tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58462142024-03-18T02:13:15.856-04:00rockle-riffic - managing mischief since at least 1974"With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy." -- Max Ehrmannrocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.comBlogger1158125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-90627315606825112932015-02-22T18:35:00.000-05:002015-02-22T18:35:12.823-05:00Notorious NPHIt's Oscar night (I think there's supposed to be a "™" or maybe an "®" in there somewhere), and as per usual for the last ten years or so, I am unprepared.<br />
<br />
As a former (recovering?) film student, I take the Oscars very seriously. Perhaps too seriously, but what can I do? I love the movies, always have, and -- this is the part that has become the most important to me now, in my "advanced" age -- I also really, really enjoy watching people wearing clothes that cost more than my house.<br />
<br />
Also: Neil Patrick Harris. I will watch anything he is in (and I actually HAVE, since I watched <i>every. single. episode.</i> of <i>How I Met Your Mother</i>).<br />
<br />
So help me, I am a bonafide red-blooded American woman, despite all my attempts to avoid becoming such a creature for basically my entire life. I'm a stereotype. I make no excuses.<br />
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Used to be, back in the days when we were still dating, G and I would go out of our way if necessary to see all the nominated films. It was easier when we were in college and they would show movies on campus for $2. The hardest part about seeing Oscar movies back then was coming up with the $2. Then we got engaged and got jobs and got married and got a mortgage and got a kid ... and now we barely have time to change our underwear, let alone carve out countless hours to spend at the movies. (I won't even mention that $2 no longer buys a soda at the movies any more -- hell, you care barely get a movie theater box of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wneCa_yIuzg" target="_blank">Junior Mints</a> at Target for less than that.)<br />
<br />
ANYWAY.<br />
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I'll spare you all the long and boring details (TOO LATE, haha sucker!) and just get to the part I think you're waiting for anyway: "So, which Oscar-nominated movies did you actually see this year?" And perhaps as a corollary: "What did you think of them?"<br />
<br />
Here you go. This is the entirety of the list of Oscar movies I've seen this year.<br />
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<ul>
<li><i><b>Boyhood</b></i>. I honestly can't say enough good things about this movie. It's the best movie I've seen in a long time, perhaps ever. Go see it and get back to me. (You can probably still get it at Redbox, which has been a godsend to patient cinephiles with nice TV's at home.) Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke were both beyond fantastic in this movie. I never really gave much thought to Richard Linklater's films (not usually my thing), but I have since reconsidered. I think it would be super if this wins Best Picture, as it is expected to. I usually root against the frontrunner, but I can't in this case.</li>
<li><i><b>Gone Girl</b></i>. We liked this one well enough. I'd read the book before we saw the movie; my husband didn't. I was not a particular fan of Rosamund Pike in this movie, but I'm not sure it's her fault; could have been the character. Ben Affleck was perfect, which are words I never thought I'd ever say.</li>
<li><i><b>Into the Woods</b></i>. It was pretty much exactly as I expected it to be. G and I both liked it (me more than him, but that's because he is not always hot to trot on musicals). Chris Pine was a revelation and probably the second-best thing in this movie after James Corden. Maryl Streep absolutely DID NOT deserve a nom for this; they gave her one anyway because she's Meryl, and that's bullshit.</li>
<li><i><b>Big Hero 6</b></i>. Highly recommended. Will be picking up the Blu-Ray on Tuesday. Okay, Shae? Can we stop with the civil disobedience now? Jesus Mary and Simon Peter. Mommy and Daddy can sometimes bend the laws of physics and space-time, but we just don't have the power to make Big Cinema do what you want it to.</li>
<li><i><b>How to Train Your Dragon 2</b></i>. Liked it. Basically The Empire Strikes Back, but with, y'know, cartoon dragons. My husband and I very much enjoyed playing our favorite game of "Name That Voice" while watching.</li>
<li><i><b>Maleficent</b></i>. Yes, this movie got nominated for an Academy Award -- for Costumes, but you know what? An O is an O. It was fine. I like watching Angelina Jolie chew the hell out of some scenery.</li>
<li><i><b>Guardians of the Galaxy</b></i>. My favorite movie of the year, but I am biased because I love Chris Pratt so hard right now. Not the best movie of the year, but my favorite. Already own the Blu-Ray, and already watched it at least six times. No regrets.</li>
<li><i><b>The Lego Movie</b></i>. Nominated for Best Original Song for "Everything is Awesome" which you are probably singing right now. I am disappointed that this movie didn't get nominated for Best Animated Feature because I thought it was the best animated movie of the year (and I am absolutely in the bag for Disney).</li>
<li><i><b>X-Men: Days of Future Past</b></i>. Liked it a lot, but thought Peter Dinklage was criminally underutilized.</li>
</ul>
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That's it. Eleventeen hundred nominated movies, and I've seen nine of them. I suck. I can't make predictions in any categories because I haven't even seen enough to clips to guess what way the Academy might want to go. Although I can say this: I really hope that J.K. Simmons wins for <i>Whiplash</i> -- a movie I haven't seen -- and I hope that Michael Keaton wins for <i>Birdman</i> -- again, a movie I haven't seen -- just because I like those guys a whole lot and want them to have lots of success and stuff.</div>
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And if Meryl wins again? I'm flipping a table.</div>
rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-29653258975158313282015-01-31T10:38:00.000-05:002015-01-31T10:39:28.449-05:00Can't Talk, EatingHey, look! Two blog posts in the same calendar month! One month into 2015, and I'm still keeping one of my actual, CURRENT-YEAR resolutions! Go me!<br />
<br />
Plus, this post is going to be about MULTIPLE resolutions at once. I win at ... <i>something</i>.<br />
<br />
Anyway. When last we spoke, I mentioned a bunch of "<a href="http://rockle.blogspot.com/2015/01/as-if-we-never-said-goodbye.html" target="_blank">guidelines</a>" that I set for myself for this year and I am happy to report that I have been hard at work at #5 especially. Now that I have a semi-regular schedule (i.e., I work most days and am almost always home by 4:00, so I have time to make "real" dinner instead of just throwing random assorted frozen things on the table), I have been trying to expand my repertoire in the kitchen. I mean, I think I'm a pretty good cook anyway, but it never hurts to improve.<br />
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This means -- pretty much as I predicted -- that I'm experimenting a lot more frequently with recipes I find on Pinterest. And so far, I've found one that has been an absolute, unqualified slam dunk, and so I am sharing it here.<br />
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But first (OF COURSE), a story, which begins thusly: <i>I just CAN'T with pancakes</i>.<br />
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I mean, I love pancakes. LOVE THEM. That's the problem. One is never enough. <i>Three</i> are usually not enough. Add in butter, syrup, etc., and I end up feeling fluffy and sluggish for the whole day. (Carbs!) But I love them, and my daughter and husband love them, and I feel so ... <i>difficult</i> when I make them for everyone else, but don't eat them myself. Difficult, and sad. Everyone else has a plate full of golden-brown hotcake deliciousness in front of them, and I'm eating a sad little serving of scrambled eggs.<br />
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Enter the cream cheese crȇpe.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/16353082911" title="trying something new: cream cheese crêpes with (fancy!) blueberry preserves. by Rachel Gonzales, on Flickr"><img alt="trying something new: cream cheese crêpes with (fancy!) blueberry preserves." height="400" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7289/16353082911_a0f083db5c.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This recipe has been floating around Pinterest for a while, usually under something like "low-carb pancakes." I tend to stay away from recipes like that, because many low-carb recipes out there contain ingredients I can't eat or don't like -- almond flour (allergic), coconut oil (not worth the cost, I don't think), Stevia (ick), erythritol (what?). But I found one that has two ingredients, both of which I (1) recognize and (2) have in my house.<br />
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Cream cheese and eggs. That's it. <i><b>WHAT?</b></i><br />
<br />
Believe it or not: these are GOOD. I don't know what kind of culinary alchemy makes cream cheese and eggs (plus a little bit of vanilla extract, which I add, because I never follow recipes exactly) turn into something that tastes almost exactly like pancakes when you pour the batter out of a blender, but HELLO LOVER.<br />
<br />
I made these for the first time about a week ago, and they were good. I was not 100% satisifed with how they turned out -- I had trouble getting them to come out "pretty" -- but they tasted fine, and instead of syrup, I only needed a little bit of topping. In that first batch, I only used three half-teaspoons of blueberry preserves (half a teaspoon on top of each crȇpe), and it was enough.<br />
<br />
But, as I said, I wasn't completely sold. They were good enough, but not perfect. Something wasn't quite right. I needed a second taster to try these and guess what was wrong with them, or tell me I was bananas for liking them so much, or something.<br />
<br />
We tried them again this morning, and this time they were an unqualified success. My husband declared this recipe "a keeper" -- and I'll agree, especially because I figured out what was wrong with the last batch.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/15789939603" title="made cream cheese crêpes again. you should too. they're amazing. by Rachel Gonzales, on Flickr"><img alt="made cream cheese crêpes again. you should too. they're amazing." height="400" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7304/15789939603_7a69465a46.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Here's the recipe: 3 ounces of softened cream cheese (lowfat cream cheese [American Neufchâtel] will work just fine) and 3 large eggs (or equivalent -- I used 2 medium eggs and 1/3 cup Egg Beaters). That's all. I added about 1/4 teaspoon of vanilla extract, but you don't need to. Mix in a blender or Magic Bullet-type device, then pour onto a heated griddle or skillet. You'll get 6-8 crȇpes from this recipe, depending on how big you make them. They'll be thin -- they're crȇpes, after all -- but they taste like pancakes (somehow!) and satisfy that craving. I don't know how, but they do. Magic, maybe?<br />
