tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48400178700779632672024-03-05T07:01:19.405-08:00Somewhere That's Green: Reasons Why I Love My HusbandJLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.comBlogger188125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-73576183678701623882015-06-19T11:23:00.001-07:002015-06-22T05:58:53.024-07:00#188 He Encourages Change<div id="AOLMsgPart_2_bc1d30da-9ee0-43b9-b15a-d44664488ed3" style="font-family: arial, helvetica; font-size: 13.3333330154419px;">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today I write my final reason for why I love my husband. Though my posts will no longer be introduced in this manner, the reasons will continue on because, in case you haven't noticed, the reasons I love him are endless.<br /><br />It is my husband who has really pushed and encouraged me to finally make the switch to merging my two blogs into one. Though this doesn't seem like a major ordeal (and in the <b><a href="http://www.gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2015/06/187-he-watches-movies-with-me.html" target="_blank">grand scheme of things</a></b>, it isn't) there were so many decisions I needed to make that at least five or twenty times I firmly decided I was done with blogging altogether.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The problem with that is, I love to write. Blogging has become a way for me to get my thoughts out of my brain. It has become a way for me to create and to push myself to create even when I don't want to. The back and forth of managing two different blogs, one about everything under the sun and another extremely specified, became too much and I knew it was time to either scrap it all or come out with a fresh new perspective.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I do so hope that you enjoy the new blog I have created. If you have been a follower of <a href="http://www.gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Somewhere That's Green</b></a> or <b><a href="http://www.theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The Orange Strainer</a></b> I hope you'll visit my new blog and grow to love it even more.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Visit <a href="http://therealjersey.com/" target="_blank"><b>The Real Jersey</b></a> to discover just what this new blog is all about. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16087452200" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="first home by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="first home" height="299" src="https://c2.staticflickr.com/8/7473/16087452200_1755372fcc_z.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first home, 2007</td></tr>
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-29994970034923631312015-06-08T16:12:00.001-07:002015-06-22T06:05:46.755-07:00#187 He Watches Movies with Me<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Liam Neeson in Schindler's List" src="http://terrymalloyspigeoncoop.files.wordpress.com/2014/03/schindler-s-list-original.jpg?w=580&h=326" /></div>
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I have had great difficulty summoning the desire to blog.<br />
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Whew, that was hard for me to admit.<br />
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Let me clarify.<br />
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There have been many blog worthy events and many mental sparks of "I'll blog about this later" that have occurred over the past month. Some of which include our Memorial Day weekend trip to Virginia Beach, the most amazing donut place I have ever been to in my life, and our 8th anniversary celebratory dinner. However, a few things have been holding me back.<br />
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Initially what paused my writing was this personal notion that my blog needs to undergo some changes. I have been hoping to give my blog a face-lift by combining both of my blogs into something fresh and even better than before. A name change combined with a search for what my mission as a blogger is have had me stumped for a few weeks now.<br />
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However, it was last weekend that really shook me, tugged at my hair, looked me straight in the eye and told me it was time for more than simply cosmetic changes.<br />
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With the exception of Christmas movies, it isn't often that Hubby and I use our movie time to watch a movie we have already seen before. There are so many new movies out there, so many movies just waiting for us to enjoy them, that we run out of time to revisit old ones. There are certain classics that will creep their way in once one of us has mentioned to the other a few dozen times that we want to watch them again.<br />
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I had been mentioning to Hubby a few movies of a certain genre that I wanted to watch.<br />
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He dubbed last weekend "Jewish weekend" and we watched all of them. Friday night we watched "The Pianist", Saturday we watched "Fiddler on the Roof", and Sunday night we watched "Schindler's List". If you haven’t seen any of these movies, make it a point to watch them soon. Here is just a brief glimpse:<br />
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In The Pianist, Wladyslaw Szpilman, a Polish Jew, a once famous Pianist, finds himself alone in hiding. As a musician, I can’t fathom the torture Wladyslaw Szpilman felt to be hidden in a room with his instrument but to have to remain completely silent for fear of the Nazis finding him. To be so close to something he loved, yet to have to suffer starvation and cold alone, without even the warmth of his instrument to comfort him.<br />
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Tevye, the much loved character for which Fiddler on the Roof was almost named, gives us a cultural understanding of the ways of the Jews. Traditions aren’t merely something a few generations followed, but rather all generations. We watch Tevye humanly question God, and then saintly trust in him. <br />
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In Schindler’s List, Oskar Schindler transforms from being a member of the Nazi party and an industrialist out to earn all he can for himself, to a man giving up everything in order to add another name to a list of Jews to be released from a concentration camp.<br />
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Since last weekend, I have been unable to shake this lingering feeling of shame towards the selfishness and self-centered expectations that continue to pollute our society. I find myself disgusted with the fact that I spend my time more interested in blogging about food and travel than in writing about ways to better help mankind.<br />
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As I watched the unforgettable final scene of Schindler’s List, where Schindler is suddenly gripped with sorrow over the realization that he could have saved one more life, maybe ten, I couldn’t help but be sickened by the fact that most of my time is consumed with thinking of personal interests.<br />
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There are so many hurting people, hurting for reasons stretched so vastly we could never name them all. So many people wake up each day to their own version of hell while our selfie society hides behind artificial walls of perfection we have built in the form of Pinterest mommies, Snapchat teens and Instagram liars.<br />
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I’m haunted by the fact that I see more breaking down in our world than building up. I can’t sleep over thinking that one man could change the world for so many, but so many refuse to change the world for just one.<br />
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I don’t know what I will do. I don’t know what the answer is. I’m not even quite sure why I am sharing this, especially since I very much dislike rants, only it is resting on my heart like a ship’s anchor. I feel it wants to tug me to drift a certain direction, only I’m not sure where.<br />
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Does this mean I’ll never write about the things I love so much (food, travel, family, fun) again? No. But more than anything, I want to contribute positively to humanity, rather than to myself.<br />
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I want to be an Oskar Schindler. <br />
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“And whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world”</div>
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Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:9; Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Sanhedrin 37a</div>
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-18893607263795028902015-05-18T13:35:00.002-07:002015-05-18T13:39:24.893-07:00#186 He Watches Indie Films<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://scontent-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpf1/v/t1.0-9/10402978_374269832697877_7317657675558622172_n.jpg?oh=c6649c1003163772286524a68c41aea2&oe=560289F6" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://scontent-lga.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpf1/v/t1.0-9/10402978_374269832697877_7317657675558622172_n.jpg?oh=c6649c1003163772286524a68c41aea2&oe=560289F6" width="320" /></a></div>
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Friday night Hubby and I went to the 9:55 pm opening night showing of the movie, <i>Where Hope Grows</i>. This was unlike most opening nights of lines crowding the theater doors, the mad rush to then find the perfect seats, and the we’re-all-in-this-together feeling that opening night tends to bring to an audience. For the span of two hours they are bonded simply due to the fact that they all needed to see this movie so desperately they ventured the wildness of opening night. </div>
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We found ourselves entering an end of the hall theater with seating for movies on their way to DVD in a week or so. To top it off the theater was empty. During the commercials, we were joined by three other couples bringing the audience count to a whopping eight viewers.</div>
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Opening night? This can’t be. </div>
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Or can it?</div>
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Allow me to clarify something. <i>Where Hope Grows</i> is an independent film. </div>
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One that I wasn’t going to miss.</div>
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Kristoffer Polaha plays Calvin Campbell, a retired baseball player who fits the stereotypical ex-ball player role. He is a single father, in need of a job, and day by day giving into the vice of alcoholism. Enter our protagonist, Produce, played by David DeSanctis. Though we are given no explanation to how he obtained the name Produce (other than the fact that he works in the produce section of the local grocery store), we meet Produce after learning a little of Calvin Campbell's background. Campbell takes an interest in Produce because Produce is different.</div>
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Produce has Down syndrome. </div>
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Aha, now you see why this was a must see movie for me. Hopefully by the end of this post it will be a must see movie for you as well.</div>
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Though there were the usual tones of an independent film, i.e.: ‘B’ level actors including Billy Zabka and Brooke Burns, Christian themes, and a not so complex story line; <i>Where Hope Grows</i> was actually a charming film that engaged and entertained throughout. I knew it had been a decent movie when afterwards Hubby shrugged to my question of, “So was it that bad?” and said, “I liked it”.</div>
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This man doesn’t hold back criticisms so I knew it meant the movie had been worthwhile.</div>
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The Christian themes were weaved in so subtly that it didn’t, as most Christian films unfortunately do, make me want to cover my head in embarrassment. Christianity was presented in the way it should be, not in a ‘shove it down your throat’ manner, but in a ‘here it is, it could do you some good’ way.</div>
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Most importantly, this movie does an excellent portrayal of people with Down syndrome. Produce reflects all that makes people with Down syndrome wonderful. His optimism, loving nature, loyalty, protectiveness, and giving spirit are performed with such sincerity and perfection by DeSanctis.</div>
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I laughed several times, as did the rest of our humble audience, when Produce exhibited typical behaviors related to individuals with Down syndrome. In that moment, I’m sure we all were thinking of the person in our lives that had influenced our movie choice that night.</div>
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All in all, it was a film that did exactly what it set out to do. The world needs to know more about people with Down syndrome. The world needs to learn their value. This movie does an excellent job at getting the conversation started.</div>
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For more information, visit <a href="http://wherehopegrowsmovie.com/" target="_blank">http://wherehopegrowsmovie.com/</a> where you can find theater listings and much more.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijv1OZ8Hp7kEX7PQqXo4DkeKraHmuYeads2H3l2DAs-CS9ffqqhScSxVgNwThek35oTx3mTT1Otq4NPscXWtpmoeFKeB09zWp5VPiS06YZ5a2ezEyjNzMAc91FVGlTLrzfRAj9kLUk1cYn/s1600/WHG+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijv1OZ8Hp7kEX7PQqXo4DkeKraHmuYeads2H3l2DAs-CS9ffqqhScSxVgNwThek35oTx3mTT1Otq4NPscXWtpmoeFKeB09zWp5VPiS06YZ5a2ezEyjNzMAc91FVGlTLrzfRAj9kLUk1cYn/s1600/WHG+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-52063778283562372862015-04-30T16:45:00.001-07:002015-06-22T06:03:18.781-07:00#185 He is City Lovin'<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
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<b><span style="color: #660066; font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Weekend
