH-5-ULTsiZSJXE4MyQ_-Wil0aLeqDcQ7twarWOM-9FfZpHBNyEDaNrWJTZqwyKV6BjrgAD0oYleuqaJrIfsY5B-iUAvy4wlTp7Rw/s1024/56b29c5dec6e39197e3d5473d3650184cd-16-Amy-Schumer-book-cover.2x.rsocial.w600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="537" data-original-width="1024" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONcayYz51sCAa0nHUvduthJp0pguGMN7YxtXtQZGH-5-ULTsiZSJXE4MyQ_-Wil0aLeqDcQ7twarWOM-9FfZpHBNyEDaNrWJTZqwyKV6BjrgAD0oYleuqaJrIfsY5B-iUAvy4wlTp7Rw/w640-h336/56b29c5dec6e39197e3d5473d3650184cd-16-Amy-Schumer-book-cover.2x.rsocial.w600.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><div>I’ve been thinking about it ever since, and it is perhaps more powerful than what I heard in that conference. This is as much a ‘social’ issue as it is one tied to body image and self love. Why do we leave our worth, our value to be evaluated by anyone other than us? Inherently, we look to others for social cues and validation. But how much toxicity does it take to claim that one fundamental decision back for ourselves? </div><div><br /></div><div>Imagine standing in front of the mirror in a bikini thinking, <i>I'm so nervous..I hope I think I'm hot...</i></div><div><br /></div><div>and then being like <i>Oh wow, I am!</i> and that is literally that. That's all. No one else's opinion matters.</div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div><div><b><i>Something Productive:</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>I wanted to read a book in hard copy rather than listen to one like I’ve been doing in past months, and luckily, I had a really funny one that Jeff gave me: <i>Shit, Actually</i> by Lindy West. If you haven’t yet read her hilarious essay on why <i>Love, Actually</i> was absolute crap definitely do so, and then read and watch <i>Shrill</i> (both the book and show). Lindy West is a phenomenal writer, and, as someone who doesn’t laugh at everything, I was convulsing in laughing fits reading <i>Shit, Actually</i>. It starts off with a critical synopsis of <i>The Fugitive</i>, and moves on to a thorough analysis of why other films are absolute garbage, and I don’t want to spoil it for you but it is just so, so funny. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>Also, I don't know if you consider The Miracle Of Life productive, but in December, just after the holidays, I bought a little box of crocus bulbs that came in tiny vases. The box said they're meant to be grown in water, but the bulbs looked dead and the box was reduced to 40 cents. I bought them and filled the vases with water, and nothing happened. Nothing happened for weeks, and I considered throwing them all out because they actually looked kinda creepy just soaking there, on my windowsill. Until one day, a tiny green sprout came out of one them. The second bulb soon followed, but the third remained lifeless. I thought about throwing it out again, but then I got distracted by a bird whose face looked like that of an adult man, and then, before I knew it, all three flowers emerged!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibL0IU5tq562SbZk6NlebcWA00gH4nzjjaPba1wVrrTMHApaVKsazlI_W0cCibAsjlmiz6pWi8fIt23Ycl8ZMJHCHFMJryM3zarrVfrqxoeMDNkQiEZ_ejM-07kcJ-cM_CJ_B2LQHrG2M/s2016/Facetune_18-02-2021-09-11-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibL0IU5tq562SbZk6NlebcWA00gH4nzjjaPba1wVrrTMHApaVKsazlI_W0cCibAsjlmiz6pWi8fIt23Ycl8ZMJHCHFMJryM3zarrVfrqxoeMDNkQiEZ_ejM-07kcJ-cM_CJ_B2LQHrG2M/w480-h640/Facetune_18-02-2021-09-11-27.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicWOAaJrWG3m_fcDkK5n4L58UWIhdhb4mpxDBybw2MfgUFh5Mk3HHrkk5AXpiVBgMuTzS2AT6IFjAquWek4spq8D0ybq3vDBf3lqMuMJU9i_f_Nhw13eEvamw5hM0yuFPqOvMSn9y2inI/s2016/IMG_2621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicWOAaJrWG3m_fcDkK5n4L58UWIhdhb4mpxDBybw2MfgUFh5Mk3HHrkk5AXpiVBgMuTzS2AT6IFjAquWek4spq8D0ybq3vDBf3lqMuMJU9i_f_Nhw13eEvamw5hM0yuFPqOvMSn9y2inI/w640-h480/IMG_2621.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>The third one remained a bud (not like in a Canadian way lol) while the purple and white one blossomed. I didn't realize they have such short lifespans - they died within days. But then, the third one caught up to the others and it was a perfect hybrid of the purple and white (pictured at the top of this blog as well):</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNx5rgNW4Of5bt2jWoZ-Jkx1FTIk833beo8169NA5V91CbN_91TzQ5xjonoeSJreFVjDd0lcR5ZRQIO_31wumc5mLQL6IJ6PUwsr8QaFD8NodtDYy7NxzN2CM-VrDXGZdETBxF5yWr1Y/s2016/IMG_2679.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNx5rgNW4Of5bt2jWoZ-Jkx1FTIk833beo8169NA5V91CbN_91TzQ5xjonoeSJreFVjDd0lcR5ZRQIO_31wumc5mLQL6IJ6PUwsr8QaFD8NodtDYy7NxzN2CM-VrDXGZdETBxF5yWr1Y/w480-h640/IMG_2679.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><div><b><i>Something Caring:</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>Well, it was Valentine’s Day, and my caring deed was to send a card to my family weeks ahead of time. It got there, and I think they liked it (??) but I still felt unfulfilled.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then, my dad texted me that he needed tech support.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh boy.</div><div><br /></div><div>A two-hour-long phone call later, I had helped him reset his eleventh password of the year, answered fifty Hotmail security questions, reset his Skype, and subscribed him to his favourite Youtube vlogger. </div><div>We laughed, we cried, I had an anxiety attack. </div><div><br /></div><div>Good deed done, once again. </div></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMuRB2GeRhjJHwPpDNbeQkqlBUgcL3s-StMYkJ_ho3UwnlVOb8ZcIZdt3o8AqpqWZAGowCLt3CVQUTmvhT2HFr5-dnMLbO4AZuTM-jNhrEQOF3if4T1paIUOs8jlQvqCV3b-SF0dMNtA/s1600/IMG_2713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMuRB2GeRhjJHwPpDNbeQkqlBUgcL3s-StMYkJ_ho3UwnlVOb8ZcIZdt3o8AqpqWZAGowCLt3CVQUTmvhT2HFr5-dnMLbO4AZuTM-jNhrEQOF3if4T1paIUOs8jlQvqCV3b-SF0dMNtA/w480-h640/IMG_2713.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As the last of my v-day cooking fail-a-thon burn slowly heals, I have fond memories of the exploded romantic cracker, and this very wholesome joke that came out of it..</td></tr></tbody></table><b><i><br /></i></b><div><div><b><i>Something New:</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>The plan for this month was to go somewhere really nice, but then the police decided that people shouldn’t go walking outside in nice places because that’s how they’ll spread Covid, so they blocked off nice places and only allow us to walk in regular places because then we won’t spread Covid.</div><div><br /></div><div>So instead, we walked to a new coffee place that opened in a GAA (Gaelic football) field, called Bold & Brass Coffee. It was a sunny day, and with the palm trees swaying in the wind, it almost felt like we were on a tropical vacation.</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzV4DK9wZtAFPuFi8dZroX0d3zMd0vh4PLDveCh_TnUvaYprumZxp1rq1HioqzINVpWievqR2zzNe2YFguMuCgKfcrmWylaIe723Teh_t0v4qLwihGuNvC228H758x8xoMoAbo9bWuRg/s1600/a77553d1-e991-4ebf-a6ee-7bc2bf9d950c.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzV4DK9wZtAFPuFi8dZroX0d3zMd0vh4PLDveCh_TnUvaYprumZxp1rq1HioqzINVpWievqR2zzNe2YFguMuCgKfcrmWylaIe723Teh_t0v4qLwihGuNvC228H758x8xoMoAbo9bWuRg/w480-h640/a77553d1-e991-4ebf-a6ee-7bc2bf9d950c.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbK3zdNFw_vEf3JWSDwSGfswvMrd7rhghyC8TeqHRmELqDswVb7J0RthRRiMK_RMvp8-tU9zW_iJTC66dAtK2i7FTSbBe4djRsPHmexgNm6K1jbkAFxz2JKwqNOWGZK2i3NdYYxiEz7k/s2016/IMG_2595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbK3zdNFw_vEf3JWSDwSGfswvMrd7rhghyC8TeqHRmELqDswVb7J0RthRRiMK_RMvp8-tU9zW_iJTC66dAtK2i7FTSbBe4djRsPHmexgNm6K1jbkAFxz2JKwqNOWGZK2i3NdYYxiEz7k/w480-h640/IMG_2595.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirHzxk8OL-BL7fq9x5OrXyQH3QqVs7Bzw3-mtagFL36OKtAz7DRymfjTHAL2Qn1sVShNvRBRA3L17ProFViAa2ZZsdQAvsweSdZqtEitQRBC3dXESkwW53eWQMIsO_E7muEp1SnoNFUZI/s1600/528ee432-667c-4e51-a442-e6469effbdaf.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirHzxk8OL-BL7fq9x5OrXyQH3QqVs7Bzw3-mtagFL36OKtAz7DRymfjTHAL2Qn1sVShNvRBRA3L17ProFViAa2ZZsdQAvsweSdZqtEitQRBC3dXESkwW53eWQMIsO_E7muEp1SnoNFUZI/w480-h640/528ee432-667c-4e51-a442-e6469effbdaf.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I got an Americano, and it had the depth, flavour, and richness I was hoping for. I hate an acidic, ‘grey’ tasting Americano. Jeff’s flat white was smooth (though not as smooth as the ones in Lotts and Co - go there!!) and overall, I would absolutely recommend the coffee cart if you’re in the Clontarf area - certainly above Casa Pasta, any day! Sorry not sorry.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi79GIetaYmyIBphyN3sr3ZqvAcDj52klqNJCHfNmtoA0fdTHn1baTBFDw7NiEzDlv5pyG85xuRPkO5GoTwqljE6CywQPgfyrJYyUQYL234YWssVAG9dWParO_Vo13h_ZKrUygNmmpM038/s1600/53760291-b2f7-43d2-a593-b4b4103b9eb3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi79GIetaYmyIBphyN3sr3ZqvAcDj52klqNJCHfNmtoA0fdTHn1baTBFDw7NiEzDlv5pyG85xuRPkO5GoTwqljE6CywQPgfyrJYyUQYL234YWssVAG9dWParO_Vo13h_ZKrUygNmmpM038/w480-h640/53760291-b2f7-43d2-a593-b4b4103b9eb3.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The coffee cart is so tiny, you'd never think it's behind this wall!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdpFncR2Bp2vs5JzPp8JTscNBKkA0BlEgFRWgtGdsAQJfy9ZcTj1Thg9_j8q6s6or0p3zvpTyrf2XJdZL69ZLWCybYQs9XCHcYe30VAOJqWVM3Wl7G4g8SpDiw3z2yl_3zPMyEMzz8Fo/s2016/IMG_2596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdpFncR2Bp2vs5JzPp8JTscNBKkA0BlEgFRWgtGdsAQJfy9ZcTj1Thg9_j8q6s6or0p3zvpTyrf2XJdZL69ZLWCybYQs9XCHcYe30VAOJqWVM3Wl7G4g8SpDiw3z2yl_3zPMyEMzz8Fo/w480-h640/IMG_2596.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><b><i>Something Creative:</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>One of my favourite things of all time is creating stupid videos. The first one I ever made was a mock infomercial about a basic old light switch. It was very crudely done and featured my sister and I, and at the time, we thought it would win a Youtube makeup vlogger’s makeup contest, but upon further thought, I don’t know how I ever could’ve thought a video where I back-hand my sister for spilling grape juice would ever make it anywhere, really. I still watch it from time to time, and despite us not winning, it was truly a work of art. </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTjAW5du4K9B4qCMVi8dXWD2ga2lDHdlRxFYniw6qXyE4lLxVCTOxVmPrxAPsFY4_oM1JUMPItc1ior5kQs8PaQodHcypVAzGbQjkEHwif15WpoMJtvQPLgJQII2m3Pdlpy1_9KEjNDHw/s2048/Screen+Shot+2021-03-01+at+1.26.57+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1330" data-original-width="2048" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTjAW5du4K9B4qCMVi8dXWD2ga2lDHdlRxFYniw6qXyE4lLxVCTOxVmPrxAPsFY4_oM1JUMPItc1ior5kQs8PaQodHcypVAzGbQjkEHwif15WpoMJtvQPLgJQII2m3Pdlpy1_9KEjNDHw/w400-h260/Screen+Shot+2021-03-01+at+1.26.57+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbfeuv3ASqY" target="_blank">Here it is.</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>A short while later, I made a video about shoes, and came insanely close to winning a trip to Paris with Metro newspaper. My video was judged by Jonas Åkerlund who directed some Lady Gaga videos, but ultimately the guy who won was a guy who submitted a video he had had on his Youtube channel for years. It killed me to be one of the two remaining competitors and to lose to someone who cheated and clearly broke one of the official rules, but say la vee, as they say in France. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KDUgsZdK54zdK7v97TV8JQmzyJ9NMX_yitjBAvrJhAPR6VPSNzOVfvQp82KQ5N4mPzPog3zPuqNqwdPbqwmBxLpE-tHUywHjR42aTYRKt3e0T1oUza4NakvT7e1HltGU4zCY-pjg8D8/s2048/Screen+Shot+2021-03-01+at+1.28.15+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1526" data-original-width="2048" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KDUgsZdK54zdK7v97TV8JQmzyJ9NMX_yitjBAvrJhAPR6VPSNzOVfvQp82KQ5N4mPzPog3zPuqNqwdPbqwmBxLpE-tHUywHjR42aTYRKt3e0T1oUza4NakvT7e1HltGU4zCY-pjg8D8/w400-h297/Screen+Shot+2021-03-01+at+1.28.15+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57f0bsSjyLU&t=20s" target="_blank">This was my video. </a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div>Anyway, then a couple years ago, I spent the last of my savings on a MacBook Pro.</div><div><br /></div><div>I used it to make a video about wrestlers who forget to turn off their immersion at home. (Bit of Irish humour for ye)</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifX4i1TBbZ7MgvIfLl_ojlMqUJBkDexOlRqD3-bTNHBOlhnObdChFcyqiEwxcQ6_dQ8Hr20yXKLHJaWZTqIBNifaph2yfgr485xLYhLM8i0KUWP6mBFL7fbHLb1udDwtWqobyNWApE8Bk/s2048/Screen+Shot+2021-03-01+at+1.29.14+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1129" data-original-width="2048" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifX4i1TBbZ7MgvIfLl_ojlMqUJBkDexOlRqD3-bTNHBOlhnObdChFcyqiEwxcQ6_dQ8Hr20yXKLHJaWZTqIBNifaph2yfgr485xLYhLM8i0KUWP6mBFL7fbHLb1udDwtWqobyNWApE8Bk/w400-h220/Screen+Shot+2021-03-01+at+1.29.14+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://studio.youtube.com/video/2caSX0iCPOo/analytics/tab-overview/period-default" target="_blank">This is it. </a></div><div><br /></div><div>Clearly, I would’ve thrived just as deeply with Windows 95. </div></div><div><br /></div><div><div>Then, I made a video about being on staycation last spring. It made a lot of people smile, and that is undoubtedly the only thing I care about when I expose my friends and loved ones to these stupid ideas. (Not building on or showcasing my talent in cinematography).