<br />
When I made this batch, I put about half a teaspoon of preserves in the middle of each crȇpe and then rolled them up, with a little extra of the top, and a squirt of whipped cream to look pretty. They tasted AMAZING, even better than last time, when I used all Egg Beaters.<br />
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And now I can have pancakes with everyone else. THE END.rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-5777200805826671092015-01-03T21:52:00.000-05:002015-01-03T21:52:54.367-05:00As If We Never Said Goodbye<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Forgive me, Internet people, for I have sinned. It has been 420 days since my last confession.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/16104217102" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="my christmas "elfie" got photobombed. by Rachel Gonzales, on Flickr"><img alt="my christmas "elfie" got photobombed." height="320" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7522/16104217102_bea72d74f2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>There is <b>literally</b> no reason for this picture to be here ... and yet, here we are.</i></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(No, wait: that’s not true. It’s been 17 days since my last confession -- yes, </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">really!</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> -- but it’s been 420 days since my last blog post, which is what I really mean. Or, at least, that’s all you care about, anyway. Which is </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fine</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, because nobody cares how often I go to confession. Except </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">maybe</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> that poor priest who had to hear my first actual confession in 15 years. But he’s not allowed to rat me out, so you’ll just have to sit there and stew in your own juices and wonder what I had to confess after all that time.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">[Okay, fine. Can’t have you all worrying about me since it’s been so darned long. I’ll give you the short version, which is basically what I gave that priest, anyway: you know those Commandment thingies? I broke just about </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all of them</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> except the ones about murder and adultery. I’m also pretty sure that I committed all of the Cardinal Sins, too, especially gluttony. I mean, Meghan Trainor might be all about that bass, but my “good-butt” jeans are most decidedly not.]</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">{Oops, there I go busting out the Pride already. But trust me: I still fit into these pants right now, and I intend to keep it that way, and if that’s sinful pride (prideful sin?), so be it.}</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gaaah, that’s a </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">lot</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> of parenthetical-type markings at the beginning of a blog post. ANYWAY. The point of all of this is to say that one of my resolutions for 2015 is to post more often. You know: like, more than once every 1⅙ years.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">INCIDENTALLY, if you happened to find yourself wondering what I did during my mostly unintentional (yes, really!) hiatus, allow me to direct you to my </span><a href="http://instagram.com/rockle" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Instagram</span></a><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><a href="https://twitter.com/rockle" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Twitter</span></a><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> feeds. If you don’t know what those are (hi, Mom!), then let’s just say I spent a lot of time having something vaguely resembling a “normal” life, reading everything I could get my hands on, and trying to figure out (1) what in the Dickens my kid means when the words come out of her mouth and (2) where in the Dickens she picks these things up, anyway.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh, and I stopped being a grad student and became an actual, real-life, certified teacher of 7th-12th grade English Language Arts in the state of Pennsylvania. I have all kinds of paperwork to prove it and everything (including the student loan bills). They’re somewhere in this house, anyway. I can tell you where my </span><a href="http://instagram.com/p/owMqOhGLYu/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">diploma</span></a><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is, at least. Which, if you know anything about my life, is definitely progress. Victory in our time!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anyway, I fully intend to get back to business now, beginning with my New Year’s resolutions. Except: I don’t really “do” resolutions, really. I mean, I make them, just like everyone else, but I also break them pretty easily (see: my attempts to learn to make a flaming dessert, which have been ongoing for approximately </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">eleventeen years</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> at this point).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But now that I’m mumble-something years old, I’ve finally gotten around to realizing that broken resolutions aren’t really fractured promises so much as they are detours -- or maybe I mean “scenic routes.” Sometimes you have to break a resolution in order to find out if it was one worth making in the first place. So I guess what I am saying is that I plan to make these resolutions more like guidelines (not unlike recipes and speed limit signs).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here they are, in no particular order:</span></div>
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<li dir="ltr" style="list-style-type: decimal; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Blog more often.</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (See paragraph 5, above … the one after the {squiggle brackets}.) This one is self-explanatory and doesn’t require any clarification; yet here I am, writing at least one whole additional compound-complex sentence about it, including a properly-placed but entirely gratuitous semicolon.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Treat myself better.</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Not necessarily in a “splurge” sort of sense (although I do intend to at least </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">try</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to get massages and pedicures more often), but more in the “give myself at least a small break once in a while” kind of way. Stop beating myself up for small mistakes and lapses in judgement. Wear my “good-butt” jeans just because. Have an extra pudding cup because I want to.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Take better care of myself.</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Again, not the usual “stop eating food that tastes good and work out 4 hours a day.” I’m 40 years old -- it’s okay, I’m fine with it, really -- and I’ve been on a diet for, like, 39½ of those years. That isn’t what I mean. (Although I </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">do</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> need to lose weight and exercise more.) Of course I’ll refocus my efforts on eating healthy food and not having </span><a href="http://calvinandhobbes.wikia.com/wiki/Chocolate_Frosted_Sugar_Bombs" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs</span></a><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> for dinner four nights a week. But I should also get a mammogram and a Pap smear and maybe some baseline blood work to make sure that my blood isn’t made up of 75% bacon grease. And I should definitely check in with a therapist for a tune-up.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Keep learning.</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> One of the things that I learned (or that was reinforced) while I was in grad school was how much I love to learn new things. I completely changed careers and lines of intellectual inquiry, which was so revitalizing for me. I know I was annoying, and I appreciate everyone who tolerated (and continues to tolerate!) my insufferable excitement. But I know I’m not done learning, and I want to keep learning something new every day.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Try new things.</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> This is, of course, related to “Keep learning” -- but the differences between those two resolutions are vast. It’s one thing to know who The Doctor is, but something altogether different to experience Doctor Who. I like to know what my students are reading, but it’s important to also read those things as well. Knowing and understanding are not the same, and unless I try to apply the things I have learned, my “personal education” will always be incomplete. (This might mean that I make more Pinterest recipes or try again to tackle </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Don Quixote</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">; hard to say how this one will pan out. Hopefully this will give me plenty of things to blog about this year.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So. I guess I’m back. And already it’s as if we never said goodbye. (Probably because we didn’t, but still.)</span></div>
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rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-42684356829948868722013-11-08T16:39:00.000-05:002013-11-08T16:39:37.563-05:00Happy Halloween (A Little Late) (Okay, A LOT Late, Shut Up)Here are some pictures of our trip to Hersheypark in the Dark. It was awesome, as you can see.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/10501545364/" title="photo.JPG by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="photo.JPG" height="320" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7315/10501545364_f3b559f814_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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This costume turned out to be one of Shae's better ideas -- and, yes, it was hers. She wanted to be "Bad Sandy" from <i>Grease</i>. I drew the line at the leather pants because I am decidedly anti-yeast-infection. She really looks like a generic "Pink Lady" but with her particular hair and the faux-pleather jacket it's pretty easy to make the connection. (She's also on record more than once as being dressed as "Lela" from <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2325989/?ref_=nv_sr_2" target="_blank">Teen Beach Movie</a></i>, if you're into that sort of thing.)<br />