I’d Forget<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I can cram the events of
this past weekend into three acronyms: NYC, AC, SONJ<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">And for the first time
ever, the highlight of the weekend wasn't the food!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Blasphemy, I know!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">We started with a 'work
dinner’, but dinner with Hubby's coworkers is never a traditional 'work dinner’
it is too much fun to be considered that. We ate at “Blue Water Grill” in Union
Square. Part of me was wishing I had come three hours earlier to walk around
the area and soak it all in—I love Union Square!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I ordered the scallops
and naturally, they were fabulous. However, as I said, the food really wasn’t
the highlight. We were seated in the restaurant’s Jazz Dining Room and were
only feet away from live entertainment that played everything from classic jazz
hits to pop hits with a twist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Hubby and I were eyeing
up the Shellfish Tower that several tables ordered. It was three tiers of the
best seafood around. Perhaps next time…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">As we headed to our
hotel after a little wandering around town, I saw what appeared to be flames. I
could only imagine it was a contained, controlled fire and wasn’t worried until
we walked closer and there was no one there containing or controlling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/17118874617" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150425_002604 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150425_002604" height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7727/17118874617_3004f7b431.jpg" width="281" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">By the time we were
across the street from it, we realized a huge garbage container was ablaze and
growing by the second. A bouncer at a club across the street stood in the
middle of the road shouting the license plate numbers of the car behind and in
front of the fire to the hostess in case it was one of their patrons’. We were
more concerned with calling the fire department. It certainly appeared as
though this wasn’t a regular occurrence on West 36<sup>th</sup> street because
every passerby stopped what they were doing to stare at the flames. Some people
ran past then stopped, gauging just how far away they felt was safe enough to stop
and stare in awe. One daredevil stood about two feet from the flames videotaping
the fire. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/17118833397" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150425_093825 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150425_093825" height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7695/17118833397_158d3ddb33.jpg" width="281" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Not exactly the choice I
would have made. We stayed to watch the fireman come all while gazing back and
forth between the fire and the line of traffic backed up on the street, and
then realized our hotel was in spitting distance from the fire. We went up
thinking that we would sit and stare down below and then realized we were in
the only level of the hotel with angled windows. They were perfect for a dreamy
city view, but not perfect for spying down below.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Here is a bit of common
sense. While staying in a hotel, if you want to sleep in, you should close the
curtains. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">In spite of knowing that
the blinding sun would wake me up, I couldn’t. I wanted to go to sleep gazing
out at the city and wake up to the city.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">And I did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">At 5:00 am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/17300304626" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150425_053752 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150425_053752" height="359" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7776/17300304626_04583ff7e5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">But the view was so
worth it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/17138732910" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0706 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0706" height="426" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8844/17138732910_d5e0d7601f.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">For breakfast, we headed
uptown, way uptown, to <b><a href="http://theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/2015/02/valentine-foodie-adventures-in-nyc.html" target="_blank">Absolute Bagels</a></b> which you might remember from our
short <b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2015/02/172-he-is-my-valentine.html" target="_blank">Valentine’s Day trip </a></b>to the city. We were greeted with a long line
and a very, very, cranky man in front of us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">It was also worth it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Being the foodies we
are, we needed good coffee, so we headed to a French pastry shop. Two lattes
and a French donut later, we were headed to Central Park to enjoy our goodies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">This was a REAL French
donut, folks. Remember the <b><a href="http://theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/2015/03/bakeries-of-chicago.html" target="_blank">French donut </a></b>of Le Pain Quotidien that we
discovered in Chicago? Let’s just say I referred to the present pastry as a
French donut and the authentic Frenchman behind the counter said, “Well, yeah,
you could call it that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">As if spending the night
in the city, seeing our first street fire, and walking around west Central Park
wasn’t enough, from NYC we headed straight to Atlantic City to meet up again
with Hubby’s work buddies. We weren’t just there to gamble, though of course,
we did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Hubby’s coworker, Jason,
plays hockey and his team was having their championship games all weekend. I
have only been to one hockey game in my life, and I loved every minute of it. So
I was a little over eager to go to the game.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I did, however, forget
that even though it is starting to feel like summer in New Jersey, it will
always feel like winter in a skating rink. I was the smart one who wore flip
flops that day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Go ahead and laugh. I
deserve it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Here’s where you’re
going to think we are absolutely wild and crazy. We drove home somewhere around
12:30 am from Atlantic City to hop in bed and wake up five hours later to go to
Gloucester County, NJ for Jonathan’s last Special Olympics swim meet before the
Summer Games.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I’ve always been a night
owl, but it has been a while since I pulled two days of nonstop activity paired
with two nights of five hours or less sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">But New York City, work
friends, Atlantic City, and Jonathan are all worth it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">This is somewhere around
the four hundred and ninety bazillionth swim meet I have attended. I sometimes
go with my old hat face on. We’re going to watch Jon swim, we’re going to be
excited for him, we’re going to go out to eat and celebrate no matter what.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">In his first race he
swam his little heart out and legitimately earned his gold medal. I say
legitimately because there have been times he was only competing against
himself. In that case, earning a gold medal merely means that he swam. This
time it meant he pushed past the other two competitors in his division. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">The Special Olympics
motto is, “Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I wish all competitors
could adopt this motto. It has become a mantra for me along with Habit Four of the <b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/10/150-he-practices-good-habits.html" target="_blank">Seven Habits of Highly Effective People</a></b>, “Think Win/Win, Everyone
Can Win”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">This was put into action
as Jonathan’s 50-meter relay, the dead last heat of the day, took place. I used
to feel bad for the people that had to stick out the swim meets until the last
event and here we were, sticking it out. Surprisingly, there were still several
fans there. Jonathan swam first and was lagging a little behind, but the next
two swimmers caught his team up. When the final swimmer, who couldn’t have been
more than ten, went to swim, he swam one length of the pool and stopped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Go back!!” was screamed
from the stands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">We watched as this
little guy stopped at the edge of the pool, turned and then swam a few feet. He
stopped, swam to the ropes and waited. He slowly pushed himself a little
further, then stopped and clung to the ropes again, contemplating the water,
looking as though he might not finish the race at all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">This is often the point
where the winners’ families all turn away and leave, and the coaches and
volunteers for the finished teams start to walk toward the area that medals are
given. The families of the lagging team are left standing alone in the stands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">But not this day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">No one moved from the
stands. Everyone was already standing from cheering for their teams, and now
they all cheered with one common goal—to get this little guy to the finish. The
coaches and volunteers crowded around the end of his lane, and just about
everyone in the room cheered and clapped for the athlete and the team that
would take last place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Winning isn’t
everything, it’s the only thing” is a famous quote of UCLA Bruins football coach Henry Russell "Red" Sanders.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">My guess is that Mr.
Sanders never saw a Special Olympics competition where winning isn’t the focus,
but the people behind the sport are what is most important.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Winning
should be secondary. People are primary. This weekend, I knew that to be true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-57921243469977882002015-04-28T18:18:00.001-07:002015-04-28T18:18:48.738-07:00#184 He is Peaceful<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">This
past weekend was nonstop activity for me. It was all good things, but nonstop—I’m
only now getting acclimated to my regular sleep schedule.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">As
much as I was ready to post all about my weekend, I just can’t. Not right now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It </span>doesn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> seem right.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It </span>doesn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> seem right to post about travels and food or family and sports events
when parts of the world are aching.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I’m
far from knowing the right words to say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I’m
far from being learned on the entire situation and circumstances.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I’m
far from ever knowing what it is like to serve in any police department or be
an African American in a society that brags of racial freedom while it whispers
of inequality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
am, however, close to where this took place. Only months ago, I drove down the
streets that today are lined with black ash from fires. I first saw the footage
of the riots in Baltimore as I lay in the dentist’s office getting two cavities
filled. It seemed so impossible that I closed my eyes, let the drilling
continue, and ignored it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It </span>couldn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> be. It </span>couldn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> happen there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Hours
later the reality of what was happening hit me and my heart broke for Baltimore
and America.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
words I string together will only be an echo of what many have already said and
what many will continue to say as the days pass. There is not much more that I
can do but sit here and ponder what I’m sure many are already thinking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">How
can hurting the innocent solve a problem?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Great,
you pelted a few rocks at police officers and destroyed their cars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">What
does that do but give those officers paid time to recuperate causing taxes to
go up not only to pay for resting police officers but also to replace the
government vehicles that were damaged?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">What’s
that? You got a little carried away and decided to make a bigger point for how
upset you are by looting, then setting fire to anything flammable?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">So
now those who are just like you, those who are fed up with the behavior of
certain dirty cops across our nation, must suffer at the hands of your justice?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I </span>couldn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> believe the loyalty of so many Baltimore residents who today were pictured
sweeping the streets and picking up the remaining debris.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Why
is it that the innocent have to pick up the pieces of the guilty?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">My
history teacher in high school instilled in us his definition of history. If
you went through his class, it was certain you would at least learn that <i>History is the consequences of man’s choices.