</div><div><br /></div><div>Then, this year, I made my most horrid work yet: a valentine’s day video about a toy airplane that turns out to be a huge, huge mistake. </div><div><br /></div><div>That last abomination was my creative ‘something’ for the month.</div></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-r1xJEI-iVQV3UYUXJg3iiF3ps-B_YLdFSOzIV8_6INEVAwUhdwpLz2z3MnVOGDthSUH_w8GrF_sLV6Pep-2y-C3L82LolAHb6GI_dqG2AvGLMwEn9QpEsid83rwby453pwLs0FjMJGQ/s1600/a0fa10e9-09df-488a-86c4-47f8d6d28770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-r1xJEI-iVQV3UYUXJg3iiF3ps-B_YLdFSOzIV8_6INEVAwUhdwpLz2z3MnVOGDthSUH_w8GrF_sLV6Pep-2y-C3L82LolAHb6GI_dqG2AvGLMwEn9QpEsid83rwby453pwLs0FjMJGQ/w640-h480/a0fa10e9-09df-488a-86c4-47f8d6d28770.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A takeaway pint of Heineken on the strand in the February sunshine</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><b><i>Fitness:</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>This month I ran my first full kilometre since starting back running. The fitness challenge for this month and so many to follow, will be to increase my mileage very slowly and with all the patience I can muster. Also, I think I’m going to sign up for the Ottawa Army Run (virtual) in September. To go from this month’s 1km to September’s 21km will be challenging, and I am so excited to have officially started my long and careful journey.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b><i>February Challenge:</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>I gave myself a goal of choosing a new nutritional approach, researching it, and putting together a meal plan that I could implement in March. This is not a very entertaining read, but I will say that it has led me to decide on trying at least 30 days dairy and sugar-free. This won’t be a purist approach like my 30 Day Raw Diet (<a href="http://oflittlemy.blogspot.com/2012/01/raw-beginnings.html" target="_blank">blog post about it here</a>) because there will be natural sweeteners involved, but I think it will still be a huge change from how I eat now, so I’m looking forward to gagging on a lovely almond milk coffee now and then. Granted February's challenge wasn’t extreme, I wanted to ease into the idea and planning it has made the big March ordeal something I look forward to.</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY0l7fOxZzL-aXaXmLhvozEAIUfDoHi_G4-2RDVGCinWeFyH7Qz0GHD1BzakOAQUvXPNOZOd8ZFqBRuYoKtrnyF5qO7nEAkwGxgwLs5GqAp13qXJN3tghCBYHKCH4aHDCxqPd3mGC6Svs/s1600/IMG_2710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY0l7fOxZzL-aXaXmLhvozEAIUfDoHi_G4-2RDVGCinWeFyH7Qz0GHD1BzakOAQUvXPNOZOd8ZFqBRuYoKtrnyF5qO7nEAkwGxgwLs5GqAp13qXJN3tghCBYHKCH4aHDCxqPd3mGC6Svs/w480-h640/IMG_2710.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-13254482144282145702021-02-16T09:21:00.002-05:002021-02-16T09:22:20.049-05:00A Valentine's Day Food Massacre<p>Valentine’s Day: a day losers like to say is “manufactured” and “forces us to be romantic when we’d rather be romantic every other day of the year” (usually said by people who do zero romantic things the rest of the year as well! Yay!)</p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2EekTUvq9fs0kADIbNG8zKjd-dPs96oV0ZRwNzoN99wU2giiE-aXZpDsj1kBab8_NJjSwB2X7rjlSEVypg0L7q2LZGhdxbkLg0vKeVyqxM0caj-fMnp5rYiQJu7qV4WidfGxHA_sVj6o/s836/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-33-28.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="836" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2EekTUvq9fs0kADIbNG8zKjd-dPs96oV0ZRwNzoN99wU2giiE-aXZpDsj1kBab8_NJjSwB2X7rjlSEVypg0L7q2LZGhdxbkLg0vKeVyqxM0caj-fMnp5rYiQJu7qV4WidfGxHA_sVj6o/w490-h640/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-33-28.JPG" width="490" /></a></div><br /><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><br /></p><p>I’ve always loved it because it doesn’t try to be trendy, sexy, or subtle. Instead, it encourages neon pink frosting on everything, the concept of asking someone to be your valentine (while I’m pretty sure no one actually knows what that means although I’ve always thought of it as a hybrid of ‘date’ and ‘sacrifice to cupid’) (huh?), and shopping for toy gorillas that dance to <i>Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love</i>, usually found at drugstores, next to the paracetamol and diarrhea medication. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCTeOkjX7F6vd8r-q3Ijer1n-F-X_meorsz551QQ_KM88BodspKhqvKd8IlelpFpWgqDVL7_enLM-WD1IhCMJ_-W_FjquvzZCwdd-vyA-cFZNQMD9EYLu6YV0pXh0SBQhBSpg3406MLpE/s814/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-31-37.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="814" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCTeOkjX7F6vd8r-q3Ijer1n-F-X_meorsz551QQ_KM88BodspKhqvKd8IlelpFpWgqDVL7_enLM-WD1IhCMJ_-W_FjquvzZCwdd-vyA-cFZNQMD9EYLu6YV0pXh0SBQhBSpg3406MLpE/w504-h640/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-31-37.JPG" width="504" /></a></div><br /><p>I love it, I love planning for it, and this year, with so much more time on my hands, I decided to really get down to every last detail, for a day that should have been absolutely perfect.</p><p><br /></p><p>And then, it absolutely wasn’t.</p><p><br /></p><p>February 14th started as most days in Ireland: with pouring rain thrown from the sky with determination to ruin any last bit of hope for going outside. Step One in our fun-filled day of activities was to watch a Valentine’s Hallmark movie, and to bake our brunch while the meticulously-crafted Hallmark storyline of <i>business-woman-learns-true-value-of-farmwork</i> would unfold. However, due to the rain somehow affecting The Concept of The Internet, we couldn’t stream nor download our movie. So, we watched our usual obsession, <i>Married at First Sight</i>, instead. If you’re in the market for a show that makes you give up on love, this is the one. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaF-IVQ8aOWaf22MOKehT0KhHMUfpdb6_2CAnZ20y2R9SoFB7j7_jnE2yAnDILYByAkJqJI5q_N7Tg8HwkYAwve4sT0hq56vOAgjUahYszm3MPLyLVW82fDdKXIh3RQtbWvsbx2bTqK0g/s1600/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-39-02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaF-IVQ8aOWaf22MOKehT0KhHMUfpdb6_2CAnZ20y2R9SoFB7j7_jnE2yAnDILYByAkJqJI5q_N7Tg8HwkYAwve4sT0hq56vOAgjUahYszm3MPLyLVW82fDdKXIh3RQtbWvsbx2bTqK0g/w480-h640/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-39-02.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>Brunch was a no-brainer. Jeff loves blueberries, and I, being a very thoughtful person, found a foolproof recipe for baked blueberry French toast, topped with crispy bacon. Per the instructions, I prepared the French toast the night before, and popped it in the oven in the morning “until blueberries burst”. I baked it the full time, but the berries weren’t bursting. I got mad. I put the French toast on the top rack and spun the oven wheel angrily until it was on Broil. The bread burned. The blueberries remained intact. I got more mad. I cooked the bacon but it wasn’t crispy. I gave up. I took the French toast out of the oven and topped it with the rashers which, to be completely, unapologetically honest, looked like wet little dog dicks. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBi3TgAXHU-b7xAt5F2x-QB8haogjAhxa0Oys59_-OQ-PBifn6KHAb-XgWg_9lLaYZIN2Pp951HypgRucjXtoCNO8JOB9cC1DkAVL4Y6Z0KmY-lqNRZ4btKcqg305cGdI37OKEZ0no_g/s823/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-33-48.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="823" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBi3TgAXHU-b7xAt5F2x-QB8haogjAhxa0Oys59_-OQ-PBifn6KHAb-XgWg_9lLaYZIN2Pp951HypgRucjXtoCNO8JOB9cC1DkAVL4Y6Z0KmY-lqNRZ4btKcqg305cGdI37OKEZ0no_g/w498-h640/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-33-48.JPG" width="498" /></a></div><br /><p>Altogether, brunch looked and tasted like barbecued vomit. The eggs hadn’t properly cooked in the bread, and floated freely under our toast in blueberry-dyed chunks. The bread itself was gooey. Jeff did his nice guy thing where he says “it’s alright!” But that actually annoyed me more because the least he could do was look me in the eye and tell me what a disappointment I was.</p><p>Surprisingly, that was all it took to put me in a horrible mood. I’ve never messed up breakfast before, and ON VALENTINE’S DAY?!</p><p>So we started drinking, and things were good again.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1wxJxJcBYAr4XbyVPzSzS1lm0ySrr97L019e7hjfRxUk0wnVlRTZqKIvskdGcvEbEilWDW44gNCXbGiZ1TymaapeLDemZ3HM9xcfmTZPzaTFeTwjgeWlz9wK-NeIG_ljX7aI6gogdrY/s1600/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-38-36.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1wxJxJcBYAr4XbyVPzSzS1lm0ySrr97L019e7hjfRxUk0wnVlRTZqKIvskdGcvEbEilWDW44gNCXbGiZ1TymaapeLDemZ3HM9xcfmTZPzaTFeTwjgeWlz9wK-NeIG_ljX7aI6gogdrY/w480-h640/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-38-36.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>Then, these roses arrived. I have never seen roses of this colour before. They are this shade of lavender that has no warmth to it which makes them look so unique, and they’re absolutely stunning. Jeff did an amazing job picking them out. He also gave me another bouquet of red roses the day before, so I’m incredibly spoiled, and he’s the sweetest person in the world.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibW9bbc7hgv8qtYiXFipIx_GFMWGliFH2Xrz3oKWwT5UAluyTn3SS60Cc2Vr4pui9MqTswPTKCzSQYKNPLveJilV1X9E9i3X08OPPLdYiJ8zmOIgZGtklBeFhnHIKAsQw-wbIATmTN_1g/s1600/3220d5f7-36f6-4c3b-b30b-6e1748fb6930+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibW9bbc7hgv8qtYiXFipIx_GFMWGliFH2Xrz3oKWwT5UAluyTn3SS60Cc2Vr4pui9MqTswPTKCzSQYKNPLveJilV1X9E9i3X08OPPLdYiJ8zmOIgZGtklBeFhnHIKAsQw-wbIATmTN_1g/w480-h640/3220d5f7-36f6-4c3b-b30b-6e1748fb6930+2.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A few drunken coffees and four national anthems played for us by Alexa later, I Skyped my mom and Val, and they, as always, gave me such beautiful, thoughtful, girly Valentine’s day presents, which made me miss them even more. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But then, the rain stopped, revealing the most gorgeous cotton candy pink sky. There was work to be done…we had a video to shoot. Part Three of our Valentine’s Day Spectacular was incorporating a styrofoam airplane we had into a Valentine’s Day film. I’ve been dying to fly this plane for weeks, and I’m so glad we finally took it out on the strand, except Jeff flew it into traffic and things got scary for a moment. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-gh5CTGSyY6mukHX6KvemKvIGdVHbzkTRw_bkz_uu27vcdfvrDYTu6JJMhPrf0uKohhxFVaUhZDMCkKAbW4JYIb2Ph2AebHlBNJ-Jk8Z1bjvaxZRaMU0H9pvSMMA57-2rPQgBmeDGrcM/s768/IMG_2568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="618" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-gh5CTGSyY6mukHX6KvemKvIGdVHbzkTRw_bkz_uu27vcdfvrDYTu6JJMhPrf0uKohhxFVaUhZDMCkKAbW4JYIb2Ph2AebHlBNJ-Jk8Z1bjvaxZRaMU0H9pvSMMA57-2rPQgBmeDGrcM/w516-h640/IMG_2568.jpg" width="516" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6FgcDcwuQe_m-ingbV8lfMmxVJvdAd-SCYv-jStpmeiIWTwNJGlesVzMR2xXcERVu_ZKLN8sH7p8_H90_2nHgqeVdivHbCwdf5ZJPsfihJiVtjWD4e5Q_LM1Pfw15WcMV9dTLyUTL5OY/s1136/IMG_2551.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6FgcDcwuQe_m-ingbV8lfMmxVJvdAd-SCYv-jStpmeiIWTwNJGlesVzMR2xXcERVu_ZKLN8sH7p8_H90_2nHgqeVdivHbCwdf5ZJPsfihJiVtjWD4e5Q_LM1Pfw15WcMV9dTLyUTL5OY/w360-h640/IMG_2551.PNG" width="360" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Anyway, the film went great, and here’s Jeff in one scene:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoN4iwGI_QaUhUehn6izPeoUw2y0n23Cq7lBwlEs7b-x-fb0PcJXFlW6d1niAufo7SG0QNegp8FBY_rH3Wk5ck3V3oHGavOM6aMfHiv-JdvYqpMM5m_tirZlHWx5NIGaYRRVwTsaDjtL0/s1136/IMG_2550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoN4iwGI_QaUhUehn6izPeoUw2y0n23Cq7lBwlEs7b-x-fb0PcJXFlW6d1niAufo7SG0QNegp8FBY_rH3Wk5ck3V3oHGavOM6aMfHiv-JdvYqpMM5m_tirZlHWx5NIGaYRRVwTsaDjtL0/w360-h640/IMG_2550.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We walked back with this sky as the backdrop. It was so perfect, but I was still so mad about brunch. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA52SPG8Cl3hoawAdkdNRhkvGCzjCFn2hq8uU31R82slKpQxjtAPHX2uGvODod-kgUb1u_-PejHoOu9j7Pebei3P5UiH2Mln_Gz4sA0unEmKapm_BkAD8z_CzV3yRkYlCBCGOutR9a6D0/s640/IMG_2559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="464" data-original-width="640" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA52SPG8Cl3hoawAdkdNRhkvGCzjCFn2hq8uU31R82slKpQxjtAPHX2uGvODod-kgUb1u_-PejHoOu9j7Pebei3P5UiH2Mln_Gz4sA0unEmKapm_BkAD8z_CzV3yRkYlCBCGOutR9a6D0/w640-h464/IMG_2559.