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Movin' up in the world! Last time I took a "<a href="http://rockle.blogspot.com/2009/07/hersheypark-happy.html" target="_blank">you must be this tall</a>" picture at Hersheypark, Shae was a Hershey's Kiss (36" to 42" tall). Now she'd be a Twizzler (54" to 60" tall) if she'd stand up straight. I am not complaining, because I got to avoid roller coasters for most of the day by claiming height restrictions. We'll see what happens when we go back later this year, around Christmastime.<br />
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It's much more funner to be at Hersheypark when you're with other kids -- Shae had a "ride buddy" for most of the day. By the time my niece is finally tall enough to go on the big kid rides and coasters with Shae (in approximately 2025), I'll be able to just hang out in the Food Court, as God intended parents to do.<br />
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Yes, we had a costume change in the middle of the day. My niece went to participate in the <a href="http://piratebootyfitness.blogspot.com/2013/11/hershey-park-kids-fun-run.html" target="_blank">Hershey Half Marathon Kids' Fun Run</a> and while we were already in the parking lot, we switched over to warmer clothes and more comfortable (read: not school) shoes.<br />
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We stayed out until dark, which we've never done at Hersheypark before. Granted, we normally go in the summertime, when it doesn't get dark until 10pm instead of 6pm, but still. Shae was even going to get a chance to go on a coaster with her Daddy, until it started to rain and all the "good" rides shut down. (Her word, not mine.)<br />
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A (mostly) good time was had by all. (And of course there was free candy, which never hurts.)rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-89391826097582834352013-10-25T13:23:00.000-04:002013-10-25T13:23:45.315-04:00Children of the Candy CornEarlier this month, we took a seasonally appropriate trip to the pumpkin patch to go ... pumpkin patching, I guess. Is there a verb for what one does in a pumpkin patch when one is not Courtney Stodden? (Don't run out and Google "Courtney Stodden pumpkin patch," okay? Trust me on this one.)<br />
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This is what you wear to the pumpkin patch when you're my kid: a Halloween-themed T-shirt that is maybe but not quite too small, but still big enough to wear in public, generally speaking; pieces of not one, but TWO years' worth of Halloween costumes over capri pants, because hey, why the hell not; an assortment of LiveStrong-style bracelets from only God knows what organizations (I think one of them might say "Got Milk?"); and one leg warmer as an arm cover.<br />
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Oh, and let me take this opportunity to point out that it was in the mid-70's that day. So, you know.<br />
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The short version of the story is that those tiny little pumpkins were a huge hit. Also the gourds. I am a fan of gourds, and I have to say that the kids all had an excellent eye for nice, nubby, grotty-looking gourds that look positively fantastic in a nice arrangement that my husband made at home in a pretty red bowl. LOOK AT THAT: married almost fifteen years, and I am still learning about his special skills.<br />
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Perhaps unexpectedly, my favorite part of this pumpkin patch trip was traipsing "through the corn maze" -- a/k/a looking for Indian corn. The kids found some pretty Indian corn, too, and we let them run around in the cornfields for so long that I'm pretty sure we had them convinced that they were actually in the corn maze that was advertised in great big letters all over the place. (I don't "do" corn mazes, because with my luck I'll get stuck out there forever and they'll need to call out the National Guard to find me and it will be too late because Voldermort will have already ported me away to Little Hangleton and I think it's possible at this point that I might be getting my pop-culture references confused again.)<br />
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SPOILER ALERT: There were pony rides. There are ALWAYS <a href="http://rockle.blogspot.com/2010/10/shoot-horses-with-zoom-lens-dont-they.html" target="_blank">pony rides</a> at these things.<br />
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Shae did end up finding us a lovely pumpkin that she and G carved up the very next day, and which ended up in the trash already because hey did you know that fresh pumpkins can get all gross and moldy and "smell like the cat's butt"? Trust me on that one, too: we learned that the hard way.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Special thanks to Anthony's mom for letting me us his picture. Thanks, Anthony's mom!</i></span></div>
rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-14633369734777219372013-10-18T14:16:00.000-04:002013-10-18T14:17:43.138-04:00Flashback Friday!UGH. It's mid-October, rushing headlong into LATE October already, and I haven't put up any pictures in 5,000 years because of reasons (mostly involving ways in which I suck). So today let's celebrate "Flashback Friday," where in this case we'll be flashing way the hell back to ... late August.<br />
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OF COURSE there was a slip-and-slide involved. Why wouldn't there be? It's not like we were at my uncle's house, in his backyard, where there is an in-ground pool with hot tub, or anything.<br />
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Isn't it kind of amazing how slip-and-slides are, like, the great social equalizer? I mean, sure, they're plastic-coated death traps, but have you ever met anyone who didn't have a great time at an event that featured a slip-and-slide?<br />
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I, personally, have not. I wish I had [1] a bigger yard and [2] actual water pressure so that I could put a slip-and-slide in my own backyard during the summer. I mean, we love watching "Adventure Time" while sitting in front of the giant-ass window air conditioner and eating popsicles, but sometimes you need to go out and make your own adventures, you know?<br />
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GUH, just looking at this pictures reminds me of how much I miss the summer already, and we have another nine months until it comes back around. This summer was weird, hot in the beginning and cool at the end and many kinds of sinus headaches in between, but the worst day of summer is still better than the best day of any other season except possibly my kid's birthday.<br />
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Okay, and maybe Christmas. I like Christmas. And Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving, too. Which reminds me: I just learned about bacon vodka and I am thinking about making bloody Marys to have with my Thanksgiving dinner that I'd make with our traditional V8 and bacon vodka, if I can find any. Doesn't hat sound delightful?<br />
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SHUT UP YES IT DOES. A bloody Mary made with V8 and bacon vodka sounds like Thanksgiving dinner in a goddamned glass. Veggies, bacon, and alcohol, all in a Dixie cup? That there equals ZERO clean-up, and if I have TWO I'd be asleep on my uncle's couch before everybody else even got home from the football game.<br />
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I also like Halloween, because I love Reese's peanut butter pumpkins. Although I will admit that, except for possibly pumpkin pie, which I adore (just the the crust -- only the pumpkin custard and whipped cream parts), I am kind of over pumpkin everything right now. But pumpkin-shaped chocolates? Yes please.<br />
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So here we are, face to face, a couple of Silver Spoons ... no, wait, that isn't right. Here we are, all caught up. Ish. I have more pictures to put up but I need to ease myself into it. For now, just enjoy this little flashback to the Last Major Federal Holiday. Hopefully this will be enough to get you through until next time.<br />
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(Oh hey I just realized there are no pictures of me as usual but I wanted to prove that I was participating in the festivities. So, [1] you can either pretend those pictures of my sister are actually me, or [2] you can enjoy this screen print of a Twitter conversation I had with an actual NPR personality. Your choice.)</div>
rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-58273730651577507562013-09-20T15:04:00.000-04:002013-09-20T15:04:07.783-04:00Coast of CarolinaOh yeah ... vacation. We've been home for more than a month, so it's probably time to put some pictures up, isn't it?<br />
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Truth be told, I haven't written about vacation yet because I'm practicing my usual Zennish strategy of better living through denial. It's like, if I pretend that vacation isn't over yet, then it isn't.<br />
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It was our usual family vacation: a chaotic mess of early rising, child limbs, Crocs, pancakes, ice cream, tantrums, Disney movies, mismatched outfits, and missing pacifiers -- and that was all on the first morning.<br />
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The weather wasn't the greatest, too hot the first few days and almost too cold after that, and the ocean was cold even by my standards (in the mid-60s, which -- look, I can tolerate A LOT, but I draw the line at hypothermia on vacation, you know?), but we barely even noticed, to be honest.<br />
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All the kids were just phenomenal. My sister's boys get more awesome every day, my niece is just the bee's knees, my kid was fairly well behaved most of the time ...<br />
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... there are even a couple of photos with ME in them, for a change, although let's be honest here and admit that I have GOT to learn how to pose so that I don't look like I'm made up of, like, 75% boobs and back fat.<br />
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I always hesitate to say that I can't wait to do it again, because that's such a gigantic understatement. I'm ready to go on vacation again pretty much the second we get in the car to come home. If I ruled the world and could do whatever I wanted, I'd arrange it so that we could all be together whenever we wanted, always.<br />
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Are we going back there, to the coast of Carolina?<br />
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As soon as possible.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">PS - If you're interested in seeing ALL my vacation photos (all the good ones, anyway), you can view them <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/sets/72157635119072662/" target="_blank">here</a>, including the Instagrams. If I can figure out how, I'll add my sisters' pictures, too.</span>rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-61325086451283823692013-09-11T10:31:00.003-04:002013-09-11T10:31:50.354-04:00Wordless Wednesday: Sunshine on a Cloudy Day<div style="text-align: center;">