</i>Tagged along was always this warning: <i>Those
who do not learn their history are doomed to repeat it.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m
fairly certain riots have never solved problems. But I do know that peaceful
protests have led to wrongs being righted. They chipped away at the problem.
They </span>didn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> make a difference overnight but each brave moment spent standing
silent and strong led to change in America.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Will
we ever be a perfectly equal society?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">No,
I think as long as we are human we will never succeed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Yet
that </span>doesn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> mean we </span>shouldn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> try. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-81508146298861150902015-04-13T14:23:00.001-07:002015-04-13T14:23:36.234-07:00#183 He Likes Me For Me<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>10 Things About Me<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p>I don't ordinarily go on and on about myself. I usually get bored telling the same story again and agin and/or figure that people aren't really listening and therefore why waste my breath?* </o:p></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">But due to a recent Facebook/Instagram tagging trend I figured I'd transform what is a long winded social media post into a more in depth post here.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">*I truly wish I had better trust in humanity, unfortunately this is the flat truth of the matter. Perhaps this is why I blog. I figure if you actually want to hear what I have to say, you'll read it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>#1:</b> I was more upset to find out that Jonathan
was a boy than that he had Down syndrome. In fact, I took the news that I would
never have a sister so bad that my parents took me out for a special 'only
girl' shopping trip*. It may have been from that point on that receiving gifts
became my love language. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">*Note: I wasn't overly spoiled that day. Nor was it one of those pout-to-get-something-you-want things. My parents took me to Toys "R" Us and let me pick one thing. Ironically, I chose a mother dog stuffed animal who had a velcro belly with puppies hidden inside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>#2: </b>When I was growing up, I kept pillows pressed up against the
bottom half of my bedroom windows for fear that people outside could see into
my bedroom.*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">*Please note: We lived in the country, across the street from corn fields, and my parents' bedroom was right next to mine.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>#3:</b> It is extremely difficult for me to lie about
anything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>#4:</b> My first job was working at The Little Angel
Preschool. When I started, I told my parents I wanted to save up to buy a Corvette. I banked
every single check and only took out money to tithe. Despite doubts from many,
two months after I turned seventeen I bought a 1986 Corvette completely on my
own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>#5:</b> My senior year of college, on my way back to
school from spring break, Lance and I were in a car accident where my vehicle
flipped over onto Lance's side. The police told him he should have hit his head
on the ground and died. He didn't because he was reaching over to protect me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16951051548" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="me at wedding by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="me at wedding" height="320" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8716/16951051548_5e73da3698.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>#6: </b>I completed my Bachelor's Degree in three
years. While getting my Bachelor's (in Journalism and Writing Arts) I was simultaneously
working on Associate's Degrees in Fashion Design and Fashion Merchandising.
After working for a short time in fashion merchandising, I decided to take the
alternate route to get my teacher's certification. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>#7:</b> We pushed our wedding date to a week later
because of the Special Olympics Summer Games. Right now that seems like
nothing, but then it seemed like forever!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>#8: </b>Four days before my wedding, I interviewed in
NYC for my first real-to-me job. (Previously I had worked at the preschool and
American Eagle). While we were on our honeymoon, I received the call that I got the
job.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>#9: </b>Lance is my high school sweetheart and the
only man I have ever dated, kissed, etc. Sometimes the high school sweetheart part is super sappy to me, but the other part I cherish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>#10: </b>I completed my first manuscript last year.
It is not published, though I hope one day it might be. It will always be my
most flawed, most loved piece of writing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16518650353" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="me on violin by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="me on violin" height="242" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7599/16518650353_2a487edd2a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Note: (<b>#11, perhaps?</b>) This post has made me realize I have very few pictures of only me. This is not exactly on purpose but also not completely unintentional. I feel extremely vain asking people to take my picture, posting/taking selfies, and posting pictures of me alone on social media.**</div>
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*The spell check for 'selfies' is selfless. Ironic?</div>
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-35405540818160178842015-04-12T12:11:00.001-07:002015-04-12T12:11:30.959-07:00#182 He Lets the City Speak to Him<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have a love/hate
relationship with museums. They have become similar to water parks for me. Both
grant a can’t-get-this-at-home thrill, yet both have grown in such high demand
that it becomes difficult to truly immerse yourself in the experience when you
are elbow to elbow with people who need serious lessons in manners.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">The solution, for museums
at least, is usually to go on obscure weekdays or sunshine filled days where
most people will be found outside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Or in my case, pick the
cheap route and only go when you have a coupon.*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">*This really </span>isn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> true.
If I want to go somewhere, I’ll go. However, a coupon gives me a push
incentive. It makes me want to make it happen immediately.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Thus was the case with
our recent visit to MoMA in NYC. While we were in the city for<a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2015/02/172-he-is-my-valentine.html" target="_blank"> <b>Valentine’sweekend</b></a> we put a museum visit on the if-we-need-something-to-do list. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Let’s be honest, in NYC
you hardly ever find yourself searching for something to do. It usually shoves itself
in your face and says, “Hey! I’m here! Choose me!” Whichever option screams the
loudest wins.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">At least, that is how it
is for me. Maybe the city speaks to you differently.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">In the end, we did not
find our way over to the museum that weekend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16504493343" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150404_154727 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150404_154727" height="359" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8763/16504493343_84c783ebc2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">This
worked in our favor because a few weeks ago I was given two free NYC museum passes.
Each pass was good for a family of five. It was perfect! Hubby and I would go
together and then we would come back in the summer with a larger group. We planned
to spend the morning and afternoon of Easter’s Eve in MoMA and then stroll over
to Butter for dinner.*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">*More
about that over at the Orange Strainer. But yes, the restaurant was called
Butter. And yes, it rocked my socks off.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">While
driving into the city, I pulled out my free museum pass, looked it over and
froze. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Maximum
of 5 people with a minimum of 1 child age 17 or under” was written in tiny
print under the massive bold print announcing the complimentary admission to
the museum.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m
going to spare you the conversation that passed between Hubby and me at that
moment because it </span>isn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> something I take pride in. I was a balloon who had been
pricked and by the second was dropping from a mood of elation to one of ‘Whoa is
me!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">My
poor husband.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
planned out exactly what I was going to say to the admissions person at the
museum. I was going to explain my situation, explain that I work at a school
and therefore I should still receive free admission regardless of not having a
child with me. Then, if all else failed I would cry.*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">*No,
I really </span>wouldn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> do that. That would have been pathetic.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I
told the woman behind the counter my saga and handed her my coupon. Her
eyebrows were already raised, and her eyes narrowed into a confused I’m-not-sure-what-to-do
kind of manner. Not only did I feel like she </span>wasn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> going to let us in for free,
but I felt like my coupon must have been written in Greek. She finally looked
up at me and said, “This is for The Met. You’re at the Museum of Modern Art.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Can
you say, embarrassing?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
played it cool though. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Oh,
my, gosh! I cannot believe I did that!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">My
volume level was pretty much near a concert spectator scream as I rolled my eyes
to the ceiling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Don’t
worry about it; people get us mixed up all the time. You </span>aren't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> the only one to
do it,” she said smiling at me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">That
made me feel a little better, but now I was stuck. Should we go over to The Met
and tell our sob story again hoping to get free admission there or should we
just stay at MoMA? Though I might have gotten the two mixed up, I knew that
MoMa had been the museum we had wanted to go to on Valentine’s Day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">We
stood for several minutes trying to make up our minds, wasting this woman’s
time as the line to get in continued to build. Even so, she didn’t show us any
sign of impatience or that she was bothered by our (my) stupidity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“How
much time do you have?” she asked amidst our confused decision making.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Four
or five hours?” I asked instead of told her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That's a good amount of time for either,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Which
one is better though?” I asked, knowing most certainly what she would answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Here,”
she said immediately, but with a tone that convinced me she actually meant it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">My
brain was malfunctioning as I was, believe it or not, still trying to get over
the utter embarrassment of showing up at MoMA with a Met coupon, when another
museum employee, Lindsay, came up from behind us. She had caught the tail end
of our conversation and began telling us about both museums. Then she told the
admissions employee to make us her guests for the day. Two seconds later we
were holding a receipt and headed to the fourth and fifth floors at Lindsay’s
suggestion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
went from forlorn to embarrassed to elated in less than five minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The
Met is still on the list for another day trip to NYC, but I have a feeling MoMA
will be seeing us again simply because of the kindness of Lindsay. She directed
us to the best floors in the whole museum and for the first ten minutes I </span>wasn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> even concentrating on the art because I was so excited. I floated past Van Gogh’s
Starry Night on the high of the treatment we had received.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16938460719" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150404_125030 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150404_125030" height="395" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7707/16938460719_f3208f6b5d.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Having
taught art appreciation in the past, it was now surreal to find myself face to
face with pieces I had projected onto a boring white classroom wall for my
students to see. Discovering that these brilliant masterpieces were right in my
backyard made me ashamed it took me so long to see them in person.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/17098704986" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150404_130558 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150404_130558" height="357" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8752/17098704986_ea3aa46c53.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">We’ll
be heading to The Met sometime this summer, but I don’t think you’ll ever find
a comparison of the two museums here. It would be too biased based upon this
first experience at MoMA. I have the museum itself, the excellent staff, and
the masterpieces within their walls to thank for that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16936854358" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150404_133236 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150404_133236" height="386" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8717/16936854358_7739034170.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-16854012194310408432015-04-10T13:26:00.000-07:002015-04-10T13:26:01.025-07:00#181 He Loves My Brothers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b>It's National Siblings Day! </b></div>
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We have Claudia Evart to thank for this fairly new special day. Evart lost both of her siblings to separate accidents early on in life. She recognized the eternal bond of siblings. Realizing that we have special days for mothers and fathers, she decided there should also be a day for siblings.</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16471450424" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150409_174931 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150409_174931" height="440" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8718/16471450424_dd829954a2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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And I agree!</div>