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Next came the drinks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We have a trillion gallons of whiskey at home, and I happen to love Whiskey Sours, so my goal was to brave the world of egg whites in drinks, and to make fancy cocktails before dinner. I then realized that I have to also make pizza sauces from scratch, so, to save time, Jeff was tasked with the cocktails, and I worked on the pumpkin and Alfredo sauce recipes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Jeff, to my knowledge, has never made a Whiskey Sour before. He is going to be mad at me when he reads this, but it must be said: he isn’t good with recipes. So, Jeff did not shake the egg whites for very long. He then assembled my cocktail, handed it to me, and I took a sip. And you know what? It was okay! And then I took another sip, and ended up swallowing what felt like a big booger. Can YOU guess what it WAS? YeS IT WaS EgG WhITE ThAt HaD NoT FrOTHed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I…..cannot begin to describe the sensation, and I don’t have a photo of the cocktail, nor much recollection of the few minutes that followed. To add insult to injury, Jeff then announced that he himself “did not want a Whiskey Sour” anymore. Perfect.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Anyway, moving on to the pizzas. I remember when I was 12 in elementary school, we made pizzas. Every single one of them was delicious. Everyone’s was a winner. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTEuc-6hyn8deRBeqi-C_SHZkz2Wlqz571ishDKSgNN3NrXy5YTKDcjbcnlMfxPw5FocsO1KNavdr-vgjTwSn41ymorGGYUZas_7ZvqZXX-MG0y2qXVuIIyTd01bgfqr0h0kLSNoX0W4E/s816/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-35-26.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTEuc-6hyn8deRBeqi-C_SHZkz2Wlqz571ishDKSgNN3NrXy5YTKDcjbcnlMfxPw5FocsO1KNavdr-vgjTwSn41ymorGGYUZas_7ZvqZXX-MG0y2qXVuIIyTd01bgfqr0h0kLSNoX0W4E/w502-h640/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-35-26.JPG" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fig, arugula, Goat cheese, pumpkin sauce - the best tasting one but still yuck</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This year, we thought it would be romantic to recreate the pizzas we had in Rome, in our favourite little place called Pinsere (yes, technically they aren’t pizzas but <i>they are</i>..)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We bought four little pre-made crusts, then I spent two weeks gathering all the fancy ingredients: figs, smoked Italian black forest ham, pizza-specific mozzarella, artichokes, and so on. The pizza crust packaging said to bake them for 6-8 minutes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We topped them and baked for 15 minutes. Each and every one of them came out sopping wet/raw/soft/disgusting.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOk-WR2ZbtJ7CdSdw6NVyRY1rgADbuyZHf_YX2vQVqbun4ZyJxTtIcVpmialJj-mVYNCaCrK0S6DI3JsMZRJos0Ea1Yuaw1F3DZWfBcO4jYtKkAtj_zLm7AcWzoGsjqsuwMiLZFOjJ3wY/s814/IMG_2553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="814" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOk-WR2ZbtJ7CdSdw6NVyRY1rgADbuyZHf_YX2vQVqbun4ZyJxTtIcVpmialJj-mVYNCaCrK0S6DI3JsMZRJos0Ea1Yuaw1F3DZWfBcO4jYtKkAtj_zLm7AcWzoGsjqsuwMiLZFOjJ3wY/w504-h640/IMG_2553.jpg" width="504" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Italian ham, artichoke, ricotta, white sauce - nasty</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy3mb0W2Pl_EiPsvdlx9cllPQT54Rn_4-MLv2vKn0yUkoOUyuZi-2SRDM3kFCMSXJMQNNgtTy3uYRvHKv3ssu-oy1zfn4ltXQ6Rh3eaQ3eMw3OPRRNw4ZgaP44aN_sbErf-uhq9z27ruM/s814/IMG_2554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="814" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy3mb0W2Pl_EiPsvdlx9cllPQT54Rn_4-MLv2vKn0yUkoOUyuZi-2SRDM3kFCMSXJMQNNgtTy3uYRvHKv3ssu-oy1zfn4ltXQ6Rh3eaQ3eMw3OPRRNw4ZgaP44aN_sbErf-uhq9z27ruM/w504-h640/IMG_2554.jpg" width="504" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pistachio, ricotta, prosciutto, pumpkin sauce - blergh</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6SW4MZgEGthB8tPj3uDw4HTywipY4QuBPMYGdcVG4wPC7aoi7iey9sdn6iTFevlz67r9CMWmhhVsjb2IChoERsYdmkXQgQsO2i0At7A0oWts4B0TT2yC9rl6rGW7uAivKVscg5Y8wIPw/s816/IMG_2555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6SW4MZgEGthB8tPj3uDw4HTywipY4QuBPMYGdcVG4wPC7aoi7iey9sdn6iTFevlz67r9CMWmhhVsjb2IChoERsYdmkXQgQsO2i0At7A0oWts4B0TT2yC9rl6rGW7uAivKVscg5Y8wIPw/w502-h640/IMG_2555.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just NO.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What was supposed to be a romantic candle-lit dinner turned out into a stress-fest of tearing off chunks of wet cheese in a brightly lit room while Jeff ran back and forth reheating what we thought we could still salvage.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After finishing our meal, I decided to do the dishes and put on some music to help pass the time and move the evening to its completion. “Turn off Weird Al Yankovic,” Jeff said. “I know you feel defeated, but this is not you.” Apparently, I was having an Amish Paradise breakdown.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQGh8J2pGtlLpUiCsuAzMTQ3bAd9VxlrhB3cZ1MAViiGY8wJYJwZAaLdjWIz0dGJtxXgIKIJB8QBByX9KVLm_WNOqPhM6YTWdXpCpZdWfGtKbN61arLHg-j8hW9jLsf1dc2HcVS6HcfZE/s697/IMG_2557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQGh8J2pGtlLpUiCsuAzMTQ3bAd9VxlrhB3cZ1MAViiGY8wJYJwZAaLdjWIz0dGJtxXgIKIJB8QBByX9KVLm_WNOqPhM6YTWdXpCpZdWfGtKbN61arLHg-j8hW9jLsf1dc2HcVS6HcfZE/w589-h640/IMG_2557.jpg" width="589" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artichoke, red sauce, prosciutto, mozzarella, who cares</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Then, we settled in to a nice, romantic movie. Except we don’t really do romantic movies, so we put on Sex and the City 2 because Jeff always gets really mad at every scene and I find it very funny. With our movie, we had the final culinary masterpiece of the night, a frozen Almondy Toblerone cake, very similar to the ones you get at Ikea. Can’t screw that up, right? Wrong. I can’t describe what was bad about it, but it was so bad that I, a sugar addict, took a bite and threw the rest in the trash. It was so bad, in fact, that after trying it, we both just looked at each other and laughed. The movie, of course, was awful and altogether horrible to watch, plus it’s like seven hours long and by the end of it I just wanted Valentine’s Day to be over.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HbJjo3TrypQhUfsfwMSZUZ9EJSFJvaOmLN4W190EZn_ZPF2x3yHlRd5AEE1lAUd2DynzCch8WFwHFZGP_CojH8C4q2TsJth12Z8NsafPqyAOwqwbT41aw32pZ1Gv-fCG8j8pNV_LG2E/s818/IMG_2558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="818" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HbJjo3TrypQhUfsfwMSZUZ9EJSFJvaOmLN4W190EZn_ZPF2x3yHlRd5AEE1lAUd2DynzCch8WFwHFZGP_CojH8C4q2TsJth12Z8NsafPqyAOwqwbT41aw32pZ1Gv-fCG8j8pNV_LG2E/w501-h640/IMG_2558.jpg" width="501" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But they looked so promising before we put them in the oven :(</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I don’t know if it’s because of the lockdown putting extra pressure on events having more meaning, or the fact that we have been dieting so much that we had really been looking forward to a cheat day of delicious food which turned out to be a massacre of filth, but I just felt really down, disappointed, and annoyed with myself for not soaking the bread properly. Or, maybe, it was a means by which I was allowing myself to accept the sadness of what we, as humanity, are going through. Probably just the eggs though.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Then, I opened Jeff’s valentine’s day card to find two little foxes in a hot air balloon, and in that moment it really felt like <i>Us</i>, holding on tight, through the pandemic, our tiny claustrophobic apartment, the daily grey skies, the internet that disappeared from rainfall, our injuries, the endless physio, the goals we didn’t reach, the pain we’ve overcome, and the valentine’s day that Jeff said we will always remember as the day of “really, really gross food”. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyN-5xRVcQTkaywiMpn35nBsYjxNwPsjADtMxUv9mhQKrFH7oo8USRW57PF0ChkiLXg-N5a7okxXWCNPqOpLqudpL39Vjgf-RuH6ERR1xlZV2zBm5oN4rHPdfEretERbkAsVgGiWhcWc/s837/IMG_2552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="837" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyN-5xRVcQTkaywiMpn35nBsYjxNwPsjADtMxUv9mhQKrFH7oo8USRW57PF0ChkiLXg-N5a7okxXWCNPqOpLqudpL39Vjgf-RuH6ERR1xlZV2zBm5oN4rHPdfEretERbkAsVgGiWhcWc/w490-h640/IMG_2552.jpg" width="490" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We put on a song that wasn’t the national anthem, and Jeff danced with me the way you slow dance with a dumb cry-baby. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my nails which I had painted with hearts, but which actually looked like they were done by a golden retriever who had learned nail art way too late in life. The last of my planning, up in flames.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL2sMRjtOoxxvEVH3uFeDkmPARa0Le7v1XHP-YP6lgBLf67NrgNR4NoGvN_h-3MXP-luZ7Xczg-PcaBSejjDsWvKN-bCBPpSbu9zTpone6gqMeq5FE5__EukVqR_D0g3seMYG5qTnoO9k/s640/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-37-29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="640" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL2sMRjtOoxxvEVH3uFeDkmPARa0Le7v1XHP-YP6lgBLf67NrgNR4NoGvN_h-3MXP-luZ7Xczg-PcaBSejjDsWvKN-bCBPpSbu9zTpone6gqMeq5FE5__EukVqR_D0g3seMYG5qTnoO9k/w400-h353/Facetune_16-02-2021-13-37-29.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I know I am incredibly lucky, not just for Jeff and my family, but for everyone I have the honour of caring about and loving, in my life. I never lose sight of that. So important is my acknowledgment of the people I love, that Jeff's gift to me aside from the roses, was this framed photo of me with my mom and sister, a reminder that Valentine's Day isn't just about romantic love.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4B631FRrXhC2WVF2jiDPvINaOXliePPAEpw4wTBmKEceGxpBdzySNOSbgo6mpuChhOfDWqsR0rZl-cpfmkfSWkZnNMWxKRr57_zZ3Q73KvPyyJ_QiUai0D591-1etefVIPZ1bTwOiuFo/s806/IMG_2561.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="806" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4B631FRrXhC2WVF2jiDPvINaOXliePPAEpw4wTBmKEceGxpBdzySNOSbgo6mpuChhOfDWqsR0rZl-cpfmkfSWkZnNMWxKRr57_zZ3Q73KvPyyJ_QiUai0D591-1etefVIPZ1bTwOiuFo/w508-h640/IMG_2561.jpg" width="508" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>But still, Valentine's Day was fucking gross this year. Some things you just cannot sugar-coat.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div></div></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-40227484657295559262021-01-31T08:35:00.000-05:002021-01-31T08:35:09.114-05:00January Roundup <p>My focus for this month (in addition to starting to consider the option of not adding Baileys/vodka to my morning coffee) was to get the house organized. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6wctSqsfMHBIuMhMMznX0nAfMvqnLY_VhvKISSt5w9jD3yZ_7cu6rLw0xsuBJGCqabiTuNEyWfXUT-QHfUXptejwvydxJduhhmVWcFSsyi15_uCaEJpXeLv1VbWtiA9vtewSFmvz9v8/s1136/84E43B26-BF56-47EB-8B2D-0A38F07C79E7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6wctSqsfMHBIuMhMMznX0nAfMvqnLY_VhvKISSt5w9jD3yZ_7cu6rLw0xsuBJGCqabiTuNEyWfXUT-QHfUXptejwvydxJduhhmVWcFSsyi15_uCaEJpXeLv1VbWtiA9vtewSFmvz9v8/s16000/84E43B26-BF56-47EB-8B2D-0A38F07C79E7.JPG" /></a></div><br /><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>I was gone for a few months and, as per usual, with Jeff left alone, our apartment took on a Tolkien-esque character. Our curtains darkened from white to grey, a mysterious and indelible spot appeared in one of my kitchen pots, and cobwebs grew in every corner of every room, under tables, and between Jeff’s ears. </p><p>This month was mainly spent scrubbing the cupboards, doing laundry, and teaching Jeff his name and how to walk again. Haha. </p><p>That said, January looked like this:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_c0N9mgJgF82dc95EnKTfcPwwJwKaeBtA_pWdunfX9k09vTsTpfMgTHXYJyvjISoqcn5kLjvW3Gr1KHmy3nFBmMp8q8TBBu0qrMOdMiEDlkGPX4IMKW5-o-jcGmGftkEXEgwjjfgsHj4/s1600/IMG_2141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_c0N9mgJgF82dc95EnKTfcPwwJwKaeBtA_pWdunfX9k09vTsTpfMgTHXYJyvjISoqcn5kLjvW3Gr1KHmy3nFBmMp8q8TBBu0qrMOdMiEDlkGPX4IMKW5-o-jcGmGftkEXEgwjjfgsHj4/w640-h480/IMG_2141.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Stephen's Green park - one of the most meaningful places in Dublin, for me</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><b><i>Learning Something:</i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div>I learned how to apply HTML/XML to edit the formatting on my blog template! This was a huge pain in the ass and I couldn’t replicate what I learned but I understand the fundamentals of Blogger editing which is already a step in the right direction. Huge thanks to Mr. Robin, the tech genius from India, who was there for me on the day I discovered that I had somehow managed to code the fabric of children's nightmares into the front page of my blog:</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhORjPeTJJ3myx8cfcfEnqXujQZoVoYrsKJUkLI_nY0h5irCOUmqOP7_Niwe9lwhvvht9klc4v_8LdEkwbyXRkKD98g21QfIC_3IBqcj0ZOqR7mxsT24TID4e5SepouDipCPZiWsftoH7o/s2244/Screen+Shot+2021-01-19+at+6.21.20+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1020" data-original-width="2244" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhORjPeTJJ3myx8cfcfEnqXujQZoVoYrsKJUkLI_nY0h5irCOUmqOP7_Niwe9lwhvvht9klc4v_8LdEkwbyXRkKD98g21QfIC_3IBqcj0ZOqR7mxsT24TID4e5SepouDipCPZiWsftoH7o/w640-h290/Screen+Shot+2021-01-19+at+6.21.20+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p><i><b>Something Social:</b></i></p><p>I don’t like talking about myself or about things I’ve done, so this was a big one for me: just telling people that my blog is up and running again was hnnnngh and a 'social' challenge for me. Reading this back, it makes me sound a bit like I walk on all fours, backwards, with the curtains drawn all day, but such is the life of an introvert, I suppose.