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rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-51674325919340397242013-08-28T12:01:00.001-04:002013-08-28T12:01:51.863-04:00Simple ManI don't talk about my husband much here except tangentially, partly because he doesn't really like me to, but also because <i><b>I</b></i> don't like to. He's my best-kept secret, and like all good secrets, it's probably for the best if I don't go on about him overmuch.<br />
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But today is his birthday, so I'm making an exception. (Also, I didn't get him a present yet, so ... here you go, babe.)<br />
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I have said before, and I will say <a href="http://rockle.blogspot.com/2010/04/eleven.html" target="_blank">again</a>, <a href="http://rockle.blogspot.com/2013/04/fourteen-ivory.html" target="_blank">how</a> <a href="http://rockle.blogspot.com/2008/04/lets-stay-together.html" target="_blank">lucky</a> I am for having my husband for a partner and spouse. I will shout it from the hills, the treetops, the dunes, the cliffs, wherever -- I am <i>so damned lucky</i>, and <i>I know it</i>. Literally my only complaint about my husband, the only "real" one, is that <i>I have absolutely no complaints</i>. He is one of those rarest of specimens: a true and good and simple and uncomplicated man, <i>a true and good and simple and uncomplicated person</i>, someone I am proud and honored and thrilled to be able to swear my allegiance to, someone who still drinks the same beer he drank in college.<br />
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That's not a backhanded compliment, either: that's high praise, coming from me. I am a cynic and a drama queen and a neurotic overthinker and a compulsive oversharer and kind of an asshole, and I honestly believe that there is nothing in the world more wonderful, more beautiful, more perfect, than having something or someone in your life who is true and good and simple and uncomplicated. And he is mine, <i>all mine</i>.<br />
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We have known each other for 20 years now. More than half our lives. We were children then, college sweethearts, and we have grown up together. He and I have been through so much in that time: graduations, mortgages, unemployment, infertility, adoption, marriages and divorces of dear friends, deaths of pets and grandparents and parents -- he has been my rock and my happy place through all of it. He'll still slow dance with me if "our song" comes on at parties, at receptions, in the middle of the mall. He still kisses me goodbye every morning before work, and he still kisses me goodnight every night before bed. True and good and simple and uncomplicated.<br />
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He softens my edges and quiets the voices in my head. He washes the dishes, folds the laundry, makes the bed, sets the alarms, fixes the computers, changes the litter, stops the insanity. He encourages me, holds me, woos me, reassures me, laughs with me but never at me. True and good and simple and uncomplicated. He is my Benedick, my Han Solo, my Sundance, my yin, my constant. Without him, I am nothing. I am because we are.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9611991479/" title="1994. by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="1994." height="320" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7334/9611991479_9de839b1b9_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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And we are because he is. Because he is <i>everything</i>. It's a lot of power and a lot of responsibility, but he is just the kind of man who can handle it. True and good and <a href="http://youtu.be/Ud2NcV1oo-0" target="_blank">simple</a> and uncomplicated.</div>
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Happy birthday, G.</div>
rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-29714348207637644742013-08-27T10:03:00.000-04:002013-08-27T10:03:03.166-04:00I Am The Worst #SorryNotSorryMY GOD. I am <i>terrible</i> at blogging, which is probably why I'm <i>never</i> going to get a gajillion dollar book deal like Lena Dunham or Aziz Ansari. (Also, they're talented, and I'm ... <i>whatever I am</i>.) You could sue me over the lack of updates, but remember that I'm a broke-ass graduate student with basically NOTHING except a 12-year-old Volkswagen with 185,000 miles on it. Good luck with that.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9453794967/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="320" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7415/9453794967_f1a7cab96b_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Pretty much everybody else in the entire blogosphere (<i>is that still a thing, even?</i>) is doing back-to-school posts this week, but Shae doesn't start school until the Wednesday after Labor Day -- next week -- so I'll take this chance to let you know what we've been up to since mid-July when I posted last, and then I'll put up first-day-at-her-new-school pictures when they're taken, and then I'll probably forget I even HAVE a blog for, like, <i>eleventeen weeks at a time</i>. Again.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9453820107/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3794/9453820107_389663bc16_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I mean, <i>I</i> went back to school this week -- my last semester of classes before student teaching, <i>I'm scared, hold me</i> -- but Shae is basically off having adventures with assorted relatives until next Tuesday. Yesterday and today she's with my mother-in-law, getting unauthorized haircuts and mani-pedis and stuff like that, while I'm freebasing caffeine because I'd forgotten how INSANE it is to get up at 6:00 in the morning and got to work and then go to class until 9:30 at night and THEN try to drive home without crashing into a cornfield/cow pasture while driving through the dark, quiet Butter Valley. That is <i>a long-ass day</i>, people.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9453808645/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5506/9453808645_4a56bdf4f1_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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But, you know, honey badger don't care. Tonight we're going to see her for a very short while before we shuffle her off to the next volunteer, who has been threatening for <i>months</i> to take Shae fishing. That ought to be interesting, because my kid has the same attitude about creatures with fewer than two and greater than four legs that I do (i.e., <i>ewwww!</i>). Then tomorrow night she'll be staying with my parents, who have a tent in the backyard and hopefully gallons of DDT, because the mosquitoes love my kid this year.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9429244373/" title="vacation-ready. by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="vacation-ready." height="320" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5475/9429244373_34cc8b2c59_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I miss her <i>desperately</i>, you know. And I'm so very, very jealous.rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-31388718474110869382013-07-13T10:20:00.000-04:002013-07-13T10:20:39.715-04:00[ Something Witty Should Appear Here ]AAAAUUUUGGGGHHHH.<br />
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It's hot and humid and I have a sinus headache and my kid is watching some trippy "educational" programming on HBO that involves talking dancing shoelaces (!!!) and I have an 8-page Canterbury Tales paper due at 3:00 on Monday and my brain is basically completely fried.<br />
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So here: have some random, almost completely decontextualized pictures!<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9188746010/" title="Barbaric Yawp by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Barbaric Yawp" height="256" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7430/9188746010_10ab4e185c_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is from before 4th of July. I may be alone in this, but I think there is basically nothing in the world more adorable than a wet child in neon colors who smells of Coppertone and chlorine screaming for joy. This is pretty much my happy place, right here. The only thing that would making this picture better, IMNSHO, would be if (1) this were my own kid, and (2) neons were not involved. I lived through the original mid-1980s neon fad, and I am not so excited about this day-glo revival, because I have eyeballs, and I'd like to keep them.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9188761866/" title="Chillaxin' by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Chillaxin'" height="213" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2850/9188761866_a5b3c54e65_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I would like to find the bozobrain who taught my kid the word "chillax" and punch them in the neck (unless it's a kid, in which case I'd like to punch his parent in the neck). Otherwise, camp has been a rousing success so far -- even though (1) Shae doesn't quite understand the words "boa" and "constrictor," although she DOES understand the concept of one, and (2) this picture was taken at my grandmother's.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9185971747/" title="Bubble: 2013 Edition by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Bubble: 2013 Edition" height="213" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5330/9185971747_eb43be4a6b_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This bubble is approximately 8,000 years old. Shae used to wear it. Of course, I can't find pictures of Shae wearing it because I never tagged any photos or blog posts with "bubble."<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9220159215/" title="Deal Me In by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Deal Me In" height="213" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5452/9220159215_bdc3434159_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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These pictures are actually from July 4th. And, it's a good thing my sister is teaching my niece to play pinochle now, at a very young age, because I am 39 years old and I still don't know how to bid. I am basically the world's least competent card shark. (I'm great at spades, though.)<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9222954880/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7450/9222954880_f2f5769209_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9220164171/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="320" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7411/9220164171_19d1779f1a_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9220173787/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3679/9220173787_ba2400529c_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This what July 4th looked like -- an ENTIRE DAY of my crazy kid being crazy. It was pretty awesome, actually, although it was too damned hot.