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My siblings were my first friends ever. Even though now we are all grown, most with our own families and homes, there will always be an invisible line connecting us, drawing us together.</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/17092414262" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="lunettakids by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="lunettakids" height="478" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7713/17092414262_7907a2b519.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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As the only girl, though I wasn't the oldest, I took the command of my siblings. As we got older, I found myself trying to impart in them the wealth of knowledge I had acquired. I wanted to save them from mistakes. I wanted to direct them towards the right path. In reality, I wanted them to be just like me.</div>
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It took me a while but the older I've grown, the wiser I've become. Thank God. Also, thank God I've learned quickly that the things that are different about us can either be used to distance us or to make us grow stronger together. There is no in between. We either accept that we are different and embrace it, or else we remain blind causing tension and strife amongst those we love.</div>
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<b>Justin</b></div>
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Justin and I are the least alike. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">From day one we have had opposite viewpoints and
emotions towards most aspects of life. Justin is laid back, docile, and forgiving. </span>No one could dislike Justin. I am always raring to go, a little rough around the edges at times, and as bitter as Sicilians come. </div>
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His mild mannered temperament used to drive me up a wall. I couldn't imagine how someone could sit back and not attack each moment of life with the aggressive force untamed within me. Then I realized how calming it was to be around Justin. He has a way of making everything seem right with the world, even though reality may say its not.</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/17093209161" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150409_175153 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150409_175153" height="330" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7694/17093209161_494a7af0b0.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>Joel</b></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/17093898285" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150409_175250 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150409_175250" height="486" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8766/17093898285_522450bbf6.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>
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Joel and I are the most alike, but even so there are so many qualities Joel possesses that turn my head and get my brain going.</div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Joel envisions life in a very different way from me. He loves new
experiences, and immerses himself into different situations and opportunities
whenever he can. He is excited about living life to the fullest. Not to
mention, he has enough personality for five people. He will make someone he
just met feel like they have been friends forever, but most importantly, he
makes those he chats with feel like they are valued.</span></div>
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<b>Jonathan</b></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/17093899155" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150409_174731 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150409_174731" height="359" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7678/17093899155_98e0824e0c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I am who I am because of Jonathan.</div>
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Jonathan has a passion for people. While I would rather duck my head and avoid conversation, Jonathan craves it. He longs to be with people, to interact with people, to love on people. One of his common questions when we are together is, "Gaga, I help you?" He wants to be useful. He wants to contribute to things that are happening around him.</div>
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Jonathan is also a hugger. He will turn the least touchy feely person into someone who demands a hug from him. And his hugs are sincere. They are packed with emotion, love, and joy. The perfect anecdote to anything that has got you down.</div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If you have been so blessed to be born with
siblings, don't allow your differences to separate you. Embrace what makes you different. Learn from what makes you different. Enjoy what makes you different. Don't take for granted what so many in this world wish they could have. Find your siblings, whether they be near or far, and love on them extra special today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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"Sibling relationships -- and 80 percent of Americans have at least one -- outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust." </div>
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Erica E. Goode</div>
JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-72392199222913324622015-04-08T17:49:00.001-07:002015-04-08T17:49:24.671-07:00#180 He Likes Extra Leg RoomI don't know how we managed it, but on our final day in the lovely city of Chicago we ate an amazingly satisfying hotel breakfast, grabbed some coffee, shopped an entire outlet mall, went to lunch, <b><a href="http://www.theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/2015/03/bakeries-of-chicago.html" target="_blank">ate cupcakes</a></b>, and drove to the airport.<br />
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It was one wild crazy day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/17082472161" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="20150321_141252 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150321_141252" height="331" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7687/17082472161_188ac39a8e.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joel tried a few different methods of getting us to stay. </td></tr>
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This post, however, will not be dedicated to the perfect hamburgers we enjoyed for lunch or the outlet mall with the most efficient parking garage and interesting art within its walls. Among the eyebrow raisers was this guy hanging on the ceiling:<br />
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Instead I'm going to educate you on my first ever experience with Frontier Airlines. At first, I thought it didn't warrant a full blog post. Then we went through baggage claim on our way home and I decided I would most certainly have to give a blow by blow of our experience with this airline.<br />
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<b>First. A brief history of my airplane experiences:</b><br />
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The first flight I ever took in my life was when I was 17-years-old for my senior class missions trip to Mexico. My second flight was at 19-years-old to Paris with my grandmother. The third flight of my life was at 21-years-old for my honeymoon to St. Thomas. Since then, I have flown fewer times than I can count on one hand. Hubby, on the other hand, flies often for work. He is even accumulating miles (something my lack of flight could never comprehend) as well as several free hotel stays.<br />
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Perhaps the underlying reason for my limited flying is the simple understood matter for flying in general: It isn't cheap.<br />
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Yet the desire to travel, to go here, to go there, still persists within.<br />
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We did the road trip scene for a little, and we've learned that trips over 10 hours long aren't too much fun. At least, not on the drive back home.<br />
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When more than once I was told that there was an airport in my backyard (Trenton) and that I should be flying instead of driving for such lengthy 8-12 hour trips, I decided I needed to look into it.<br />
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Until you experience it yourself, you can only hope that the word of others is consistent with the value of the product being recommended. Flying, especially, is something with which you certainly don't want a negative experience because of someone’s lousy recommendation.<br />
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I’ve broken this analysis into four different categories which I think most travelers will agree are of the utmost importance:<br />
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<b>Price</b><br />
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For this particular trip, tickets elsewhere were starting at $100 more than the tickets we ended up purchasing. We could have gotten our tickets for around $30 cheaper (each!) if we hadn’t opted for extra leg room. Five to seven inches of extra leg room, with seats at the front of the plane, starts at $15 more per seat. If I were you, I would opt for the extra leg room. I haven’t seen that option anywhere else…that is, unless you’re flying first class.<br />
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But if you’re flying first class, you probably aren’t worrying about price too much, are you?<br />
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Frontier is constantly offering deep discounted tickets running from $39 a flight. The only issue is that you are confined to their flight dates. We left on a Wednesday because that was the only date that Frontier was flying to Chicago.<br />
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<b>Boarding Time</b><br />
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No need to arrive several hours before your flight takes off! As long as you are at the airport and parked an hour before your flight you should be fine! The parking lot is fairly large, but if you aren’t a need-to-have-a-close-spot searcher, you’ll be able to find any old spot rather quickly. The walk from the parking lot to the building took us no more than ten minutes.<br />
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Since only two flights go out at a time, checking in and checking your luggage are super quick, too. They have machines to check-in with, however, they weren’t working. We stood in line for probably fifteen minutes, checked in, checked our bags, and had less than an hour to wait to board.<br />
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*HOWEVER* There were several people in line who played their chances too close to the edge and were too late to check-in for their flight. There are signs everywhere saying that if you are not checked in 45 minutes before your flight takes off they will not board you!<br />
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<b>Space on the Plane</b><br />
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Hubby and I only brought book bags onto the plane. We really didn’t want to mess will all that carry-on nonsense of fighting for space. However, it seemed as though there was plenty of space in our overhead area.<br />
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Again, the seating was ama-a-a-a-a-zing! The extra leg space spoiled me, and now I’m convinced I will never be able to fly without the same amount of leg room. On our flight to Chicago the plane wasn’t full, so I was also fortunate enough to have an empty seat next to me. The flight back, sadly, I had to share our row with a gentleman who had just had his left forearm tattooed.*<br />
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*Note: I was sitting to his left.<br />
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This was an even greater testament to their space because I managed to endure the entire flight without bumping up against the man or his loosely bandaged ink.<br />
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<b>Customer Service</b><br />
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The flight attendants were all cheery and helpful. They seem more at ease and relaxed than other flight attendants I have been in contact with. The captain of our flight out added a little humor to his announcements, especially when he told us the fine for smoking on a plane was something like $2,000. To which he added, “And let’s be serious, folks, if you had $2,000 lying around you would be flying United today”.<br />
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However, our flight home could have used a little better communication from Frontier to its passengers. Hubby and I arrived at the airport extra early since this was a regular airport and not the wonderland that I now consider Trenton-Mercer Airport. We wandered the airport for the hour or so that we had to kill and then found a spot to wait near our gate. The time to board came and passed without any notification that the flight was delayed. The time for the flight to take off came and passed without any notification that the flight was delayed. People began to get antsy. Grown men were walking back and forth in front of the gate, continually asking an off duty Frontier employee sitting near me what he knew about the plane’s tardiness.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16896967579" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="20150321_173245 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150321_173245" height="332" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8809/16896967579_78930ba420.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what confused boredom in an airport looks like.</td></tr>
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Then finally, about a half hour after our flight should have taken off, employees for this flight started to show up. It wasn’t until we were on the plane that we learned the flight had been delayed due to the weather of the area the plane had just come from.<br />
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<b>Finally,</b><br />
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Baggage claim at the Trenton-Mercer Airport made me feel like I was living in the 1970s…or some kind universe where we have lost all our technological advances. After getting off the plane (By the way, I forgot to mention, you load and unload the plane outside! Like this is Air Force One or something!), you go into this large garage like building and wait. Then the luggage is tossed onto the ‘belt’ by men outside the garage.<br />
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I was convinced this was the way the first airports ever handled baggage claim.<br />
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Overall, I’ll definitely fly Frontier again. The tickets are cheap, the seating was amazing, and any negatives were easy enough to endure for savings and comfort.<br />