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="text-align: left;"><b><i>Something Productive:</i></b></p><p style="text-align: left;">This month, I tackled the most soul-sucking thing of all time: I updated my passwords so all those sultans in Nigeria will need to remember the numbers 123 after my first and last name, for every log in, going forward. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I also, obviously, cleaned a lot…actually, so much that I developed an allergic reaction to disinfectant wipes, ain’t that neat?</p><p style="text-align: left;">I had a goal of finishing The Office Podcast ("An Oral History of The Office")…I love it, and highly recommend anyone listen to it on Spotify. It gives you a close look at how they got the show up and running, why it worked so well, and just how much it meant to the cast to be a part of something so great. Also, if you’ve ever suspected Jenna Fischer might be stuck up, this will confirm it. For me it did, anyway.</p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJMym4UnUGFrmwiBXTNarZH5UKRhAE9JW6fGwJRguBias_YJR0nQ8_e_UNL8IlX7sHNr7P04Thz2SylQJA1CBegt8N7qqAdvFSszb_T9kWBKqprezQrn4kG20X9LYyOGxvNs5NRvvIBgo/s1600/IMG_2138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJMym4UnUGFrmwiBXTNarZH5UKRhAE9JW6fGwJRguBias_YJR0nQ8_e_UNL8IlX7sHNr7P04Thz2SylQJA1CBegt8N7qqAdvFSszb_T9kWBKqprezQrn4kG20X9LYyOGxvNs5NRvvIBgo/w480-h640/IMG_2138.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crocuses growing in St.Stephen's Green park in January!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><b><i>Something Caring:</i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div>My dad and I don’t have a very close relationship and calling him, to me, means sitting through a monologue about why everything I do is basically wrong….so my goal was to make an effort to Skype him. I’m glad I did because, this time, he taught me about taking folic acid two hours before an interview to help with concentration. And then he laughed and laughed, describing a video about an octopus. </div><div><br /></div><div>I also wanted to finally sort my photos from Canada which I took when I was there, and send them all to my family. I refuse to figure out how a 'drop box' works and instead emailed them all in batches, so you know what, it took hours, and it ain’t much, but it’s honest work.</div><div><br /></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qmekRnV-jxmGLXdT3iLUBF9q0iWdL8SuqRZ8yWt1fgzB6DP5rXJdoxIXIt5ou7m2Vr3EjfJzQHueG04h4LMVVa1HIxKajkCH-KmorKqI91GwWubjY8a7TXTeZ9sYtMwQy8Oh9tirK3E/s1600/IMG_2139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qmekRnV-jxmGLXdT3iLUBF9q0iWdL8SuqRZ8yWt1fgzB6DP5rXJdoxIXIt5ou7m2Vr3EjfJzQHueG04h4LMVVa1HIxKajkCH-KmorKqI91GwWubjY8a7TXTeZ9sYtMwQy8Oh9tirK3E/w480-h640/IMG_2139.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><b><i>Something New:</i></b></p><p>Well, my hope was to go far, far away within the confines of Dublin, but reality, which has been the biggest cock block of fun lately, dictated otherwise. That said, Jeff and I went into town one sunny day and we walked by streets I hadn’t walked on before and it was so, so nice. </p><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFPsaI9wRGKFrqkLA9I7_9UhM9Q2QtR-rEFHD69brldABwpg7932E4WjsQWBLE8mQg5SqHskgEgZ5KkdZHEqfDoxrMiKIhkwya6i2qLttpDTOBeXoS0j4Tr9sA3C6RtQgNsUgQNRVCxEc/s1600/IMG_2134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFPsaI9wRGKFrqkLA9I7_9UhM9Q2QtR-rEFHD69brldABwpg7932E4WjsQWBLE8mQg5SqHskgEgZ5KkdZHEqfDoxrMiKIhkwya6i2qLttpDTOBeXoS0j4Tr9sA3C6RtQgNsUgQNRVCxEc/w480-h640/IMG_2134.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hume Street</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHzAYfMr_2h9r_ZGm2L6uEw6nvfzZtXvl7UThUfFQVUpWNwP0_s2iTQT0FZpdAW5m12fqA6zD67aZo1V00MsToc09Xi3NHhv_cQBVJuwAGmlnAeo_v3VAYzqot6HN_KON-NEMJkoO7k_o/s1600/IMG_2130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHzAYfMr_2h9r_ZGm2L6uEw6nvfzZtXvl7UThUfFQVUpWNwP0_s2iTQT0FZpdAW5m12fqA6zD67aZo1V00MsToc09Xi3NHhv_cQBVJuwAGmlnAeo_v3VAYzqot6HN_KON-NEMJkoO7k_o/w480-h640/IMG_2130.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pearse Station</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxFitQYkjQjKDLchYJ2yDkwB5F9i3R8dzGAWX_rCSrUilh8wisQJJhVnxUwXaK5ldY3mkDgvU7e3TiYIuvdatSw5MtnwFeNRiNjn6u7QmbvDIspWmf7bfTb4kMqmsF9Iw51lOyckcd4nE/s1600/IMG_2135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxFitQYkjQjKDLchYJ2yDkwB5F9i3R8dzGAWX_rCSrUilh8wisQJJhVnxUwXaK5ldY3mkDgvU7e3TiYIuvdatSw5MtnwFeNRiNjn6u7QmbvDIspWmf7bfTb4kMqmsF9Iw51lOyckcd4nE/w480-h640/IMG_2135.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ely Place</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div><b><i>Something Creative:</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>I restarted this blog, and re-designing the layout was the most demanding endeavour I’ve had to endure in a long time, and really reminded me of why I’ve been putting it off for about twelve years. </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><b><i>January Challenge: </i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>This has now become two challenges actually, thanks very much:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Stay sane while discovering that the walls are somehow dirty (??) and need to be washed. Jeff and I had to actually Swiffer them and I just want my life back. </div><div><br /></div><div>2. Stay sane while having to cancel my flight home due to the new travel restrictions for Canada.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyNCujZjW3CvhIfy5lTpXQ8eypygGOyw43G_b1WoTPT-cQ7fyXynScNyllhxIOVPX58dKv_ffsV0H8_6aDP8SAgwrESCkA_8EVywbLWVQaaeK0aI44HaMiVwfjR2c5KImtO1LO7-sInw/s1600/IMG_2131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyNCujZjW3CvhIfy5lTpXQ8eypygGOyw43G_b1WoTPT-cQ7fyXynScNyllhxIOVPX58dKv_ffsV0H8_6aDP8SAgwrESCkA_8EVywbLWVQaaeK0aI44HaMiVwfjR2c5KImtO1LO7-sInw/w480-h640/IMG_2131.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">National Gallery of Ireland</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ-pSYBG5Tj0e7dgM6IWHX9NWLCIuYWb9GM1DEBrweDUD58_3hKGE3Z_TDQr17C71SMhE0IY02yYsM8Xphbj2ghAsArp2QybS5rkHBApAKXm9kwKhVA0vht1-F0YNLC3h_DPBUZKtMjRI/s1600/IMG_2132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ-pSYBG5Tj0e7dgM6IWHX9NWLCIuYWb9GM1DEBrweDUD58_3hKGE3Z_TDQr17C71SMhE0IY02yYsM8Xphbj2ghAsArp2QybS5rkHBApAKXm9kwKhVA0vht1-F0YNLC3h_DPBUZKtMjRI/w480-h640/IMG_2132.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Department of the Taoiseach</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcDGGKj_SzzCbXGsA-1f7EpKd8Ur2fL7Ex_OKZ4HAUxZIopxN06Dh_onCR-Vmf0Y7wTIqVkyX_yzQF0y2Z_oc7lj3mlkN-4JmFCraC_edc-Kl3FsXYTAkweXxZA_zbPKhaU4zyFryVIA/s1600/IMG_2133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcDGGKj_SzzCbXGsA-1f7EpKd8Ur2fL7Ex_OKZ4HAUxZIopxN06Dh_onCR-Vmf0Y7wTIqVkyX_yzQF0y2Z_oc7lj3mlkN-4JmFCraC_edc-Kl3FsXYTAkweXxZA_zbPKhaU4zyFryVIA/w480-h640/IMG_2133.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Merrion Hotel</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><b><i>Fitness:</i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div>This is a tough one for me to talk about, like I had said in the previous post. A few months ago, just as I had arrived in Canada, I got an ulcer. I’ve never had one before and it was horrific. I ended up going to the ER, and was given this hardcore medication that made me bloat like crazy and put on a lot of weight very quickly. The worst part was that I couldn’t run or even walk for too long without this horrible pain in my chest. Shortly after that, my shoulder/neck injury flared up, and the pain was immeasurable. I started going to physio, but it didn’t help, and every time I would try to go for a run, my shoulders and neck would just hurt more. Shortly after that, I had to go for what was supposed to be a quick surgical procedure. It was supposed to last 20 minutes but instead last 1.5 hours and by the end of it, my blood pressure dropped so hard, they had to jolt my heart with some kind of adrenaline. I was told not to do any physical activity for a while after that, and to be honest, I was really not in the mood to go for a run after nearly dying, anyway. Shortly after that, I was put on a new dose of thyroid medication, which gave me insane anxiety attacks, and sadly, there was nothing I could do to help bring the anxiety down, because my usual therapy – running- was no longer possible. Over the last few months, I’ve put on more weight than I have in years, and I am not embarrassed to speak about this because, first of all, accountability, and secondly, shit happens. Since then, having come back to Dublin, I was told by my new physiotherapist to start trying to run again, but my fancy new weight has made it very hard to run without hurting my ankle..which I have. So, even my little baby 30 minute walk/run sessions have had to be taken down from three a week to two. So….this month….’Fitness’ meant just trying. Just doing what I can, and believing that I will get back to one day running 1km freely, then 5km, then maybe even 10km….then ….maybe a half marathon? Then maybe, if the stars align (dare I even dream…)…a marathon??? I don’t know when or how, but I’d like to believe that I’ll get back there. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidwFIg6C3GW6Aab9GmyiofAAGXyqdlZohOA1R3M-pKpuif3xLYq8yUT9MVKgf6gwFR1I2_z8H93nPtn3atrMWYZ9PjDge1k-_l24vsukkk6m1nZvKjvUkkevjr2BP5rnbBF9h0-ig7QDA/s1600/IMG_2144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidwFIg6C3GW6Aab9GmyiofAAGXyqdlZohOA1R3M-pKpuif3xLYq8yUT9MVKgf6gwFR1I2_z8H93nPtn3atrMWYZ9PjDge1k-_l24vsukkk6m1nZvKjvUkkevjr2BP5rnbBF9h0-ig7QDA/w480-h640/IMG_2144.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /></div><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJI_2J3aGLzR5WXX4zPCWAEKW_Evy2_Sv7YVsxmRhTCw9cQzEXjzXqhGH_KtSAwzXRIe5VTDwb2Qkuadax5pottSEjXU0QYkGKmW8gwYq8_maj1feC74kugLseR2iegaErYPgJni6JFpw/s1600/IMG_2136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJI_2J3aGLzR5WXX4zPCWAEKW_Evy2_Sv7YVsxmRhTCw9cQzEXjzXqhGH_KtSAwzXRIe5VTDwb2Qkuadax5pottSEjXU0QYkGKmW8gwYq8_maj1feC74kugLseR2iegaErYPgJni6JFpw/w480-h640/IMG_2136.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Shelbourne Hotel, where I once saw Michael Moore!!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKEf8k_8FFfWNFnHpi5td0WR2-XFix0elONeYT6yfUZxmuVgeJ9ihQgvWbCKGTrBq73k1DN_PpJ5QGvct0cG24DeunWhGxU6DB3hyphenhyphenIyBimEx_qtQfolFAG7YU6v_cJMonfYa2ZPocPWgI/s1600/IMG_2140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKEf8k_8FFfWNFnHpi5td0WR2-XFix0elONeYT6yfUZxmuVgeJ9ihQgvWbCKGTrBq73k1DN_PpJ5QGvct0cG24DeunWhGxU6DB3hyphenhyphenIyBimEx_qtQfolFAG7YU6v_cJMonfYa2ZPocPWgI/w480-h640/IMG_2140.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Stephen's Green Mall</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPpxVFZa2d8jqz03GClP6g8wTaVAgTIF6DABDQ2X_IvWILxczOTZwnXcyQM_6VVzLuKmaXNu3Ei_tuoxzxEEO7NxNdAWywz8Qolq2YkIsZ7TGSsxhoExIIotIxtSizEaEV9PurRWDPyhk/s1226/IMG_2142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1226" data-original-width="1055" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPpxVFZa2d8jqz03GClP6g8wTaVAgTIF6DABDQ2X_IvWILxczOTZwnXcyQM_6VVzLuKmaXNu3Ei_tuoxzxEEO7NxNdAWywz8Qolq2YkIsZ7TGSsxhoExIIotIxtSizEaEV9PurRWDPyhk/w550-h640/IMG_2142.jpg" width="550" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-25910115811173527492021-01-25T03:53:00.004-05:002021-01-25T03:53:54.096-05:00My 2021 Fool Proof Plan This Cannot Fail I Have Never Given Up On Blogging In The Past Why Should This Be Any Different<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">While blowing out my candles on my 34th birthday, surrounded by my loving family, I had an epiphany: I’m ancient. A fossil. Old news. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmB5da5VSwjnQJd-d87CiMJLo7ulwyjvTqAWfue_OKaM-GPMbASMrMBLOQZAnbqjjWLaV0mzYXOrJTNK9UpVtomo4RqZzBTYVJOhsTDCDnvZYwulsPDce4xrBNhFb4s3xhwJB5IxjKiOo/s1000/IMG_2116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="819" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmB5da5VSwjnQJd-d87CiMJLo7ulwyjvTqAWfue_OKaM-GPMbASMrMBLOQZAnbqjjWLaV0mzYXOrJTNK9UpVtomo4RqZzBTYVJOhsTDCDnvZYwulsPDce4xrBNhFb4s3xhwJB5IxjKiOo/s16000/IMG_2116.