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9222945274/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="320" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3752/9222945274_894b002272_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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I included this picture for no particular reason except that I love these two.rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-35941368136721151082013-06-29T09:13:00.000-04:002013-06-29T09:13:23.305-04:00The Life Aquatic with Boo ZissouI make no secret of the fact that summer is my favorite season of the year: long days, grilled food, iced tea, fresh lemonade, freeze pops watching fireworks, catching fireflies.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9114689965/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3777/9114689965_e6f6f070cc_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I am not really the sort of person who loves strenuous activity -- I'm a Taurus, after all, and we are better known for our love of sensuous things like basking in the sun with a good book and an icy cold beverage -- but even I can appreciate the well-earned kind of exhaustion that comes from a day spent playing cards, chasing the kids through the yard, getting sticky from eating juicy watermelon in the grass.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9116933598/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7295/9116933598_2db478ff79_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>
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And, of course, the pool. We all already know that summer is Shae's favorite time of the year because she has pretty much unfettered access to an assortment of swimming pools.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9116945496/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2825/9116945496_cd2df4a7d1_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>
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Summer is our happy place. There is a specific set of smells that makes me unbelievably, almost intoxicatingly happy. I catch a whiff of it sometimes when I hold my niece these days. I smell it on Shae every day when she comes home from camp. It is a combination of things that signifies summer and instantly transports me to a time when I was a kid myself.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9114755799/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7407/9114755799_b2c851aa34_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>
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Chlorine and Coppertone. Add in some bug spray and nail polish remover, and it's like a drug for me. It's a high that's can't be matched by legal or illicit pharmaceuticals of any stripe. It just ...<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9116968046/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5345/9116968046_e0202ec00f_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>
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... it's what summer IS.rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-65752234680886092702013-06-24T08:28:00.000-04:002013-06-24T08:29:17.563-04:00Graduation / Recital WeekendShae graduated from kindergarten on June 14th. I've been trying to write about it since then, but I haven't really been able to, because this happened ...<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="225" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/68977298" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe></div>
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... and it promptly (and repeatedly) made me lose my ever-loving shit.</div>
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"Tomorrow" is <i>totally my jam</i>, you guys. It is dorky and irrational and whatever, but this song has gotten me through SO MUCH in the last 39 years. I saw "Annie" on Broadway way back when I was somewhere around Shae's age, and it's stuck with me all that time. Formative years, and whatnot. "Tomorrow" is not just adorable when sung by a bunch of adorable little moppets -- it's practically <i>anthemic</i>.<br />
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No, seriously. I know my soul has become blackened and singed and poisoned with snark over the years (SPOILER ALERT: this is what happens to optimistic idealists who forcibly become cynical realists over time) but when stuff is bad, I mean REALLY bad, I still stick out my chin and grin and say, "The sun'll come out tomorrow." It doesn't make everything better, not right away, but it keeps me from self-medicating, a lot of the time.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9050352048/" title="Mid-Performance by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Mid-Performance" height="320" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5486/9050352048_f490374019_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Related: had I known that the class's performance was going to be SO MOVING (shut up I'm a sap we all know this already don't you judge me), then I would have left her hair in its natural state, because COME ON. Her curls are PERFECT for singing songs from "Annie."<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9047858955/" title="Kindergarten Graduation 2013 by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Kindergarten Graduation 2013" height="320" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3722/9047858955_285130e6e7_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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They are not quite as perfect for fitting under a graduation cap, however. (I just realized I never posted any pictures from last year's preschool graduation, probably because we had that tragic, tragic haircut and then we left pretty much right away for Chicago, but <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/7443397050/" target="_blank">here's a link</a> for reference. We have about 33% fewer teeth this year, not that you can tell, but we're offsetting that by about 500% more hair, so I'd call that pretty much a wash.)<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9050426050/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="320" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7394/9050426050_4a6a22ecc7_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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As if graduation wasn't enough of an emotional wringer, Shae's first official dance recital was they very next day. She's already been in a Christmas pageant of sorts, but this was the first Big One: costumes, lighting, tickets, flowers, etc. Her class danced to "I Feel Pretty," which was another emotional rollercoaster for me, because one of the greatest times of my life was being in <i>West Side Story</i> in college, so of course the entire thing was fraught with DRAMEMORIES!<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/9055346968/" title="prima ballerina and adoring public. by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="prima ballerina and adoring public." height="320" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5489/9055346968_7e2ca33279_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Everybody came to see her -- mother-in-law, parents, my sister and niece and even my brother-in-law -- so my kid was pretty much over the moon about all of the attention. She's already talking about next year. We ordered official pictures and the performance DVD and whatnot, and I'll figure out how to include that stuff later without violating copyrights (no lie, I am SCARED of the lady who runs the dance school and I DO NOT want her to come after me), but here is a little behind-the-scenes footage in the meantime:<br />
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(By the way, ALL the girls in her class did that, for 45 MINUTES, while they were waiting to go on in the second half of the show. I got dizzy just watching them.)</div>
rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-87531825867007077282013-06-11T15:34:00.000-04:002013-06-11T15:34:20.795-04:00Adventure TimeShae has a bunch of stuff coming up this week that is probably a much bigger deal to me than it is to her: first flat-ironings, dance recitals, graduation, stuff like that. Milestones are kind of meaningless when you're six and your whole life is literally ahead of you. Of course, I'll be a total cracked-out mess, as usual, with all the pictures to prove it. In the meantime: a story.<br />
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We don't watch a lot of superhero shows in our house. We're not really opposed to them, in theory, but Shae is highly suggestible and we're just trying to be proactive about any potential behavioral changes that might result from exposure to stuff she's not ready for. Others probably call this a symptom of the "pussification" of our children; they're probably correct to a large degree. But at the same time, these Others don't have to live with a kid who thinks that all adopted children -- e.g., Superman, Hercules, the Power Puff Girls -- have either super powers or Daddy Warbuckses.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8849502750/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5445/8849502750_836c826729_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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But like every kid ever born in America ever, my kid is at least aware of your major superheroes. Batman, Iron Man, Wonder Woman, etc. It might be a while before she understands why <a href="http://www.celebrityworkoutdiets.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/Hugh-Jackman-Wolverine-Muscle1.jpg" target="_blank">funny sideburns and yellow Spandex</a> sometimes makes Mommy weak in the knees (by the old gods and the new, I hope this remains the case), but she knows who the X-Men are. And she already knows that when she grows up, she's going to be the superhero who saves everybody, "not just some silly boy who only saves the pretty girls with down hair."<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8848905475/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7284/8848905475_b54a51462d_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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So why is this blog post all pictures of my niece running around my uncle's back yard wearing a scarf around her neck, superhero-style?<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8849543310/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="320" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5327/8849543310_2d6d1d46b0_n.jpg" width="213" /></a>