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-37113708325930840922015-04-05T10:02:00.000-07:002015-04-05T10:02:48.253-07:00#179 He Has Been Found<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Bible provides us three clear lost and found stories in Luke 15. A shepherd loses a sheep. He searches for it, finds it, and then calls everyone together to celebrate. A woman has ten gold coins. She loses one, searches for it, finds it, and then gathers her friends to celebrate. Finally, the story of the prodigal son; a son leaves home, squanders his inheritance, reaches the lowest of lows, and then shamefully returns home. He is met by a father who embraces him, and throws a party at his return.<br />
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The Bible tells us that in the same way as these three rejoiced, heaven rejoices when one sinner repents and comes to Christ.<br />
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When I consider these three stories, I do what I always do. I take their stories further. I consider the future of these characters. Did the woman who lost her coin continue to express her joy over finding it? Did the shepherd who lost his sheep now value that sheep even more? Did the father’s relationship with his son blossom to greater depths now that he had returned?<br />
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I wonder at the past of their stories, too. Had the woman who lost her coin been careless? Had the shepherd not valued the one sheep because he had 99 others? Had the father neglected his son, leading his son to want to explore what the world had to offer him?<br />
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I’ve lived my own similar lost and found story. When I reached the ‘found’ part of the story I felt like these characters. I wanted to shout my joy from the mountaintops. I wanted to send out notifications to the world that what had been lost was now found. Something that had been broken was now restored. It was all I could think about. For weeks, I would go to sleep giddy with joy, and awake thinking it had all been a dream.<br />
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But I also know that the splendor of such an event has the tendency to wear away the older the joy becomes. The unbelievable that at one time was worth celebrating, soon becomes yesterday’s news.<br />
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What of these characters? How did their stories end? I know in my own life I no longer find myself continually giddy with joy. I don’t wake up wanting to shout my lost and found story from the mountaintops.<br />
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Although we cannot live only on past joy, there are pieces of our pasts that we must bring with us into every day lest we forget and once again lose what once caused us great joy over being found. <br />
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At Easter, you cannot avoid the image of Jesus on the cross. I find that it follows me everywhere I go during the months of March and April. When I consider the cross, and what Jesus did for me it shakes my entire being.<br />
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I was lost.<br />
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He found me!<br />
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The greatness of finding something that was lost is nothing compared to being the one that is found.<br />
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It is easy to be reminded of what Jesus did for me when it is right there in my face. I have a good cry during passion plays, my chest puffs with gratefulness when I read scripture, and my throat chokes up when I hear Amazing Grace. But then the seasons change, my lost and found story is filed away under ‘Feel Good Stories’ not to be read again until next year.<br />
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This Easter, do what you must to cling to what Jesus has done for you. Don’t allow your lost and found story to become a part of the past. Make it an ever present part of your story as it is being written…a story so great that even shouting from the mountaintops won’t do.<br />
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-69304040087610080912015-04-01T15:25:00.000-07:002015-04-01T15:25:45.140-07:00#178 He is German<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Our last full day in
Chicago started with flowers.<br />
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Specifically, flowers at the Chicago Flower and Garden Show.<br />
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The show was held at the Navy Pier, which was another want-to-see spot on our
list.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Before I go any further; let's discuss my stance on flowers. Flowers are
beautiful, yes, of course. But, my husband knows that flowers are never, ever
the way to my heart. Why? Because flowers die, as was seen in a few of the
exhibits at the flower show. I don't usually prefer flowers as a gift. I don't
use flowers to decorate my home. This is all because of the simple fact that
they are going to die, and until they do I have to use my valuable time trying
to keep them alive.</span><br />
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My favorite parts of the show were not just the flowers themselves, but they
ways they were incorporated with other materials to make them not only flowers,
but works of art.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16977798246" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="SAM_0530 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0530" height="426" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8744/16977798246_cbeb1c7d52.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite table.<br />
If you know the movie "ZuZu's Petals" comes from, I love you</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16381371564" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="SAM_0538 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0538" height="426" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7607/16381371564_dd7f5fc830.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's a nice way to recycle beer or soda bottles.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mallory's favorite table</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16817579829" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="SAM_0544 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0544" height="426" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8696/16817579829_021bd6f4f9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a cake. The entire thing is edible. Mind = Blown.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">At the end of the
exhibit, we were greeted by a mass of vendors. Some people might run from this
like the plague, but we enjoyed perusing through unique jewelry pieces,
different cut and arranged flowers available for purchase, and, our favorite, a
vendor offering samples of Wisconsin cheeses with flavors such as 'Pizza',
'Cranberry', and 'Bacon'.*<br />
<br />
</span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16383673673" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;" title="SAM_0570 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0570" height="426" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8717/16383673673_c1b6eeab44.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">At 3,000-feet long, the Navy Pier has a world within itself; offering shopping,
indoor gardens, daily cruises, a movie theater, rides, The Children's Museum,
and many other delights that come to life during the summer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16816047118" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0614 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0614" height="426" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8711/16816047118_cd59d8bc5a.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Though I read the books
and saw the first film, it wasn't until after our trip that I
realized/remembered that Chicago was the setting for the Divergent book
trilogy. Many scenes from the first book were set in the Navy Pier area,
specifically at the famous Ferris wheel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16381370504" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0594 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0594" height="426" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8730/16381370504_250f33c5c5.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">For the record, Hubby ad I cannot take a normal picture together. I don't want to point fingers, but I'll bet you can figure out who is the problem. (The person on the left!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16381379544" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0591 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0591" height="426" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8743/16381379544_e8c0cd9bff.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Most of our morning was
spent at the Navy Pier. Had the weather been a little warmer we could have easily
spent the entire day there. I think a summer trip to Chicago is a necessity so
we can capture the full extent of what the pier has to offer. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16381377294" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0606 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0606" height="426" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8690/16381377294_e6b75173ee.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Our dinner plans led us
to Lincoln Square. Not to be confused with <b><a href="http://www.gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2015/03/177-he-endures-jazz-clubs.html" target="_blank">Lincoln Park</a></b> where we had
been earlier in the week for shopping. Some of us were a little eager about
this trip. This series of photos should sum up the energy Hubby was exerting:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16816049008" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0663 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0663" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8707/16816049008_40df7fff2f.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16796386507" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0664 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0664" height="333" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8752/16796386507_045a7bd104.jpg" width="500" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16383671413" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0667 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0667" height="333" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8753/16383671413_8bb3736a7e.jpg" width="500" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Oh yes, I forgot to
mention, our dinner for that night was at the Chicago Brauhaus, an authentic
German restaurant. In recent years, Hubby has felt a strong connection to his
German roots. This led to him asking for me to research and cook him
some authentic German meals (we have had Beer Simmered Brats and Wiener Schnitzel
thus far).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16383670103" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0655 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0655" height="640" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8739/16383670103_fc20dc588a.jpg" width="426" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">We had time to kill so
we wandered in and around the area, peeking into some of their charming shops.
Among our favorites were Timeless Toys, The Chopping Block, Gene's Sausage Shop
& Delicatessen. We spent a lot of time in the sausage shop as Hubby picked
out various l</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">andjäger</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">s he wanted to try. </span><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/17002342952" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150320_180611 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150320_180611" height="359" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7648/17002342952_4bed72a39a.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">The only negative about
the area was that for a Friday evening, a lot of shops were closing or already
closed. The area had enough to offer though that we were still able to occupy
our time until dinner. Like the Navy Pier, this is another area that I would be
eager to explore on a warm, sunny afternoon in summer. </span></span></div>
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-34800290513518295952015-03-26T19:12:00.000-07:002015-03-28T12:51:02.227-07:00#177 He Endures Jazz Clubs<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I hate when vacations
are over. I always find myself thinking on and off throughout the following
week something like this: "Last week at this time, I was here (fill in
random place or excursion of my trip), doing this (fill in related action). Now
I'm stuck back here (New Jersey, work, home), doing this (something not so fun)
instead." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">It doesn't help that
today was a miserably yucky, humid* and rainy day in New Jersey while last
Thursday was an almost spring-like day in Chicago.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">*It did reach 65
degrees, which was nice, but the exchange for warm weather from cold included
stickiness and a spike in allergens.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16752908178" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="20150319_104315 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150319_104315" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7654/16752908178_18178ea439.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting our car at the parking lot that protected it all night.**</td></tr>
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**Confused? Read my<b> <a href="http://www.gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2015/03/176-he-is-chicago-bulls-fan.html" target="_blank">last post</a></b> for understanding.<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">For the morning, we
planned to do a little laid-back shopping. I'm slowly learning my shopping
preferences for when I'm traveling in new cities. Though I love shopping in general
(chances are I would be content shopping even in a dollar store), when I am on
vacation I prefer shopping in two kinds of places: 1. Outlet Malls 2. Independent
Boutiques<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">We managed to squeeze in
a quick trip to the Fashion Outlets of Chicago on Saturday before our flight.* From
the massive amount of options, we were able to find plenty of boutiques to
browse around, and even had time to stop into some luxury shops with
ridiculously overpriced items that we may never in our lives be able to afford,
nor want to afford.**<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">*Note: This outlet mall
had the best parking lot I have every experienced in my life. Digital signs of
how many spaces are left in each area, plus a red or green light over spots to
show if they were filled or not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">**Second note: I’m totally
lying. If someone offered me the $500 Armani jacket I was drooling over, I’d
wear that puppy in a heart-beat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16733262877" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150319_125022 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150319_125022" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8741/16733262877_f044cb9330.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Armitage Avenue in
Lincoln Park was our first shopping stop. It was lined with all sorts of
novelty stores and boutiques, my favorite were the Green Goddess Boutique and
Laudi Vidni.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Laudi Vidni is a custom
leather handbag store and I was resisting all desire to splurge on one of their
21 originally styled handbags, custom made with fabric and finish of my choice.