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span><a name='more'></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Alright, it wasn’t that bad, and I’m not that old, but I’m in my mid-thirties and one thing I regret, aside from the whole bat soup situation that started last year, is not really holding myself accountable for the last couple of years of my life. Sometimes, when days look similar, it’s easy to just let them drift by, until it’s suddenly December 31st and you can’t think of what you did this year that mattered. Maybe this doesn’t resonate (as in, you don’t look back on your year on this earth with utter dread LOL), in which case I’m jealous of you. But for me, accountability is the theme for 2021, and I’ve divided that into categories in which I’m challenging myself to progress every month:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><b>Learning Something</b></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Could be something as simple as how to tie a sailor’s knot, which ..I’m not sure why that’s my example but I’m too lazy to hit Backspace now so</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEBMZ_jErVqUOIEDzWrsgeo7VCNGQj4-L6s-s57eAGmYk7quTHLaB5mbqO9xWJZekD0dGzxrefKMVO68vNmQfG8nTXMgos9ILRtQugHk0OiYgw5ZliF9yyvzen8gO8w-DJv-nOcxb3V9M/s1500/IMG_2113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEBMZ_jErVqUOIEDzWrsgeo7VCNGQj4-L6s-s57eAGmYk7quTHLaB5mbqO9xWJZekD0dGzxrefKMVO68vNmQfG8nTXMgos9ILRtQugHk0OiYgw5ZliF9yyvzen8gO8w-DJv-nOcxb3V9M/s16000/IMG_2113.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><b><i>Something Productive</i></b></div><div>This could be a project or just an item off one of those neverending to-do lists</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Something Social</i></b></div><div>I have terrible social anxiety so I’m being very lenient in this area, but the idea is to make an effort</div></div><div><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCuUyj8SwFgfaW6FB2fnY2SkpBpm5KxC8n8TlRPz5iUYGmMzp0fDENITOwLFHtpJZr3Va4L3l_n0EHRomNOIk0f8uhxoNsos3OpfbGAOr_ZzPdp40QNP4lJdwRjmqmXP1UJZcPynDUidY/s1500/IMG_2112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCuUyj8SwFgfaW6FB2fnY2SkpBpm5KxC8n8TlRPz5iUYGmMzp0fDENITOwLFHtpJZr3Va4L3l_n0EHRomNOIk0f8uhxoNsos3OpfbGAOr_ZzPdp40QNP4lJdwRjmqmXP1UJZcPynDUidY/s16000/IMG_2112.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span><div><b><i>Something Caring</i></b></div><div>This is my favourite one, and it involves just making sure I do something kind for someone (or several people if I can!)</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Something New</i></b></div><div>Going somewhere new. In this aforementioned bat soup situation we’re in, we’re currently restricted to a 5km radius, so I’m not about to jet off to Jerusalem, but again…just seeing a new place would be enough. It could be walking by a new heroin junkie street. The possibilities are endless if you get creative</div><div><br /></div><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu2v4GNb_s6yPV-4euZv1Lb1TkTxD7v87aKd10QdsRIU0i5A94jvD2kxrPdOAZuMn8CtRb2Ubckd4wMcJBvFQ9gLZklVfBI54-3kvGY93BQmutL9uhTEJzH8q6O8Az50cSrBm0Sy5TU1Y/s2048/IMG_4862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu2v4GNb_s6yPV-4euZv1Lb1TkTxD7v87aKd10QdsRIU0i5A94jvD2kxrPdOAZuMn8CtRb2Ubckd4wMcJBvFQ9gLZklVfBI54-3kvGY93BQmutL9uhTEJzH8q6O8Az50cSrBm0Sy5TU1Y/s16000/IMG_4862.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><div><b><i>Something Creative</i></b></div><div>I love this one a lot because I often push chores ahead of creative opportunities. Take a back seat, Swiffer, mama’s got a Microsoft Word trial and she’s not afraid to make plain-text blog posts in it.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Fitness</i></b></div><div>The last few months have been a really rough road for me, so I’m being kind to myself at the moment and not stressing myself out too much over getting back on track. As long as I make some kind of effort, this one gets a little imaginary cat sticker. </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2F4fFu4jho8DuR4sFPHxoiiTGLYZC7ppnC3-JKlkmV31nKBLzge57Liyb-rr035q4XasM67dZvEiYIjXuOQbud0CfJv4jJKJ_o1txHELNnAFWTLtNSmDY2vT9sSEDdB-XdMOmypN7-J4/s1500/IMG_2114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2F4fFu4jho8DuR4sFPHxoiiTGLYZC7ppnC3-JKlkmV31nKBLzge57Liyb-rr035q4XasM67dZvEiYIjXuOQbud0CfJv4jJKJ_o1txHELNnAFWTLtNSmDY2vT9sSEDdB-XdMOmypN7-J4/s16000/IMG_2114.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><div><b><i>Monthly Challenge</i></b></div><div>WHEN WE EAT CHICKEN BONES IN BED AND SCREAM-CRY AMIRITE LADIES HAHAHAHA MENSES</div><div>Okay no, this is a category for just a different type of effort I would like to focus on. A different sort of challenge.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>So, with that said, my next blog post will be a January Roundup! I wonder if maybe this might inspire anyone else to take on a few concrete challenges throughout this very relaxing and peaceful year where we have nothing else to worry about LOLOLLOLOLOLLLLLLLROFL </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-xFF7Hd2YHkudGU08VbxOP17z8JyjFXAIaRBaMMCOgZJU2-gOW6Q4rnfeH8iVyhdCogq4LS-QXcjS8bZb0McS6AcgijUYhJ3YooW04y3F0OXyMFCEMzto1o3GlHx5yPvRGWJ1-eqY0o0/s2048/IMG_4843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-xFF7Hd2YHkudGU08VbxOP17z8JyjFXAIaRBaMMCOgZJU2-gOW6Q4rnfeH8iVyhdCogq4LS-QXcjS8bZb0McS6AcgijUYhJ3YooW04y3F0OXyMFCEMzto1o3GlHx5yPvRGWJ1-eqY0o0/s16000/IMG_4843.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirqHQw8_Z0EKeIlrFNSwvDlc5reRBNQRJoinzOsSUxawcy7bpoCXTSXPVyfVCPOv_didFpOtI4zi1D2DoPDLCb6OqqInb4rmHmO1y4rFVWPD_UztmbQ2p_LxzT5cedy9X_7HlE4oYjiNw/s2048/IMG_4793.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirqHQw8_Z0EKeIlrFNSwvDlc5reRBNQRJoinzOsSUxawcy7bpoCXTSXPVyfVCPOv_didFpOtI4zi1D2DoPDLCb6OqqInb4rmHmO1y4rFVWPD_UztmbQ2p_LxzT5cedy9X_7HlE4oYjiNw/s16000/IMG_4793.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-56630011414337375432021-01-24T07:56:00.002-05:002021-01-26T11:27:22.960-05:00Your Wife Becoming Be Will I<p>Last month, on the day after I returned to Ireland, Jeff asked me to marry him. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGlcXok8hX9LvnIPGMagioaNu6uawQHIX8Gx7AjRM75-xKFlVl6CBf42ZVP8QHLuUPmuQ8ONxyhw-y_P-1_ieFEIvX2ypOOnuAhCzLxk4vdtuCkuiI9c8Y1Khvj_S_lno5oLdUA-jkv7M/s2048/Facetune+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1327" data-original-width="2048" height="415" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGlcXok8hX9LvnIPGMagioaNu6uawQHIX8Gx7AjRM75-xKFlVl6CBf42ZVP8QHLuUPmuQ8ONxyhw-y_P-1_ieFEIvX2ypOOnuAhCzLxk4vdtuCkuiI9c8Y1Khvj_S_lno5oLdUA-jkv7M/w640-h415/Facetune+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was a day we reserved to celebrate as an Autumn Harvest/Thanksgiving/Hallmark Movie kind of day, because, being apart for a few months, we had missed my favourite fall season together. The sun was a soft orange, and even though around us were Christmas lights, our apartment was decorated in acorns, leaves, and everything pumpkin spice.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQl8XGy0pbszEOlBENiy2iFaEAeftOCBcKqstW5elZj2NG6hlhCzBZdcyU5muwwrIAQ9qW0N8PpKnf9Unnnrt4txUzHDVBi_zRxchMC9RD-RAnma2I_Epi_aNtq7tBuChh6wz79YCci4/s1600/5718f147-b6f3-40f4-9cda-078c25d3d6cd.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQl8XGy0pbszEOlBENiy2iFaEAeftOCBcKqstW5elZj2NG6hlhCzBZdcyU5muwwrIAQ9qW0N8PpKnf9Unnnrt4txUzHDVBi_zRxchMC9RD-RAnma2I_Epi_aNtq7tBuChh6wz79YCci4/w640-h480/5718f147-b6f3-40f4-9cda-078c25d3d6cd.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The thing I will forever remember about Jeff’s proposal is the kindness of something he did earlier that day (completely unintentionally), which was exactly the sort of kindness that made me fall in love with him years ago. Because, in a perfect world, I would survive solely on Krispy Kreme donuts, Jeff ordered a dozen of them to surprise me. When I saw them and realized we couldn’t possibly eat the whole box, my first suggestion was that we freeze the rest, because I am very greedy and rude. Jeff’s first instinct, because he is an angel, was to offer some to the kids playing outside. Without a moment’s hesitation, he ran out with the donuts and the kids were so, so happy. I mean, in a world of pink sweaty nightmare pastries, when you’re presented with the heavenly cloud that is a Krispy Kreme donut…you know not to say no. Actually, as I write this I realize the kids said ‘<i>yes</i>’ to Jeff before I even did..hmm</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibFpCN8oqN6M3Tl2Vm4Zxj6cLDFlyEZyAX417zPsmA3X74rrxWufBQB_uWSHOXJ_ZK-s3EKqtWxfzW_fqbfEby2rVNw6-_t0QvYGR8zPp4liB4svbbms0basSgpA4RVbFPW5bCmDVBAeY/s640/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-18-17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="640" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibFpCN8oqN6M3Tl2Vm4Zxj6cLDFlyEZyAX417zPsmA3X74rrxWufBQB_uWSHOXJ_ZK-s3EKqtWxfzW_fqbfEby2rVNw6-_t0QvYGR8zPp4liB4svbbms0basSgpA4RVbFPW5bCmDVBAeY/w400-h365/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-18-17.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Early on in our relationship when we were texting with an ocean between us, Jeff took in a very ugly stray cat. Nicknaming him Ghost Cat because he was white and the kind of thing you’d see on your wall in the middle of the night in a haunted Airbnb, Jeff cooked it a full chicken breast, and put some mayonnaise on the side so the cat would have the option of making an already exotic meal even tastier. He sent me photos of the chicken breast and the little dollop of mayo on the side. The gesture was so unbelievably kind that..well, that was it for me. I was smitten. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1H_kYja6qzitL3aC0BOTQSlDAnFsNII8hJ2QkKBSL5nfJvoG55jEugAgpSIB28rAqriS497pOItt-6b_gQhu7mrbh6YXbFH_Vd7ckYPAE9ULZzywmAi7U1TJgrf9174jyPSvbGS1jwlM/s1470/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-11-53.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1338" data-original-width="1470" height="583" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1H_kYja6qzitL3aC0BOTQSlDAnFsNII8hJ2QkKBSL5nfJvoG55jEugAgpSIB28rAqriS497pOItt-6b_gQhu7mrbh6YXbFH_Vd7ckYPAE9ULZzywmAi7U1TJgrf9174jyPSvbGS1jwlM/w640-h583/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-11-53.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Flash forward to five years later, and there I stood in the kitchen, watching him run back home thrilled that he could make those kids so happy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">That evening, Jeff adamantly suggested <i>he</i> cook our belated Thanksgiving dinner of a roast chicken, honey glazed carrots, caesar salad, and croquettes. The itemization of the dinner is important because, later, I couldn’t taste any of it, let alone hold my fork. Jeff told me to wait in the bedroom while he got some things ready and I took the opportunity to get started on one of my favourite hobbies of all time: a letter of complaint. This time it was to Air Canada about a suitcase they damaged while I was on my way to Dublin from Ottawa. Little did I know that would be the last thing I would do as a single woman. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXSaKQiGt57ByAC3u8uendrBnUCSjvQo0qLTJF44DpY92mOXth0aKMrtIMzl-xTuUWHw9TWhjAAdXkwnxyJs45LY_t36CEH_V7PGnyLi7-lJd4rEvxQfXtyC_f2Y3JSk1O7sV_QR_2uuA/s1406/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-17-00.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1406" data-original-width="945" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXSaKQiGt57ByAC3u8uendrBnUCSjvQo0qLTJF44DpY92mOXth0aKMrtIMzl-xTuUWHw9TWhjAAdXkwnxyJs45LY_t36CEH_V7PGnyLi7-lJd4rEvxQfXtyC_f2Y3JSk1O7sV_QR_2uuA/w430-h640/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-17-00.JPG" width="430" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating having finally chosen the engagement ring together!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Soon after, Jeff called me into the living room, illuminated by what looked like hundreds of tiny tealight candles. On the floor were little felt autumn leaves, scattered. On the window, a large poster photograph of the Rideau Canal in Ottawa, my favourite place in the world. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He had wanted to ask me by the canal, but the pandemic made it impossible for him to come to Canada with me when I had left. Our apartment, I think, was even better, because, as he explained, it also was reminiscent of one of the most touching moments in our favourite show, when Michael proposed to Holly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhuWiwiWiFZ3UreF6zvzS-NBeMxK5UAANcesVdff7Bu-kRvvMq5ayRhx0zhuB7s8_UjVs9KyW3c-paUx7iTLaQnkGKf5hbbjjZICkKLMfIOcqDa0fRxnEtigMrvTf_PVahW1PiKV1gqY/s1574/Facetune.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1047" data-original-width="1574" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhuWiwiWiFZ3UreF6zvzS-NBeMxK5UAANcesVdff7Bu-kRvvMq5ayRhx0zhuB7s8_UjVs9KyW3c-paUx7iTLaQnkGKf5hbbjjZICkKLMfIOcqDa0fRxnEtigMrvTf_PVahW1PiKV1gqY/w640-h426/Facetune.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The rest was a blur, and I remember saying yes, but not much else, and I remember sitting down to our dinner, unable to even speak, just trying to understand how it happened to be that somehow, I am someone’s fiancée.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Of all the things I expected to feel, what I wasn’t expecting was to cry upon seeing the care other people have extended towards us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb89XU_NemkCLvS3TUFWwu7KiUyb_CRvF5bvFGAwzav_EKgG-g1vO6FqIw4peLE8dUkW-VR3az3tfwgt8wW2nOTrZpFUx8ZkdWlzreUH8CuelgVDHY0Tec5SfNQ1CMM-ObJ1TWsAhwGes/s1600/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-16-41.