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Because more than once, when someone asked her who she was pretending to be, while she was doing this very thing ...<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8849552768/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3737/8849552768_db63490d3b_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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... my niece said, "Super-Shae!" And Shae would reply, "Makayla is my hero." And they were both right.rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-10405138559842751512013-06-06T05:02:00.002-04:002013-06-06T05:02:54.008-04:00Sum-Sum-Summertime!These pictures are from Memorial Day Weekend, which is of course not technically summer, but it is unofficially the beginning of the summer picnic-watermelon-outdoor-swimming-corn-on-the-cob-festivity season.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8849587700/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7375/8849587700_7249aec9aa_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8848975445/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3745/8848975445_2d14d34ff9_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8848982011/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2819/8848982011_99019a9218_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>
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Go ahead, guess which of these hyphenates are most important to my kid?<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8849580974/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7434/8849580974_4caf5aab8b_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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It's been a weird spring so far -- nice, but cool at night. My uncle the Picnic Master opened his pool the first weekend in May, but temperatures went down into the 40's a lot of nights until about two weeks ago. Thankfully he has the hot tub, and once my kid got in there, there was no getting her out.<br />
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Except to go off the diving board. Mad props to her, too, because the water in the main pool was only about 64°F. But she passed her "big kid" swimming class, and now we'll let her go into the deep end without an adult present (although someone needs to be nearby to watch her). You'd think someone gave her a million dollars and a free puppy.</div>
rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-35763819300714382482013-05-31T22:55:00.000-04:002013-05-31T22:55:23.594-04:00Night at the Musuem 2: Battle of the SmithsonianOr, in other words, a round-up of the rest of the Washington photos.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8795085280/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3818/8795085280_88e0f6f861_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Of course we went to the Museum of Natural History. All the cool stuff is there. (Well, all the cool stuff that isn't in the Air and Space Museum or the Museum of American History or any of the other Smithsonian museums.)<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8784527855/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8394/8784527855_8c41a6a8cc_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I dig this stuffed lion, because it looks like he has armpit hair.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8784535057/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="320" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7320/8784535057_987f4c8c24_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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"Mommy, I don't think I want a hippopotamus for Christmas any more."<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8795119050/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8402/8795119050_7b4c623f23_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is the part where you're supposed to see all these cool pictures of gorgeous jewelry. But they didn't work, so instead, here's a picture of some kind of gilded butterfly brooch that is probably worth more than my house, my parents' house, and my entire family's houses combined. Hope it's worth it!rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-83891127778031155882013-05-29T12:57:00.000-04:002013-05-29T12:57:55.318-04:00The Washingtonienne(You know what? <i>The Washingtonienne</i> is a terrible book. Don't read it. It's so bad I'm not even going to link to it. You can Google it if you want to, but don't say I didn't warn you. Nevertheless, it's a perfectly fine title for a blog post about my female child in D.C., so I'm using it.)<br />
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We're a month back from Washington and I already have pictures from Memorial Day weekend in my photostream, so it's time to get back to the action, no?<br />
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The day after we went to the zoo -- the same day my sister ran the <a href="http://piratebootyfitness.blogspot.com/2013/04/we-run-dc.html" target="_blank">Nike Women Half Marathon D.C.</a> -- we slept in until the absolutely ungodly hour of 7:30 AM, and then we wandered the National Mall looking for the Au Bon Pain that the "Around Me" app on BOTH our iPhones kept promising was only 0.25 miles away. "We'll see what we can see before we stop for lunch," we said.<br />
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We headed around the Tidal Basin and stopped to visit the Jefferson Memorial, my second-favorite monument in D.C. We were too late for the <a href="http://www.nationalcherryblossomfestival.org/" target="_blank">Cherry Blossom Festival</a>, unfortunately -- that ended about two weeks before we were there, because apparently I am incapable of scheduling my life around anything I actually want to do -- but you know, the entire Mall is quite lovely at that time of year, and since it was a Sunday morning, we didn't have to compete for photo opps with field trips.<br />
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This is just proof that I do stuff besides stand around for 45 minutes trying to frame up the best possible pictures. Sometimes I spent 45 minutes walking around buildings making someone else frame up the best possible pictures.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8784420993/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="213" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8538/8784420993_24eb745c48_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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"Look, Mom! President Obama lives there!" (Waves furiously, I guess at the snipers on the roof? IDK.)<br />
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The way we walked, our next monument was the FDR Memorial, which is my very favorite place in D.C. It's very zen there, all water and copper and pretty dark stone, and I love it. Especially this statue, which features the dog ...<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8795016550/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="320" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8537/8795016550_ac064a2f3f_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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... and this staute of my homegirl Eleanor, which I actually DID wait about 45 minutes to get a picture of, because there were a whole bunch of tourists who kept walking into my shot, right up the statue, to LICK it. Seriously, WHO DOES THAT? This statue is OUTSIDE, and hundreds of people touch it every day. GROSS.<br />
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"Mommy, can you see if the brakes are on?"<br />
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The last time we were in D.C., the MLK Memorial was not yet erected. It is really quite something else, although I will never understand the choice of materials here. (You can link to whatever sources in the comments if you want, but I still won't understand the logic.)<br />
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The Lincoln Memorial is my third-favorite. I don't really know why I like Jefferson better -- I think it's the shape and the location. The Lincoln Memorial just seems so ... somber, maybe? More hallowed? Something. There are "ghosts" in there, is what I think I am saying.<br />
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(Incidentally, this was my first trip to D.C. with a good camera. That shot? Is all camera, except for cropping. I love my Precious.)<br />
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Another 45-minute setup, because there was open space, and BY GOD, this kid was going to RUN AROUND. I am not one of those people who puts "harnesses" on their children, but I can sometimes kind of see the point.<br />
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Under construction. (Renovations? Repairs?) Still damned impressive.<br />
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At this point she was trying to figure out how to fish change out of the Reflecting Pool so that we could go get something to eat. And to tie everything back to the Au Bon Pain - it isn't there. Or, at least, it isn't where the app told us it would be. We spent another hour or so looking for all these restaurants that Around Me kept saying were nearby -- 0.15 miles, 0.07 miles, 500 feet, 100 feet -- and it finally took a leap of faith and a DESPERATE need for a public restroom for us to discover that all the eateries were actually in the food court of the federal office building across the street from the aquarium in the Department of Commerce building.<br />
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No, I don't know why the aquarium is in the Department of Commerce building. I'm sure it made sense to SOMEONE at SOME POINT.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8689477228/" title="in a station at the metro. by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="in a station at the metro." height="320" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7046/8689477228_eab2ef301e_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8690505106/" title="smithsonian carousel. by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="smithsonian carousel." height="320" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8266/8690505106_b76ac63a70_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The other big bits of excitement on that day were that we got to ride (1) the Metro and (2) the Smithsonian carousel. Which, after 6 hours and approximately 5½ miles of walking around, are all she remembers anyway.rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-5338367601582324282013-05-22T14:45:00.000-04:002013-05-22T14:45:35.321-04:00Miss Thing Goes To WashingtonAm I the worst blogger ever? Probably. Because it's been almost a month since we went to D.C. for a little long-weekend mini-vacation, and I am just now posting the pictures. I mean, my sister was there at the same time (although for somewhat <a href="http://piratebootyfitness.blogspot.com/2013/04/we-run-dc.html" target="_blank">different reasons</a>) and she had her posting up right away.<br />
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tl;dr version: YES I KNOW I SUCK AT MY OWN LIFE. Don't you judge me.<br />
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<i>Anyway.</i><br />