I took one of their cards to taunt myself with and so that my inner fashionista
can have something to crave for the next time we visit Chicago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16752911928" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150319_125030 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150319_125030" height="359" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7592/16752911928_eb192ab9c1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Green Goddess Boutique
had everything from clothes to antiqued furniture to funky jewelry. With prices
ranging from fair to crazy expensive, I managed to find myself two pieces of
jewelry that will now and forever always remind me of our trip. The only thing
that dragged us away was the need for coffee, and of course, pastries. (Read
about it at <b><a href="http://theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/2015/03/bakeries-of-chicago.html" target="_blank">The Orange Strainer</a></b>). Here’s a sneak peak of some of our
goodies:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16733261357" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150319_120610 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150319_120610" height="359" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8744/16733261357_ba6fea9a6b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Guess you’ll have to <b><a href="http://theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/2015/03/bakeries-of-chicago.html" target="_blank">read the post</a></b> to see what was inside…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">We spent the early
evening shopping along Chicago’s Magnificent Mile, which was basically made just
for me. One whole mile of high end, low end, and every kind of designer in
between--be still my heart! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I basically butchered
this pretty simple name, each time choosing a different 'M' word to attach with
‘mile’. I wish I could say that they were all at least adjectives, but I'd be
lying: Marvelous, Millennium, Maleficent...yeah I have memory commitment
issues. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16320551613" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="20150319_165804 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150319_165804" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8720/16320551613_7018f3301a.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Simplest way to spread love. Cold? Need a scarf? Take it.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Though its crime rate is
surprisingly higher than NYC (at least according to neighborhoodscout.com), the
streets of Chicago had a more open and cleaner feel (which I suppose translates
to me as safe). Though Hubby swears Chicago had a distinct smell to him upon
exiting the airport, I felt overall that this city is doing a pretty good job
at dressing to impress.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Naturally, one cannot go
to Chicago without trying pizza, and as a Jersey girl it wasn’t just a ‘Should
do’ it was a ‘Must do’. We ate dinner at Giordano’s, and though I’ll be
blogging about it eventually let me just say this; Chicago puts up a good fight
against New Jersey.*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">*Don’t worry, Jersey. We still
win. You already knew that, I’m sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Jazz Showcase was a
solid ten-minute walk from Giordano’s. Any longer and this girl might’ve needed
a cab because as soon as the sun went down the spring tease we had been getting
all morning instantly transformed back into the brisk chill of winter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Reviews of Jazz Showcase
said to get there early for good seats, so naturally we got there early….45
minutes early. In the NYC world, 45 minutes early usually means you will get a
good seat, but you might not be the first one there. In Chicago, it means you
are the first one there.* The trio was still practicing, so we waited in the
lobby with not only some of the staff of Jazz Showcase, but also the founder,
Joe Segal, who can be found in the same spot for every show, greeting his
guests as they arrive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">*It was Thursday, so
perhaps weekends are different.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The ten minute wait
before they opened the doors was worth it. There are two different pricings for
Jazz Showcase: $25 general seating, $35 reserved. We went for the $25 seating since
most of the reviews said that there isn’t really a bad seat in the house, but
that you should arrive on time to actually get a seat. They were right. We were
escorted in and told we could sit anywhere that didn’t have a ‘reserved’ sign.
Half a dozen tables at the front of the room had reserved signs, but the cozy, </span>over-sized<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> couch seating four in the middle of the room was sign-less.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">As we settled into our
couch I was certain of two things: 1.) I was glad I had purchased the $25
tickets; 2.) I was glad we got there early.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Wouldn’t it have stunk
to have to sit on a boring ordinary chair for $10 more when there was an open opportunity
to sit on a comfy couch?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Going to a Jazz club
always spells love for me because Hubby has a deep, deep hate for the genre in
general. This always makes me sad because in another life I would have been a
jazz pianist, I’m sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Our entertainment for
the night was pianist Chuchito Valdes accompanied by bass and drums. I’m always
amazed at how these three instruments can blend to make such a smooth,
enjoyable sound. As a violinist, I’m fascinated by bass players. Most of the
time they aren’t the spotlight, but when they are they shine by covering the
neck of their instrument with stretches of their fingers I didn’t know were
humanely possible. Towards the end of the performance Valdes played a solo with
such a combination talent and emotion that the room was frozen for just that
moment in time, awestruck with the place he had taken us and the saddened stillness
he was able to convey.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I think, just maybe, even
Hubby enjoyed it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-55758712455001213112015-03-25T14:11:00.000-07:002015-03-25T14:32:12.697-07:00#176 He is a Chicago Bulls Fan<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Last week, Hubby and I
went to Chicago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Our expectations were
low, but it isn't Chicago's fault. You can't really have high hopes for the
second city when you have the greatest city practically at your doorstep.
Truthfully, we were only there for a much needed visit with my brother and
sister-in-law. Even still I might have had the teeniest speck of regret over
not booking a trip to the Bahamas instead. After the winter we have had, going
to the Windy City prematurely chilled me to my core.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Though it takes second
place in city size ranking (and truthfully, now sits in third, behind LA),
Chicago proved itself to have an allure and appeal close, I stress the word
close, to that of my beloved NYC.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Instead of flying out of
Philadelphia or Newark as we usually do, we decided to try the Trenton/Mercer
airport that we have heard tell about from family, friends, and coworkers. The
highlight of the airport is location, ticket price, and speed (only two flights
go out at a time, therefore check-in is phenomenal).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">The highlight for me?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Five extra inches of leg
room and an empty seat beside me for our two-hour flight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what luxury looks like.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I was in heaven. It
was basically the best flight of my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Hubby and I stupidly
skipped breakfast (we had to be up and out by 5:00 am) and were starving
by the time we reached our family. This led to a trip to a local bakery, Bravo
Bakery, which Joel and Mallory had cased out before our arrival. You'll have to
wait to read about most of our foodie adventures over at<b> <a href="http://www.theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The OrangeStrainer</a> </b>but I’ll give you a peek
into how well we ate during our trip:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">That right there is a basket full of heaven.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">While I was booking our
flight to Chicago, Hubby was checking to see if the Bulls would be playing.
Thank goodness they were or I would have heard about that for longer than I
would like.<br />
<br />
Once we sugared ourselves up with pastries and coffee, we were ready to head
into the city. Our hotel was about thirty minutes from the city center which
had its ups and downs. The major up was that we were on a quiet highway, near
some great coffee shops (a<b> <a href="http://theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/2012/10/caffe-bene-new-york-ny.html" target="_blank">Caffé Bene</a></b> to boot!). The major down was what
followed at the end of our night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">It's pretty good*, so
read on, dear reader, read on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
*Good meaning horrible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">We decided that since
the basketball game was that night, we should probably connect with a train to
get into the city. There was no way we were going to park at the stadium--that
madness was certainly not what we had signed up for with this trip! So, we
parked at the closest train station to our hotel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mistake number one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Jefferson Station of
Chicago is one spot I will never, ever forget. Nor will I forget the self-park
lot across the street.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">More to come on that.<br />
<br />
Are you sensing the terrible horrible thing that happened?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">The transit system in
Chicago is not at all like NYC. First of all, the obvious, it isn't
underground. Which is actually a little trippy. It is so much louder that my
ears were singing afterwards. In NYC all roads lead to the Subway. In Chicago,
it is more like 'some' roads. The strangest part was that it was busier at
night (as in, 10:00 at night) than the afternoon hours.<br />
<br />
It was well past lunchtime when we began searching for DMK Burger to help
sustain us until dinner. If you can call it dinner. Due to the time of the
game, we had to make our dinner reservations for 5:00 pm. Which in my world is
insanely early for dinner.* Add in the fact that it was about 1:30 pm and we
still hadn't eaten lunch, and you've got one confused set of tummies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
About ten minutes into searching for the DMK burger Hubby had chosen (we
realized last minute that there are several locations in Chicago) we realized it
was in the Soldier Field stadium. Naturally, instead of calling it quits, we
walked around about half of the stadium until we could speak to a live person
who could tell us what we already feared. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
What's the saying? If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans? Yeah,
that's the one. We were really cracking God up that day.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
Our next plan was to head to the Flower Show at The Navy Pier, but that was a
good half hour away. So instead we headed over to The Field Museum which was
featuring a Viking exhibit. Hubby has some sort of Scandinavian heritage and
therefore has a healthy curiosity of Vikings. We grabbed a bite at the museum's
cafe so that I didn't turn into a Viking myself and attack everyone. The food
was...typical. Let's just say I won't be blogging anymore about that part of
the trip. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
If you want to feel like you have stepped into the movie "A Night at the
Museum" you need only visit a natural history museum such as The Field
Museum. Visitors are greeted by "Sue" the T-Rex who is "the
largest, best-preserved, and most complete </span></span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Tyrannosaurus </i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Rex</i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> ever
found. Sue measures 42 feet long from snout to tail and 13 feet tall at the
hip. She boasts 58 dagger-like teeth...".</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
Sue is truly a magnificent sight to behold, as were the other dinosaurs in the
dinosaur exhibit.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
The Viking exhibit was packed with information and mind blowing artifacts such
as sewing needles the size of small pencils, a millstone which really put
Matthew 18:6 into perspective, and Viking ships.</span></span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Viking Age Burial Boat</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
If you are into this sort of museum (I'll be the first to admit, it isn't
everyone's cup of tea) plan your morning and afternoon around it. We were still
adjusting to being in the city and to our packed to-go-to list that we didn't get
to spend too much time there.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
Our dinner reservations were calling, and even though we had eaten only a few
hours ago the craving for a quality meal was rising. Again, you'll have to read
about <b><a href="http://theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/2015/03/little-goat-diner-chicago-il.html" target="_blank">Little Goat Diner</a></b> and our amazing dining experience over at The Orange
Strainer, but trust me, this is one meal description you'll want to read!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">It was either an eight
minute, $10 taxi or a 30-minute walk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Can you guess which one
we chose? That's right...the taxi. There was no way our full bellies would
get there in time walking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
I hadn't been to a basketball game since high school, which also means I
haven't been to a professional basketball game in...ever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">For someone who isn't
anywhere near being a sport enthusiast, I enjoyed myself immensely. We were
only a few rows from being as far as possible from the court, and it only added
to the fun! At half-time, we walked over half of the stadium in search of their
main store so that Hubby could search for a jersey. Thank goodness they had it!