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb89XU_NemkCLvS3TUFWwu7KiUyb_CRvF5bvFGAwzav_EKgG-g1vO6FqIw4peLE8dUkW-VR3az3tfwgt8wW2nOTrZpFUx8ZkdWlzreUH8CuelgVDHY0Tec5SfNQ1CMM-ObJ1TWsAhwGes/w480-h640/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-16-41.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A surprise engagement party at Jeff's family's house! I really wanted my ring to be in the photo and then deeply regretted how I made myself look lol<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBYrKNZ9vbdkF6HTMFanYigRK3gtRdpqGxB9Q9F1EPhg0S3uyg6Az_wr_uk7TuBi91k1-IT-60fK-_Bom5xMlM_-CI6EWP557QZRg91poKtL9Wttine5HJy8nUWugRXX16FpSLGo82wc/s640/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-14-17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="640" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBYrKNZ9vbdkF6HTMFanYigRK3gtRdpqGxB9Q9F1EPhg0S3uyg6Az_wr_uk7TuBi91k1-IT-60fK-_Bom5xMlM_-CI6EWP557QZRg91poKtL9Wttine5HJy8nUWugRXX16FpSLGo82wc/w400-h143/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-14-17.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only 90 Day Fiancé fans will get this one!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There I was, sitting with my Bride’s Notes notebook, opening a wedding checklist document my friend Samantha sent me, expecting a generic wedding planning list which would’ve already been extremely kind…and suddenly, I saw “Jeff and Alisa’s Wedding” and the tears started flowing. She personalized it with little notes and tips, just for us. Then, I saw “If you have your wedding in Ottawa, Moores has a coupon…” and it hit me- like it does whether I’m away for a year or a week- it hit me how much I miss home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I looked down at my little notebook, a gift from Jeff’s sister Louise, and again was overwhelmed with gratitude and disbelief that I happen to find myself sharing the same lifetime as these wonderful, caring people. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIRLQDEesVey9O5fM4NxDkFIorbZJcCW0JY2a-dTcZW7DypKL3wTNra-mo0n8o0h4iQ9zofaS65x8eiqF2PDm-Tg0ikH6Y7I-hDOn8wNFdygM03yh1m8TzEeWJ0MEbq9vIw4YnwUaFuEY/s1600/Facetune_24-01-2021-12-31-19.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1600" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIRLQDEesVey9O5fM4NxDkFIorbZJcCW0JY2a-dTcZW7DypKL3wTNra-mo0n8o0h4iQ9zofaS65x8eiqF2PDm-Tg0ikH6Y7I-hDOn8wNFdygM03yh1m8TzEeWJ0MEbq9vIw4YnwUaFuEY/w640-h420/Facetune_24-01-2021-12-31-19.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I think maybe because a wedding is, to me, such an intimate idea, seeing other people extend this kindness and thoughtfulness towards something I have always considered so personal and intimate, it has really caught me off guard and these days it takes everything I have not to burst into tears just thinking about all the beautiful messages, cards, gifts, and efforts extended towards us. From Jeff’s family throwing us a surprise engagement party (I didn’t know that was a thing!), to receiving engagement gifts from family and friends, to seeing how excited my mom is to help plan the wedding…this is a whole new world of things that make tears run down my face, like I don’t already cry enough.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmb_x0NSv7AAXiFh_gpwuBSyJn0gN-fEuo13M4RmWmNss3KcejxdioysMTP6KnBqO3hfAqXRGE7Ty4488s-Ei6XjszdZIDbfDJ2tKmecXvJprWAb_eF5TF5X5IL9Cw0UIfHJJ36HnAAsY/s1600/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-13-05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmb_x0NSv7AAXiFh_gpwuBSyJn0gN-fEuo13M4RmWmNss3KcejxdioysMTP6KnBqO3hfAqXRGE7Ty4488s-Ei6XjszdZIDbfDJ2tKmecXvJprWAb_eF5TF5X5IL9Cw0UIfHJJ36HnAAsY/w480-h640/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-13-05.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our friends treated us to an exquisite, gorgeous dinner to celebrate...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCHp0E4LE333C2GrP5zQsBMjYZFMbSO0GdA0qlBDZLcCAIUzv-l88e9rXEUl1ren1udYxaVIvJu4f4U00buu-Q58L45LwtyT_yE1Z8FIvpzhxxcHTqjC4h5SwOr5SO4JsBtDhwghrztw/s1359/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-13-46.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1359" data-original-width="1169" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCHp0E4LE333C2GrP5zQsBMjYZFMbSO0GdA0qlBDZLcCAIUzv-l88e9rXEUl1ren1udYxaVIvJu4f4U00buu-Q58L45LwtyT_yE1Z8FIvpzhxxcHTqjC4h5SwOr5SO4JsBtDhwghrztw/w550-h640/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-13-46.JPG" width="550" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...complete with the most beautiful gifts!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghInmJ1TLx8SgHUyGRLJDh3X0micttD6NsQWegsCvKRdXEWPR-DFu9ejkpwxrWJZwN9ZFU27JWIEiwpM58yCD-g-dkvKs5NxmVlFNmgbbsQR8LBKHlIVnX0Pz71N5FE9xnlv8ge8X9Qe0/s1389/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-16-12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1389" data-original-width="1199" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghInmJ1TLx8SgHUyGRLJDh3X0micttD6NsQWegsCvKRdXEWPR-DFu9ejkpwxrWJZwN9ZFU27JWIEiwpM58yCD-g-dkvKs5NxmVlFNmgbbsQR8LBKHlIVnX0Pz71N5FE9xnlv8ge8X9Qe0/w552-h640/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-16-12.JPG" width="552" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toasting with Jeff's family!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I deliberated sharing this very personal aspect of my life because I am a very private person in general, but after I said ‘<i>yes</i>’, I realized I want to remember these little moments, from the letter to the airline, to Jeff's "<i>Would you</i>.."…to what will eventually become the day we become husband and wife. These blog posts have always ultimately been for me, to mark the moments that make life so special, and I’m so happy I can add this detail to my little book.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Thank you for reading :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJdieLgTdKN-JOFg7JPh6NMVeghQQuuWKuv-on8fYnwKMTvJJt_X_MSqE5JS65YniRZKQ83uayuuSbA7HOZMxhKenftryFJTkO8FvsKNNRWuKIlpvR2N0noQzqK5sco6ykCMI4wK_vs8g/s1600/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-14-50.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJdieLgTdKN-JOFg7JPh6NMVeghQQuuWKuv-on8fYnwKMTvJJt_X_MSqE5JS65YniRZKQ83uayuuSbA7HOZMxhKenftryFJTkO8FvsKNNRWuKIlpvR2N0noQzqK5sco6ykCMI4wK_vs8g/w480-h640/Facetune_24-01-2021-11-14-50.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My ring sizer from Germany! I had never seen one like this before..</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-26584446699298770632020-04-15T07:48:00.036-04:002021-01-21T10:58:19.985-05:00Amsterdam<div class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span class="s1" style="font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;">A couple of years ago, for our anniversary, Jeff and I went to Amsterdam. I had been having a particularly lonely time, and was between jobs, so I did what I had to do: I applied for any shitty opportunity I could find, and I had started accepting Facebook friend requests from Nigerian scammers. </span></div><div class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div><div class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: calibri; font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkQSQsuNX2fCLgLmhURfzjoWwAa0WPb4q-lb4IS2Yc6GtSlcWBVLboHaJGP63qCLS7F7SY8Af_qyNR4TsSxcCdl-hedsQwVd2RoBO5p27PHemtV0fL-AB_OYyg4A9Sfc2jP_Mmn1kTqc/s1600/IMG_7273.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1029" data-original-width="633" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkQSQsuNX2fCLgLmhURfzjoWwAa0WPb4q-lb4IS2Yc6GtSlcWBVLboHaJGP63qCLS7F7SY8Af_qyNR4TsSxcCdl-hedsQwVd2RoBO5p27PHemtV0fL-AB_OYyg4A9Sfc2jP_Mmn1kTqc/s320/IMG_7273.PNG" width="196" /></a></div><span class="s1" style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></div><div class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: georgia; font-kerning: none;"><span></span>Before I continue, I’d like to elaborate on the latter: Nigerian scammers make for very devoted friends. They fall in love with you the minute you start talking, and if you can get past them constantly interrupting your train of thought to ask you to send the fucking money already, they're actually pretty fun. They tell you you’re as beautiful as the sun/a rose/planet/sky etc. (which is sometimes all you need to hear) and, if you get them on a good day, they might even write you a poem. If you’re ever feeling down, I highly recommend a Nigerian scammer.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> Here is some photographic support for my argument:</span></span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Anyway, around that same time, Jeff and I were also living for 90 Day Fiance and were both heavily mesmerized by Jesse Meester so of course, when we got to Amsterdam, the first thing I did was text Jesse in the event that this man who had never met me or heard of me before might actually want to jeopardize his safety and meet us - I attribute this delirious courage to being high off a job interview that had gone well the day before, a high that superseded any high I could feel from any Dutch pot shops, so my plan for the weekend was to stay sober and just enjoy the sight-seeing. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">I kept my phone handy in case I would hear back from the job placement agent or Jesse Meester, but it kept lighting up with “You there baby?” and “Please say you love me too” from neither of them but rather Buzz Scott, the DEFINITELY CAUCASIAN AND FINANCIALLY SECURE stock photo shipping off to the Navy and desperately seeking payments for child support to his daughter who happens to be in Lagos, Nigeria on a school trip. </span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">We had walked through several cozy canal neighbourhoods, taken a boat tour on which a freshly divorced geriatric madam and her decrepit cocker spaniel made a pass at Jeff, and were enjoying a little Danish bun when I received a reply from Jesse. I put my bun down and looked at Jeff, and we read the message: “I’ll be at the central station in 20 minutes. Let’s meet.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">“I can’t believe this!” Jeff screamed as we ran. </span>I couldn't either. Suddenly, everything I've heard from people who enjoy life was opening up to me, too! I would be meeting a real life celebrity, on Monday I would get that job I’ve always wanted, and Jeff and I would</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> </span><span><span style="font-family: georgia;">kick off our third year together on the best.note.ever.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This was all so incredible, I had to tell someone. At that moment, Buzz Scott had attempted his twentieth video call of the day, and you know what, I picked up because I just had to tell someone what we were about to do.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Unsurprisingly, Buzz Scott didn’t care too much that we were in Amsterdam, but also didn’t seem too concerned that he looked slightly different in real time than in his photos. Lighting makes a lot of difference I guess.</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;">As we ran past the rows of bicycles, I laughed into the phone to him: “We are about to meet someone famous!” …only then did I realize I had blown my cover (OKAY FINE YOU HAVE TO ALSO PRETEND YOU ARE SINGLE. OKAY?) as Jeff waved into the video chat, and Buzz hung up, spelling the end of our friendship.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Here, a few of our better moments, from when it all began..</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: georgia;">To getting to know each other better...</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: georgia;">To when things got a little heated...</span></i></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">We arrived at the central station, hearts racing, and waited, and waited some more, and then suddenly a message from Jesse: he couldn’t meet us. He was actually very busy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Few things make you feel as pathetic as realizing you’ve been waiting at a train station for a famous man who literally wants nothing to do with you, or perhaps took a look at the two excited sweaty perverts awaiting his arrival, did a u-turn and walked off.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">We tried to reason with each other that of course a famous person would never want anything to do with us, as we walked out of the station and past rows of shockingly attractive prostitutes in brightly lit red windows. At least we still had this charming city, with its rich history, whimsical canals, and cute little - </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">then an email notification popped up on my screen. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">It was from the placement agent. The job went to someone else. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This was a job that boasted a salary ten thousand Euros below what I was making before it. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A job that called for a horrible commute. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">And it too, was out of my reach.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">No job, no Jesse, no Buzz.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">We went into a coffee shop where, to put it in the words of a dork I met at a party when I was sixteen: </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“<i>The lady did toketh</i>”. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span><span style="font-family: georgia;">I smoked away my unemployment, my rejection, and yes, to an extent, my memories of Buzz Scott, who was, in all likelihood, beginning a new mission with a new caucasian woman.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: georgia;">First stop: get yourself some slime</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">a few hours in, go look at aliens at Ripley's Believe it or Not</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">We played chess and, as I attempted to mouth the words “I’ll never find a job” through scattered fits of laughter and tears, outside our window men lined up (some with groceries, some with canes) for their turn with the gorgeous ladies of the red light district.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Later that evening, as I had become a new woman (unrestrained, having accepted her fate of forever being an unemployed, rejected loser), sitting on the street curb, we ate smoked hot dogs. It was the kind of eating where you can’t remember if you swallowed the last bite and there’s mustard up your nose and you hope the police don’t come and arrest you for eating the hot dog because you are so stoned and paranoid.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(also get yourself some big meringues)</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Once I had made sure I had in fact eaten my entire hot dog and that it hadn’t rolled off and down the street as I had suspected for the last twelve minutes (or maybe 11 but better say 12 just in case the police ask), I remembered the box of donuts we had bought.</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Banana cream - the way a donut should taste. We ate them too, forgetting they existed the minute they were gone (again, disappearance trail to be confirmed), and as I wiped the mustard/banana situation off my face, my phone lit up again:</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“I can meet you guys after all, if you're still around. Central station.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Jeff and I looked at each other and I don’t remember why, but this was so, so funny to us, and once again, we ran and ran and got to the station, and there he wasn’t, again. Except this time, even that in itself was so ridiculously funny, that we just turned back and started walking out, with me planning the way I would surprise Jeff with the idea of getting more donuts.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“I’m in the burrito shop”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>- Another text from Jesse.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Jeff looked at me with eyes like little red currants, and we both keeled over screaming at the thought of, well, everything.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">If you’ve never been to Amsterdam, you should know the central station is huge and probably has loads of burrito shops, but the one we walked by happened to be the one where, in that moment, Jesse Meester sat, eating a burrito, as promised.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He told us about Darcey, about his PhD in “All of Psychology”, and about his coffee business where he, for God knows what reason, is coming out with a line of espresso. I tried my best to remember what he was saying, and not stand too close, and not talk too much but also talk enough so as not to rouse suspicion (you know, all the things you think about in a normal conversation), and I couldn’t wait for it to end so I could ask Jeff if he could EvEn BeLiEvE ThIs WaS hApPeNInG To US?</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">And then it was over, because we said we had to catch a train because we wanted to seem cool, and Jesse said <i>Aw really? We can keep chatting</i>, and we said something I can’t remember and then we were back out walking on a chilly Amsterdam night, me, jobless, Jeff screaming “Can you BELIEVE it??”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and somewhere out there, my hot dog rolling down the pebbled walkways of Central Amsterdam.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-89012089392016060632018-11-04T09:37:00.012-05:002021-01-20T06:01:09.888-05:00Breaking upThey say a lot of things when your heart breaks. It's better to have loved and lost, you only know what you had when it's gone, it takes time, you have to move on, you don't have to move on, it was for the best, you'll learn from it. <div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My heart broke unbeknownst to me, one fraction of an hour at a time, for years, until I found myself refreshing my email inbox, waiting for something new to appear from him, and slowly realizing that it won't. They say a lot of things when you are mourning the loss of a person you loved, but when you find yourself standing outside the building where you used to work, half hiding, half hoping for a familiar face, where are the words to move on from the people that had become your second family?<br />
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I worked in the same place for eight years. There, we laughed over Star Trek, and cried over boys, and in December, our boss would put on a Santa hat and sing Christmas carols in the lobby even though he was the word's busiest man. There, a donut, from him, sat on my chair if I had a bad day, and a poppyseed bagel with cheddar and tomato was the start to a Monday. There, Eric ran a half-marathon by my side when I was dehydrated. There, Sam and I drank the world's largest peppermint mochas and discussed why Mark's Work Warehouse is actually a respectable store to shop in. There, I fell on the ground in the haunted house we made with Amy, because the garbage bag I wore got in the way. There, we saved a baby bat, and a barbershop trio came in to serenade me, and Shawn took apart a drain pipe because I dropped my ring in the sink, and Scott brought me three hundred empty cardboard boxes when I asked for five, and Julie called me, though she had moved to the south end of the city, to say good-bye. There, love was, in little rays of seven and half hour stretches a day. I never expected this life to mean so much to me still.<br />
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With each interview, there is no one like my boss. With each job offer, I find myself succumbing to the brokenness of a five year old with a lost doll. They say you need to put yourself out there, to give other people a chance, but nothing feels like family anymore, even three years later. I think this is where they would say I'm not yet ready to move on, the way they would had I begun to date again after a heartbreak. I never thought losing a work family could mean as much as it has here, but I am nobody to them now, and I am nobody to the face interviewing me this week. This too, shall pass - they say that, and they are right. One day the memory of everyone will be farther away, I will stop walking by my building, I will not look up at my window, I will not hope to hear from them, I will not wonder if they think of me. Though, as it is when someone breaks your heart, the question never leaving my heart is: when?<br />
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<br /><span><!--more--></span><span><!--more--></span></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-76760836115961578192018-06-17T09:24:00.012-04:002021-01-20T06:01:52.017-05:00Mistress AlisaA few weeks ago, while looking through photographs of fried chicken, I came across an article about how easy it is to make money on Twitter just by being a Financial Dominatrix. Determined to get back to looking at photographs of fried chicken, I didn't give the article much thought, instead skimming through it only to focus on the parts about how you basically just start a Twitter account and apparently some people genuinely just love sending you money. I decided to give it a try because I would be an idiot not to. <div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">
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The first step was to open a new Twitter account, but the Twitter account would have to be linked to a new email account, and that's when I first considered giving up entirely, because there is nothing more boring than trying to come up with a catchy email address. However, I persevered, and came up with a Twitter handle and email address that was a combination of a name I always considered slutty, and, because I'm a sixteen year old boy, the number 69. My profile picture was a stock image of a mannequin with a wig on, which in retrospect would be a bit alarming even to the average sexual deviant.<br />
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I linked my Paypal details to my bio description and perused the profiles of other Financial Dominatrices to figure out the kind of Tweets I would need to put out. I noticed that the trend was to continuously Tweet things like "Pay me, f*ck face" and "Shut up and let me drain your wallet, you pathetic loser", both of which seemed very aggressive, and yet, seemingly worked, as these dominatrices frequently posted screenshots of money appearing in their Paypal accounts. I wrote and rewrote several Tweets, but nothing seemed mean enough, and I finally settled on "Who wants to give me money?" focusing instead on promoting free-will. I got a couple of likes but my Paypal balance remained nil.<br />
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In a bid to not look like a spambot or complete psychopath, I followed a few of the more seasoned dominatrices, and throughout the day, it became clear to me that the money wasn't earned entirely without effort. It appears one must tease one's 'paypigs' (the men who pay) with pics of one's genitals, and that material was widely available for all public viewing. I wasn't expecting to see quite so much of it, but I stayed strong, despite clearly being buried in a sea of women who were willing to do a million percent more than I was. Another thing that should've been more obvious to me but wasn't, was the actual 'dominating' aspect of the whole thing. As it turns out, the men waiting to pay you are also expecting to be humiliated in various..let's call it ...vivid...ways. Some were even asking, in their Twitter profiles, to be blackmailed. </div>
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Then, I received a m<span style="font-family: inherit;">essag</span>e. Someone was asking me if I would do a Skype session where, in exchange for <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">€400 I would be watching them touch their own feet. <i>Well, no harm in that</i>, I thought. <i>You miss 100% of the shots you don't take. Life is a highway. Grab the bull by the horns.</i> Other things I'm sure Wayne Gretzky said. Was it Wayne Gretzky or Bryan Adams? They do look alike, in fairness. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I agreed, and then immediately remembered that my Skype was out of date, and that I shouldn't be using my own account for that either. HOW MANY ACCOUNTS AM I GONNA NEED TO CREATE HERE?? Fine. I did it. A new whorish Skype account too. As it started loading, "Would you like to download the new version of Skype?" popped up. <i>Well, yes. I suppose</i>, I thought, <i>Dad's face has been a bit choppy in our last few calls and I've barely made out the details on mom's spring geraniums. </i>I allowed the program to make changes to my computer, and waited as, miles away, a man was smothering his feet in olive oil. </span></span></div>
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As the update finished, so did my streak of confidence and the belief that I may have an alter ego capable of seeing what I was about to be seeing. I wasn't a Twitter Dominatrix. I was Alisa, and I wasn't okay with watching someone wedge carrots between their toes. Honestly, that's all I hoped it would be, but who knows. (Conversely, maybe it would've never been that at all, and I truly am a sexual deviant and just don't know it.) Anyway, the point is I panicked, blocked him, and logged into my own 'genuine' Twitter account. <i>Oh look, Dave Lackie is doing another Guerlain giveaway and my friend is still working on her PhD. There I am. That's my life. No feet here! </i></div>