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We wanted to go to D.C. because it's close and relatively cheap and there are lots of things to do that are kid-friendly. Especially if your kid is like my kid, who managed to find pretty much an infinite number of sources of amusement, and who has pretty much demanded that we go back there sooner rather than later. I love D.C. -- G and I went there on our first "couples trip," way the hell back in 1994 for Spring Break, when our coupledom was still in its babyhood -- and we try to get there as often as possible, which is unfortunately not as often as we'd like.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8685508525/" title="among our own kind: wild animals. by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="among our own kind: wild animals." height="320" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8539/8685508525_143ffc05f2_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>
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OF COURSE we went to the zoo. Are you new here? We <a href="http://rockle.blogspot.com/2012/03/what-happens-in-pittsburgh-ends-up-all.html" target="_blank">always go</a> <a href="http://rockle.blogspot.com/2012/07/zooropa.html" target="_blank">to the zoo</a>. Everybody always goes to the zoo in D.C., because the <a href="http://nationalzoo.si.edu/" target="_blank">Smithsonian Zoo</a> is rad and has pandas and stuff. Duh.<br />
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<i>(BTW, I would like to interrupt this long-overdue blog post to complain about the new Flickr layout, because it stinks out loud and I hate it. What was wrong with the way things were, Flickr? Or, in your own parlance: CHG T BCK!*)</i><br />
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Since my sister and brother-in-law were in Washington at the same time, we got to hang out with my niece, who is seriously one of my three favorite kids in the whole wide world who aren't my own kid, and I'm pretty sure I would say that even if we weren't already related. Although the fact that she is the spit and image of my baby sister (except with adorable little toddler legs) certainly doesn't hurt.</div>
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(Which is not, by the way, meant to imply that my sister doesn't <i>also</i> have adorable legs, but, y'know, she's over 30, so I figure she now officially no longer qualifies as a "toddler," even though I still think of her that way sometimes because she will always be my baby sister.)</div>
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While we were at the zoo, we saw the usual assortment of wild creatures, including some kind of alligator thingy that just lay there basking in the sun like he was auditioning to be my spirit animal or something. (Because, I mean, is there anything I like better than lying in the sun? Only possibly lying in the sun with bacon and a bloody Mary, maybe.)**<br />
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Also, we saw an unimpressed orangutan, sitting up there in his little tower, silently (but visibly) judging us.<br />
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Kid is all, "Pshaw! I'll show you unimpressed."<br />
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BUT! We also saw young cheetahs playing with a ball in their pen, and according to my kid this was approximately THE GREATEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED EVER LALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU. I mean, seriously, she <i>still</i> talks about it. Ask her what her favorite part of the D.C. trip was, and she'll tell you, "Oh, that time! When the cheetahs! Were playing! With the red bouncy baaaaaaaaaall!"</div>
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I don't know where that kid picks up some of her more melodramatic behaviors. I really don't.</div>
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But this was probably my favorite part of our visit to the zoo: getting to see my husband's face when he gets to spend time with us, with basically no schedule, itinerary, or agenda. (He and I had dinner reservations to celebrate our anniversary, but if we really needed more time at the zoo together, we would have cancelled them [even though I am glad we didn't, because that lobster ravioli was DIVINE]).<br />
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Oh yeah, we also did the typical dork tourist thing, which will never not be awesome.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>* "CHANGE IT BACK!" with the vowels deleted because Flickr is missing an "E" ... get it? Ha ha?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>** I am not joking when I tell you that I spent approximately 45 minutes on that paragraph, trying to make sure that I was using lay vs. lie and its various conjugations correctly. Grad school and studying for the PRAXIS have ruined me forever.</i></span></div>
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rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-32294126351702397612013-04-24T13:30:00.000-04:002013-04-24T13:30:00.879-04:00Fourteen / IvoryFourteen years, four addresses, three cars, three cats, one mortgage, and one kid later ...<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8676038995/" title="scan by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="scan" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8264/8676038995_750bc90849_m.jpg" width="160" /></a></div>
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... and I am still <i>literally</i> the luckiest woman alive.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8676036311/" title="Cake by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Cake" height="160" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8124/8676036311_058a640390_m.jpg" width="240" /></a>
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Happy anniversary, babe. I love you.rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-6417909808995518752013-04-15T12:36:00.001-04:002013-04-15T12:37:32.665-04:00Happy Family-versary (Again!)I know how most people feel about Tax Day, but it's different for us. It's a happy occasion, because on this date all the way back in 2009 (is really four years ago already? is it really ONLY four years ago?) <a href="http://rockle.blogspot.com/2009/04/just-like-starting-over.html" target="_blank">Shae's adoption was final</a>, and the three of us became HER plus two old dorks lugging all her crap around. Or, in other words: A FAMILY.<br />
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We've been having a hell of a time lately, our little family. Growing pains, mostly. A whole bunch of nonsense and foolishness and trying to figure things out. This stuff happens in families. We have our moments when shift schedules and uncertainty and grad school and sleep deprivation and things unnoticed at the time kind of all sneak up on you on roller skates and whomp you over the head and make you PAY GODDAMN ATTENTION.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8647013476/" title="i got a brand-new pair of roller skates, you got a brand-new key ... by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="i got a brand-new pair of roller skates, you got a brand-new key ..." height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8532/8647013476_8da94fe473_m.jpg" width="240" /></a>
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This, too, shall pass. And in the meantime, we have each other.<br />
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I read somewhere that nothing in the world can make a person crazy like a family can. I can't remember who said it -- Dave Barry or Erma Bombeck, probably. The more you love your family, the worse it is. That is not a complaint, really, but a fact of life. You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both. There's a time you've got to go and show you're growing.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8623963473/" title="recital preview! by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="recital preview!" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8104/8623963473_54ea331873_m.jpg" width="240" /></a>
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I complain sometimes about the problems I have, the guerrilla wars I stupidly throw myself headlong into for lack of anything better to do, but the truth is: I have it good. I have it better than most. I have a husband I love and who loves me, we have a daughter we both adore, and whatever stupid thing we're going through right now, we're going through it together, and we'll come out the other side together, and maybe we'll all be bruised and banged up, but we'll heal. Together.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8582693068/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="160" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8099/8582693068_d19f6644ed_m.jpg" width="240" /></a>
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Happy Family-versary, you guys. I love you. And I promise: someday we'll look back on this and laugh. (We might need a drink or twelve first, but we'll laugh eventually.)rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-19850383684353277592013-04-01T07:31:00.000-04:002013-04-01T07:31:00.566-04:00Now We Are SixI may or may not have been saving that blog post title for the last five years, one month, and seven days. I can neither confirm nor deny. (But you already know it's the truth, anyway.)<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8608506852/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8246/8608506852_59c42b6659_m.jpg" width="160" /></a></div>
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"'What day is it?'<br />
'It's today,' squeaked Piglet.<br />
'My favorite day,' said Pooh."<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8608514546/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8521/8608514546_bbf2286029_m.jpg" width="160" /></a></div>
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"'When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,' said Piglet at last, 'what's the first thing you say to yourself?'<br />
'What's for breakfast?' said Pooh. 'What do you say, Piglet?'<br />
'I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?' said Piglet.<br />
Pooh nodded thoughtfully. 'It's the same thing,' he said."<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8607400033/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="160" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8106/8607400033_67ccd4e41e_m.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That's why we call it the present."<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8608510224/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="160" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8521/8608510224_0bb9c6c3e4_m.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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"If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you."<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">-- All quotes by A.A. Milne</span></div>
rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-78871626805910988472013-03-23T07:15:00.000-04:002013-03-23T07:15:36.759-04:00Something FishyHey, you guys remember that I have a kid, right? Probably not, because I haven't posted pictures of her in approximately forever.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8546619294/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8243/8546619294_25956480dd_m.jpg" width="160" /></a></div>
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There she is. She's about a hundred feet tall now.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8546628344/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8234/8546628344_2cf08745d0_m.jpg" width="160" /></a></div>
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We've only had one or two days of nice weather since the beginning of winter. This has been, like, a nuclear winter or something. It's awful. We're losing our minds.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8546634470/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="160" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8090/8546634470_4bd52835cc_m.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Which may explain why we're making a fish mouth while we're sticking our face through the eye hole of a giant metal fish statue at the fish hatchery.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8549288366/" title="SMG 03-2013 by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="SMG 03-2013" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8531/8549288366_da175d803f_m.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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I keep trying to remember that Shelley poem, "Ode to the West Wind": If Winter comes, can spring be far behind?<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8549303117/" title="DSC_0580 by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_0580" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8109/8549303117_5ce047bd4c_m.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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We're all skeptical, but DEAR GOD I HOPE SO.</div>
rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-20174657534509606182013-03-04T10:37:00.000-05:002013-03-04T10:37:32.427-05:00Ciao, Principessa<div style="text-align: center;">
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We've known it was coming. Hallie was nineteen, and all skin and bones, and last week we found out she had lymphoma, and I had a panic attack when I realized that I would have to do this with only a handful of pictures, because she was a diva who hated having her picture taken.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8527255885/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8390/8527255885_b58af042f6_m.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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She was my mother-in-law's cat first, a comfort animal, adopted not long after my father-in-law passed. Then she was my husband's pet: my husband offered to cat-sit when my mother-in-law went on a two-week vacation to Germany, and Hallie had been with him, and us, since. Although my husband was always her favorite, and I could never really get over it, not even after fourteen years of marriage, five addresses, two "siblings," one overly rambunctious child who absolutely adored her, and a partridge in a pear tree.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8527270651/" title="Untitled by r_ockle, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8110/8527270651_8682ef4300_m.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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She is already missed. My kid is having a meltdown -- she is much more aware of what's happening this time, and she has sadness and anger that she can't process, because she doesn't have twenty-odd years of therapy experience, like I do. And for my husband and me, <a href="http://rockle.blogspot.com/2010/03/godspeed-little-man.html" target="_blank">this</a> will always be difficult. This will never not hurt.</div>
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Goodbye, Hallie. Say hi to everyone for us.</div>
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rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-61025138775592178692013-02-08T09:52:00.002-05:002013-02-08T09:57:02.635-05:00Where Have You Gone, Joe DiMaggio?<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last time I blogged it was Christmas Eve and I said I'd "see you in a few days" which was obviously a LIE because here were are nearly at Valentine's Day and I am just finding time to blog again. I mean, unless your definition of "a few" equals "39," I am a LIAR and my pants are on FIRE.</span><br />
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I mean, COME ON, I don't even think people are on "Survivor" island for 39 whole days, not even if they <i>win</i>. (Although if anyone asks, go right on ahead and tell them that's where I've been, okay? I have a buff. It's a good cover story.)</span><br />
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By the way, I make no excuses for my disappearance. I've been busy, just like everyone else, and if I'd like to keep my head firmly affixed to my person and not all explodey like the Death Star, then I needed to prioritize stuff, and between school and work and child and husband and eating and breathing and occasionally sleeping, unfortunately blogging fell to the bottom of the list. I hope to rectify this situation, but I am taking nine credits this semester, so <i>maybe</i> don't hold your breath?</span><br />
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(Here's how bad it is right now: I originally wrote "I've been <b>busty</b>, just like everyone else" in the previous paragraph, and I ALMOST LEFT IT IN BECAUSE I'M NOT SURE I EVEN HAVE READERS ANY MORE, and I figured if I was going to keep getting weirdo spam comments in my inbox, it might as well be for an interesting reason.)</span><br />
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(Also, before you even ask, smoking falls under either "eating" or "breathing" and I DO NOT WISH TO ENTERTAIN YOUR COMPLAINTS.)</span><br />
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(Sorry about being all shouty already. Long week, and they're calling for another Snowpocalypse or whatever we're calling it this year, and I'm pretty sure I'm not prepared, although we do have a new next-door neighbor with a snowblower, so there's that, at least.)</span><br />
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ANYWAY. Even though I haven't been writing, I have been trying to take photos whenever I can. Mostly they've been cell phone shots (I got a <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8308251150/in/photostream" target="_blank">fancy new camera bag</a> for Christmas and I have maybe taken a dozen pictures since because BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSY!) but at least you can see what we've been up to.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8323294318/" title="snow angel by r_ockle, on Flickr"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="snow angel" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8492/8323294318_55b27f2167_m.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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It snowed a couple of times. Nothing major, but enough to at least attempt snow angels, anyway.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8326848303/" title="IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME by r_ockle, on Flickr"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8499/8326848303_34b8bf5ec8_m.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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Andy Reid finally got fired, and so now at least we no longer have the #occupyfireandyreid movement taking up what little of my free time still exists. (I'm sure it's only a matter of time before the #occupyfirechipkelly movement begins.)</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8339268409/" title="toothless. by r_ockle, on Flickr"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="toothless." height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8352/8339268409_1f77ed68fb_m.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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We lost some more teeth. And, I mean, this happened so long ago that the permanent are already almost in and knocking some OTHER teeth loose. The Tooth Fairy is going broke.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8403970492/" title="new swimsuit! by r_ockle, on Flickr"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="new swimsuit!" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8097/8403970492_6be8914e1b_m.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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Swimming lessons started up again, with a new swimsuit to boot. (And we've grown so much ALREADY that this suit almost doesn't fit any more, so thank God for Costco.)</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8405785059/" title="i wonder if my husband knows our 5-year-old proposed to one of her classmates via crayon drawing. by r_ockle, on Flickr"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="i wonder if my husband knows our 5-year-old proposed to one of her classmates via crayon drawing." height="99" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8362/8405785059_65193b9b6a_m.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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My kid proposed to a boy in her Kindergarten class via crayon drawing on the back of a receipt. He accepted, but they have since called off the engagement. (I think. I'm honestly not sure what's going on there. It's like "Dallas" or "Dynasty" in the classroom. KIDS!)</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockle/8430716792/" title="glockenspielier. by r_ockle, on Flickr"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="glockenspielier." height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8331/8430716792_f47b8f6348_m.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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I discovered that my kid (1) knows what a glockenspiel is, and (2) can play it (sort of). Of course she was the best glockenspielier at the Kindergarten concert (and also the loudest). Apparently next year they learn to start reading music (something that I never really managed to do, even after all those years of chorus and musical theater), and the kids get to start thinking about whether they want to play an instrument.</span><br />
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(Is anyone surprised that my kid wants to learn to play the drums? I didn't think so.)</span><br />
<br />rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5846214.post-25485272657303382682012-12-24T13:29:00.000-05:002012-12-24T13:29:32.432-05:00Nuttin' For ChristmasMerry Christmas, Internet.<br />
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See you in a few days.rocklehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00666217858869960421noreply@blogger.com0