We also picked up Jon a Benny the Bull mask, because how couldn't we get that
for him?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
It was somewhere around 10:00 when we finally reached the train station to head
back to Jefferson Station and our car. Like I said before, the ride back was
far more entertaining than the ride into the city. It started with a few other
Bulls fans marked by their Bulls gear of ski hats, jerseys, and t-shirts, and
quickly became a mixture of far more colorful individuals. There was the one
gentleman wearing a red </span>bandanna<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> who conspicuously took it off and pocketed it
about five minutes before getting off the train (that was my personal
favorite). A few rows in front of us sat a group of oddly matched women with
ages ranging mid-twenties to late forties. Mixed between was a random
scattering of couples, friends, and acquaintances. By far, the most
hysterical, was the last group of men to board the train. Four men with a
certain boy band reject flair about them got on and stood holding tightly to
the straps hanging from the ceiling. There weren't any other seats available,
but as they opened up three of the men immediately sat while the fourth,
remained standing. This was fine by me, because it gave me extra time to take
in his greased back hair, and dangly earrings made of Lego pieces, gears, and
something that I'm certain may have been bone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I could have slept right
there amid the motley crew of train riders, but our stop came and I realized
how eager I was to get off. Until we stood before the parking garage with its
gate down, locked in place, and the words "Cash only, Open until 10:00
pm" nastily glaring in our faces.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">One of my biggest fears had
come to life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">After the twenty minute
wait for a taxi, and a price tag I'm not willing to talk about yet, lesson
learned. Loud and clear, Chicago. Lesson learned. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-91422504360891607412015-03-16T12:56:00.002-07:002015-03-24T13:39:44.529-07:00#175 He Believes in Me<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="background-color: #fdfdfa; color: #0e2602; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 28px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660066; font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 22pt; line-height: 58.6666717529297px;"> Weekend I’d Forget</span></b></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
These events are in no particular order.</div>
</div>
<br />
<b>1. I ate nachos.</b><br />
<br />
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Hubby has a running list on his phone of places to go to eat. It ranges from local places to places in New York and LA. This is partially to due to watching far too many episodes of Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives, but also due to the fact that we love trying new places.<br />
<br />
Since we were in the area, 10th Avenue Burrito ended up being our lunch option on Sunday. I had sworn off any form of Mexican food because of the 7-layer-nacho experience, but didn't want to be a party pooper.<br />
<br />
I can't say that I have had a better nacho in my life. They are obviously homemade as they have a greasy delicious crunch to them that you just don't get out of the bag. They were loaded with cheese and meat and all other necessary nacho delights. I could have used a little more sour cream though, maybe some salsa, too.<br />
<br />
The burritos, however, for which the restaurant is named, weren't all that. I ordered the chicken stir fry burrito thinking it would be a milder burrito.<br />
<br />
No. Not at all.<br />
<br />
I could only take about two bites because the spice was so overpowering. If you like spicy, I suppose you would be thrilled.<br />
<br />
Our waitress was pretty horrible too, but I'll save you from that description and leave it for my Trip Advisor readers.<br />
<br />
<b>2. I cut my hair.</b><br />
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<br />
I have been cutting my hair every six to eight weeks for the past year, so that isn't so exciting. But I did get a completely different style and color this time. Blonde, even just highlights, have been too much upkeep for me so I decided to make a change. But apparently I can't resist color...so I asked my hair stylist to throw in a little purple.
<br />
<br />
My thoughts?<br />
<br />
Where has this been all my life?<br />
<br />
<b>3. I celebrated the start of Spring Break.</b><br />
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I heard tell of the deliciousness of the Cucumber Basil Smash at Seasons 52. It tasted like I was drinking the healthiest cocktail ever, Prairie Organic Cucumber Vodka will do that, I suppose. I know what you're thinking--is that good thing or a bad thing? In this case it was definitely a good thing! If you are a cucumber fan, as I am, and can enjoy a hint of basil, this is a drink for you!<br />
<br />
<b>4. I went to see <i>Cats</i> with my SIL, Sam, and Jonathan.</b><br />
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If I hadn't been familiar with the music, I might have been a little confused. Afterwards I did a little reading and realized that because T.S.Eliot's book, <i>Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats</i>, is the inspiration and text of most of the show, Andrew Lloyd Webber was given permission by the Eliot Estate only to use the original poems as the text, which from the start of the show in 1981 caused confusion among cast members over the plot.<br />
<br />
Regardless, the performance was well-done for a local theater group. The costumes and scenery looked comparable to any pictures I have seen of the show on Broadway.<br />
<br />
<b>5. I spoke to a woman with a 56-year-old brother with Down syndrome. She just so happened to be sitting behind us for the entire show.</b><br />
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<br />
Jonathan loves shows. He is, let's say, overly enthusiastic about them. He isn't disruptive, but he does like to bounce with excitement, gasp enthusiastically, and shake his dolls back and forth to the music. We've never had a problem in the theater (we have in church, but that is a different story for a different time), but I'm always overly cautious and as considerate as I can be of those around us. Translation: I spend half the night trying to make Jonathan 'like everyone else'.<br />
<br />
Boo to that.<br />
<br />
When the play finished, the woman behind us said, "Is he your brother?" She then told me of her brother, how he is nonverbal but would have been enjoying the show just as Jonathan did. We both felt it had been meant to be that she was behind us. I told her that I was one of Jonathan's guardians and she excitedly told me that she was for her brother also.<br />
<br />
She gave me a positive outlook on what aging will be like for Jonathan.<br />
<br />
Like everything else with those with Down syndrome, it looks like it will be awesome.<br />
<br />
<b>6. I took an obnoxious number of pictures with this cutie.</b><br />
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Speaking of obnoxious, I made the mistake of quoting the seahorse from <i>Finding Nemo</i> who says, "I'm obnoxious" when introducing himself to Nemo. To which Jonathan proceeded to say, "I'm obnoxious" for the entire ride home from the show. However, it slowly transformed from "I'm obnoxious" to "I'm noxious" to "I'm nauseous".<br />
<br />
Thankfully, it was just an interpretation issue and not literal.<br />
<br />
<b>7. I was spoiled with a new violin by Hubby.</b><br />
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You might recall two years ago when I went with my friend, Amy, to help her <a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2013/07/101-hes-my-first-my-last-my-everything.html" target="_blank"><b>pick out a violin.</b></a> Ever since I came home from that experience, apparently, Hubby had been planning on having me return to the same violin shop.<br />
<br />
When I decided I wanted to go to college for violin, I began the dreaded task of auditioning for schools. When auditioning for my top pick, in front of the associate concertmaster of the Philadelphia orchestra no less, I was advised to major in music education (which later caused me to switch to a music minor) and to get a new violin.<br />
<br />
The best argument to get your parents to shell out cash on a new violin is to say the associate concertmaster of the Philadelphia Orchestra told you to.<br />
<br />
That was more years ago than I want to admit. I finished school. Time passed. I stopped playing. I played here and there. I stopped playing. I taught beginner violin lessons. I played for church. I stopped playing.<br />
<br />
Until I decided enough was enough and started taking private lessons again.<br />
<br />
This naturally spurned the desire for a new violin, but it also brought up realization of mistakes and improvements I needed to make in my playing.<br />
<br />
It has been a little under a year and I am still going strong with taking lessons. I have learned so much more in this short amount of time than throughout all my high school or college years combined. Even though I would have said I'm not worth investing in a new violin, I have a husband who still wanted to do so.<br />
<br />
My new violin is beautiful, it has character, history, and will only continue to help the progress I have begun. It is also a constant reminder of how much my Hubby not only loves me, but believes in me.<br />
<br />JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-50499034668232353412015-03-08T11:18:00.002-07:002015-03-08T19:04:37.482-07:00#174 He Takes Care of the Mess<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Every Tuesday, my brother Jonathan comes over my house for dinner. This past Tuesday night, after we had eaten and watched a little TV, Jonathan said he wanted to go home. Usually, he will cling onto every possible moment to stay at my house, but tonight I could tell something was off.<br />
<br />
As I stood up from the couch to get ready to leave, Jonathan leaned over on the couch and let out a cough that can only be defined as a violent mixture of phlegm, wheezing, and intense gut action.<br />
<br />
We know this cough.<br />
<br />
A few years ago, we were at the mall with Jonathan and Joel. Jonathan had been acting tired and cranky towards the end of our trip. As we walked out to leave the mall, Jonathan debuted this very same cough. The mall was closing, but the cough was so out of the ordinary for Jonathan that Joel instantly turned around to buy a water bottle.<br />
<br />
The cough walked with us to the car. With my hands seconds away from opening his car door for him, Jonathan looked up at his reflection on the window and vomited all over the door.<br />
<br />
It was all I could do not to jump for joy at the sight of Joel running across the parking lot with a bottle of water in his hand. Jonathan got a few sips, then the rest of the bottle was given to the attempt of getting the vomit off the car.<br />
<br />
So as this eerily similar cough was coming out of Jonathan’s mouth Tuesday night, Hubby sat up and said, “He’s going to throw up”.<br />
<br />
I was in denial, so I didn’t seize the moment quite as quickly as I should have and seconds later my rug was covered in vomit with a look and smell distinctly related to the 7-layer taco dip Jonathan had asked me to make for dinner. Hubby ran upstairs stating that “he almost just threw up too” and I thought he was leaving me to fight the battle alone.<br />
<br />
Stupidly, I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the two bowls that our tortilla chips had been in from dinner. Jonathan threw up in one, and then in the other, and as this beautiful process was occurring I couldn’t figure out why I hadn’t just grabbed the trashcan that was two feet away from the bowls.<br />