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I then decided I was a wuss, and thought of all the things I had started and never finished. Endless to-do lists, goals, sewing projects, photo albums...<i>Just once in your life, would you carry something through to the end? </i> I took out a note pad and attacked this from an anthropological perspective, researching websites, chat rooms, Tumblr accounts, fetish newsgroups, and by asking dominatrices on Twitter how they began their work. I received a total of zero replies. I briefly considered becoming a submissive and paying them for their time, but snapped out of it soon enough. I found a few Youtube instructionals, including one with a middle-aged woman, a cigarette, and a diaper. "The more I dominated, the more I began hating men," another woman confessed. Well, damn. I had a moment's out of body experience where I realized I was alone on a Friday night watching this. Still, I persisted. </div>
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I fluffed up my Tweets with more engaging statements the likes of "Give me money or you will be sorry" which admittedly had much more of a Guy in a Hockey Mask with Chainsaw vibe than Sexy Kitten In Charge, but even those Tweets received more likes than the ones I felt were kind and respectful. I also posted more photos, all of which were dominatrix supplies readily available on AliExpress. Did I remove the AliExpress logo? No. Did they receive tons of likes? Sure did and, consequently, I began receiving more messages. Some were requests for things like having milk poured on them, making them wearing their wives' bras (!!!) and "would you give me the finger while I finish?" (personal fav - would actually love to try sometime), all of which I blocked, realizing that the task of a dominatrix was far greater than what I was prepared to do. Others were conversations that would turn into truly lovely, inspirational experiences (If you're reading this, Big_Gusher_Papi, don't let your Aunt Teresita discourage you from joining the Navy!). One man asked me to only answer "Yes" or "No", as he wanted to reverse our roles. He then said he would take control of my phone and asked me to give him my personal number. I answered "No" (EXCUSE ME FOR FOLLOWING ORDERS SMDH) and was consequently called a horrible (bad word) which, frankly, was unfair. </div>
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Right around that time, on the bus home from work, wearing one of my favourite power suits, I accidentally opened my 'alternate' Twitter account, immediately projecting someone's spread ass out and into the world of my fellow commuters. Throwing my phone into my purse, I had decided that I had had enough. The real question behind my exploratory journey was: how do you become a dominant woman? By the time I could answer it, I didn't want to be one - not in this sense, anyway. No matter how hard I try to overcome my own nature for the sake of what I consider being brave, I just don't have the stomach to degrade another person, regardless of how much they might love it. Since then, I've closed down all of my accounts, and folded away the distant hope and dream of getting money for nothing. Can't say I didn't get anything out of this though - mom's geraniums have truly come in nicely, after all. </div>
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Now, as I find myself still acting like an alien in many situations, I am realizing I never quite shed who I am. Instead, an adult costume now covers that inner dork. Being an adult means getting better at concealing my nerdiness, loving with my guard up, trusting from a distance, with a few slip-ups along the way ("<i>Sorry miss, I think you dropped some loser..</i>"). I haven't changed. I've just become a better actor.<br />
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Last summer, we went to Barcelona for ten days. We stayed at a beautiful modern hotel close to the city centre, which had a state-of-the art gym that I visited strictly one time, and a rooftop pool, which was perfect because the heat in Barcelona makes your brain froth out of your ears. Enjoy that visual and happy new year. </div>
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We did a lot of sight-seeing: the Gothic Quarter, some galleries, some markets, the beach, a labyrinth in a park (nerve-wracking if you can't find your way out) and some restaurants, including one so tiny that it only fit about fifteen people standing, and made tapas on demand, using really unique combinations like caviar, artichoke, chestnuts, and brie. The result looked like this:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDQW83chPLm4qJbHq_KeGAcnEb9vxqcUwn0h57jb5OecM-M5Txs8v8J92QLi19PT20_PCCS0e9Jr59OV-zLi8BywL6QT4O8XsZHdRX_D8KXs7navBdejgPJGiGVNvtCij1waAHFiun9d4/s1600/1.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>Quimet & Quimet is definitely a must-try in Barcelona but be prepared to queue for a while to get in!</td></tr>
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We also saw a Flamenco show which left me speechless and empowered, so if you happen to love loud abrasive sounds and the thought of revenge, I would highly recommend you go to one - yes, even in the tourist areas. We saw a few Gaudi-designed buildings, some surreal architecture, and The Sagrada Familia, proudly featured in a 3D virtual experience 'ride' we later 'experienced', which was actually a history lesson about Spain, which really pissed me off. </div>
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Here it is, in real life:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiM-EVZoX7E4pXD_0ov1JgEUoy4YglY7D9OrgJUZfnpfP_E6Lwu2qOZ1ydCyRpr64_QZtxpkYqJPrkyFtIsdt4nvqP0Jyh1RTUFVjvs5wgpJ3c6OQbLjBs5IHB-pLJl0ObUhOHLnXjzIE/s1600/5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiM-EVZoX7E4pXD_0ov1JgEUoy4YglY7D9OrgJUZfnpfP_E6Lwu2qOZ1ydCyRpr64_QZtxpkYqJPrkyFtIsdt4nvqP0Jyh1RTUFVjvs5wgpJ3c6OQbLjBs5IHB-pLJl0ObUhOHLnXjzIE/s640/5.jpg" width="435" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjahAti2B0rnmEi62xoqTgSdVGpkt-VV51g1tCB8fxBJMRy-buK2TTYQHAy1WlupHhHzAAOJdPymNydolaRDjhkHtLBqk37aEJvAPbBlgBI-Nbu1iVxRekG_CGjzqCj_QC1VPzm-2ILeag/s1600/2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjahAti2B0rnmEi62xoqTgSdVGpkt-VV51g1tCB8fxBJMRy-buK2TTYQHAy1WlupHhHzAAOJdPymNydolaRDjhkHtLBqk37aEJvAPbBlgBI-Nbu1iVxRekG_CGjzqCj_QC1VPzm-2ILeag/s640/2.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our hotel had a beautiful lobby with lots of books about murder and animals doing weird things.</td></tr>
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On our last day, I found myself alone by the pool, tanning, when a family arrived and quietly unfolded their towels on loungers nearby. A boy of about eight years old sheepishly pulled off his t-shirt and immediately looked around at the empty loungers surrounding us. I was wearing my sunglasses and it seemed to reassure him that I wasn't there. He got up and looked around again, then put on his diving goggles and very delicately slipped into the water. He was little, but much bigger than most boys his age would be, and his frequent nervous glances around the pool, though it was empty, seemed to indicate that he was aware of this. </div>
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"I may sit on the lounger for five minutes but I also want to keep swimming," he said to his parents with a Scottish accent. Neither of them looked up but his father grunted something with annoyance.</div>
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I watched the boy and wondered if his face, too, had once met a schoolyard fence. Had he, too, written valentine's day cards To Mother? He wore a mask to dive for treasure in an empty pool - had he, also, been happily trapped in a fantasy world dooming him to a childhood of freakishness but one ultimately so much more brilliant than the bleakness of public school pain?</div>
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He swam from one end to the other, then stood up and cupped his little boy breasts, ones most little boys his age wouldn't have. He swam again, then stood up, his belly bobbing with the water, and began singing to himself. It was a slow song, one most little boys his age wouldn't sing. He waddled over to the glass at the edge of the wall, softly patting and caressing the waves he left behind, and looked out at the sky. "I was wondering where the planes go," he said, turning to look at me through foggy rubber goggles, "But now I see them, lowering, by the horizon". </div>
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His eyes cut through my costume, until he was speaking to me. Not me, bleached hair, bronzed legs, but little me, the one I suffocate each day under the layers of my years. He watched me, instead seeing his own reflection. I wondered what our eyes, fixed on each other, were to others: a boy standing alone in shallow water, an adult woman crying through sunglasses, under a Barcelona sun. </div>
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LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661921189051321088.post-46730609473951627012017-09-26T15:44:00.005-04:002021-01-20T06:18:38.937-05:00Today I am Thirty OnePreface: I am going to illustrate the ideas in this post with stills from my all-time favourite <i>90 Day Fiancé'</i>s Beth and Danielle, because I can.<div><b><br /></b>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLltcdW-WlH3u9wHgUu_0uGM2ARJI-H7KmdrtX3gwOY-q1IQBkslh4s3ureQ5R-8twYZcm9I3L7foWz-4BQiHqy3AAsaLDuqDKFswvbku6uL6QDBnZj8_youu5aAKMfcJ_G4wLbsgGRtY/s1600/beth7.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="687" data-original-width="1241" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLltcdW-WlH3u9wHgUu_0uGM2ARJI-H7KmdrtX3gwOY-q1IQBkslh4s3ureQ5R-8twYZcm9I3L7foWz-4BQiHqy3AAsaLDuqDKFswvbku6uL6QDBnZj8_youu5aAKMfcJ_G4wLbsgGRtY/s400/beth7.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Have you ever climbed on one of those foam mats at the pool, trying to stand on top of the water? If you're lucky, you'll balance for a few seconds, and in that moment, the rush of defying the seemingly impossible is unlike anything your seven-year-old self has ever experienced. <i>MOM MOM MOM MOM ARE YOU WATCHING? MOM OH MY GOD MOM </i><br />
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Today I'm 31, and I feel like I'm back on that foam mat, with my immediate life beneath me as I balance, balance, balance. I've spent this past year - the first of my thirties - solving a Rubik's Cube comprised of the challenges of living abroad and trying to understand oneself in the process. Funny how the effects of leaving a career, familiar environment, and even part of yourself behind can back you into a corner like high school bullies. <i>Who are you now? What are you doing? What do you care about?</i> Redefine, redevelop, and balance - there is no escape and there are no distractions.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE0S6kpcOwVIhcz0GNYox2AKhBhvJo40Wm-vvKXznASSeialzeyKzYuIr3BJdbqJvRuXo92MMi7VQZT6M7la1SALtmWsG3Xk1N9gkwJp5zk7clcmZoVpv0MfHYYA9LT_9le5afMjAJCpg/s1600/danielle7.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="705" data-original-width="1210" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE0S6kpcOwVIhcz0GNYox2AKhBhvJo40Wm-vvKXznASSeialzeyKzYuIr3BJdbqJvRuXo92MMi7VQZT6M7la1SALtmWsG3Xk1N9gkwJp5zk7clcmZoVpv0MfHYYA9LT_9le5afMjAJCpg/s400/danielle7.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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My goals for this 31st year of my life (or I suppose 32nd year actually..yikes) are to create familiarity in the unfamiliar, comfort in the foreign, and positivity in the chaos. <i>(side note: Blogger doesn't recognize the word positivity. Who invited Negative Nancy to the potluck?)</i> More specifically, I'm gonna try not to burst into flames/tears every time I come home from yet another interview where they showed up twenty minutes late and rolled their eyes as I described my Canadian work experience and the bus driver drove past me laughing and my bank account is down to a two-digit number.....because there are things you don't have control over, and they are not worth sweating.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qBGRbJR26Z6RFRUTVY7IeFF-nSBIdad6ajitZtpHen1hDgHzyIdlfSIuqTtr1DLMacFjMOHQ5LI6eG8gjFrwcx_VgOVsPy2SDDwYcuE9SgGaCssefoJ-qW73_gFx-TELe4qUoSH8IL4/s1600/beth12.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="1084" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qBGRbJR26Z6RFRUTVY7IeFF-nSBIdad6ajitZtpHen1hDgHzyIdlfSIuqTtr1DLMacFjMOHQ5LI6eG8gjFrwcx_VgOVsPy2SDDwYcuE9SgGaCssefoJ-qW73_gFx-TELe4qUoSH8IL4/s400/beth12.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Every year on my birthday, I try to encapsulate my most prominent ideas for the off-chance that they may be important to remember down the line as the years flash by. Some years it's about cake and other years end up being a bit more reflective. The past few months have been incredibly challenging but in the process, I had a thought that helped calm the death-metal festival into which my stress has manifested in my brain: Find something you love about today, then find something you love about tomorrow. Learn to be grateful for those things- I'm pretty sure that's all life is about.<br />
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Well, that and flying to Vegas in a private jet... ayyyyyyyy<br />
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</div><span><!--more--></span><span><!--more--></span><span><!--more--></span><span><!--more--></span></div>LittleMyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678420965016832673noreply@blogger.com0