<br />
With no other option left, I ran the filled bowls back into the kitchen and exchanged them for the trashcan. Of which, you guessed it, he expelled two more rounds of 7-layer taco dip scented barf. It was around this time that Hubby came down with a bucket of soapy water to take care of clean up.<br />
<br />
I'm sure you are wondering why I am sharing with you my Tuesday night from hell. You’ve had your own share of rounds with stomach bugs. And if you have children, I’m sure you’ve done more than any human should have to do of cleanup duty.<br />
<br />
But I promise, I have a point.<br />
<br />
When we were fairly convinced he wasn’t going to let anything else out, we got him together to go home. He was shivering yet warm, his face pale and confused, breaking my heart with each second that passed. As I was trying to comfort him, I told him he was going to go home and rest. I grabbed my phone to tell my mom what happened so that she could give his job coach a heads up that Jonathan was sick and probably wouldn’t be able to go to work the next day.<br />
<br />
When Jonathan heard that he immediately said, “I see Mr. Chris tomorrow.”<br />
<br />
“No Jon, you’re sick, honey. You probably won’t go to work tomorrow. You need to rest. You just threw up a lot,”<br />
<br />
“I all better. I see Mr. Chris tomorrow. I go Praise and Worship (at church).”<br />
<br />
“I don’t think so, we’ll see how you feel,”<br />
<br />
To which, during our drive home, we had the same exact discussion about four billion more times. He was convinced he was all better, despite having just thrown up five times (and about six more later that night at home). Regardless of what his body was going through he knew two things: he still wanted to go to work the next day, and he still wanted to go to church that night.<br />
<br />
Especially this morning, after losing an hour sleep last night due to daylights savings time, after waking up half an hour late and having the teeny tiny desire to skip church, I find myself put in check by someone who most people often overlook.<br />
<br />
How many of us look for excuses out of work? How many of us want to sleep in on Sunday, or play hooky on our other church responsibilities? How many of us choose laziness over productivity? How many of us choose selfish desires over helping others?<br />
<br />
My hand is raised.<br />
<br />
Yet here, someone that is often labeled as a burden to society, incapable of serving a purpose, amidst shivers and bending over the trashcan, wants nothing more than to work and go to church.<br />
<br />
When I see Jonathan’s passion for life, it makes me ashamed of who I allow myself to be when I’m angry, not feeling well, or just in a bad mood. He makes me realize that I will forever be working on putting my priorities in an order that God would be pleased with because my humanity time and time again will always cause me to fail.<br />
<br />
I say it often, but I’ll say it again, Jonathan is my hero. He may not be society’s definition of perfection, but the unprejudiced love within him, the sincere care and concern he offers, and the joyfulness with which he approaches all circumstances makes me aspire to let go of myself and become more like him.<br />
<br />
<br />JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-6334234873048880322015-03-06T15:35:00.002-08:002015-03-06T15:35:36.073-08:00#173 He Never Takes Pictures<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We had another snow day
yesterday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hubby's desire to live
in LA is starting to rub off on me, just a bit. Have I mentioned that before?
While I do appreciate the beauty of a snowstorm, enough is enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Perhaps it isn't even the
snowstorm that really gets my goat.* It might just be the single digit
temperature I woke up to this morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">*How on earth did goat
become synonymous with anger?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After shoveling and
trying to clear my car for around fifteen minutes, I wondered why my hands were
beginning to feel numb. I came inside, where the warmth of course confused my
frozen body, shivered my gloves off, and had to refresh my phone to believe
that it was actually 8 degrees outside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Wasn’t it just 41
degrees two days ago?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hubby has been sick for
the last couple of days and I feel like my body has been working overtime to
fight off the lingering germs that fill the air around me. But regardless, he
is the one who is doctor-approved sick which means that yesterday and today I
shoveled for the first time this season. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I can't say it enough; I
am blessed to have a man who takes care of snow for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yesterday might have
been the first snow storm ever that we made no attempt to leave the house.
Around lunchtime, Hubby suggested I move my car from the street to the parking
lot beside our house. Begrudgingly, more so towards the storm than the audacity
of Hubby’s suggestion, I threw on my Uggs, shoveled a pathway to my car, and
moved it the fifteen-feet distance from the road to the lot. It wasn't
quite as cold then, so I thought I'd be <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">whimsical</span> and grab my camera to take artsy shots of the
snow. After about five minutes I decided three things: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1. Trudging through
inches of snow for the perfect shot isn't worth it. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">2. Trudging through inches of snow for the perfect shot while it is
still snowing heavily is certainly not worth it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">3. My little corner of
the world doesn't hold enough beauty to make trudging through the
snow while it is still snowing heavily worth it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I marvel at people who
can capture that perfect shot of snow. Actually, I marvel at people who can
capture perfect shots of any form of nature. I often see landscapes while I am
driving that I think are breathtaking, perfect photo opportunities. I'm sure
the true photo enthusiast would screech to a halt and capture that
moment regardless of traffic, weather, or personal pride (yes, sometimes
snapping photos of random things like trees or your dinner will raise eyebrows).
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For myself, I think more
than not wanting to pull over the car, I choose not to photograph a gorgeous
sunset or a field covered in snow because some things I don't want to miss a
moment of in exchange for sharing it with the world. Some things need to be
spurts of beauty that we keep to ourselves. Beauty that in that still small moment
was meant to be for you and you alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sorry to expose such anti-photography,
bohemian-like thought. It won't happen again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16550881329" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0300 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0300" height="426" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8590/16550881329_6bd25e9f0a.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Or...maybe it will. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I make no promises.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-6620995637006772672015-02-17T07:09:00.001-08:002015-02-17T07:09:06.164-08:00#172 He is My Valentine<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b><span style="color: #660066; font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Weekend I’d Forget<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Somewhere
over the last two or three years, I decided I liked Valentine’s Day. For so
long I had decided to down play it that I suppose in the end I forced myself to
like it. The last time I had been out to eat on Valentine’s Day was back when
Hubby and I were dating. We waited at least two hours for a table he had
reserved weeks in advance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">No,
wait. That sentence </span>doesn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> do that experience justice. We waited in the
entryway of a little Italian restaurant in South Jersey crammed up against what
felt like every other couple in South Jersey. The restaurant was open enough
that we could see other couples sitting and enjoying their dinners, but the
waiting area was close enough to the front door that we needed to keep our
coats on or else endure cold winds every time the door was opened. We stood for
so long that at some point, probably around the two hour mark; one of the
employees came around and gave every woman waiting a tiny gold heart pendant wrapped
in a velvet envelope as some sort of peace offering. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">After
that experience, Hubby never wanted anything to do with restaurants on
Valentine’s Day again. During the rest of our dating years, we would go out a
few days before or after, noting that the day really held no significance.
After we were married we began taking turns being responsible for dinner. One
year, he ordered food, picked it up on his way home from work, and served it to
me on china. Other years, we cooked for each other. You might recall <b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/02/125-he-hates-surprises.html" target="_blank">last year</a></b>,
and the surprise trip I planned to Baltimore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Hubby </span>didn't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> fail to live up to last year’s standards. He planned an entire weekend
in my favorite place: NYC. Though the temperature was somewhere in the
not-at-all-human degrees, we still enjoyed ourselves in my favorite place on
earth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/15937904544" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150214_121057 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150214_121057" height="400" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7379/15937904544_792817c482.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Originally,
he wanted to get us a room at The Plaza. There is a tiny dork inside of me who
desperately wants to one day stay there because of one of my favorite movies, <i>Home Alone 2: Lost in New York.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Don’t
judge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">However,
the prices were enough to make you scream, so he booked two nights at the hotel
directly next to The Plaza: Park Lane Hotel. Same view of Central Park, same
exact block, only it was a hunk of cash cheaper. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">We
really let our inner foodies shine this weekend. For all the times we have been
to NYC we have never had a NYC bagel or pizza.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Take
a moment to recover from the shock. It’s overwhelming, I know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">So
they were, obviously, two important stops for us to make.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Then,
for the first time in over ten years, we went out to eat on Valentine’s Day. I’m
not sure how Hubby researches or discovers such awesome restaurants, but our
Valentine’s Day meal was out of this world. We had an eight-course dinner that
at first made me afraid, then in the end made me want to experience it again
and again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It
would only be right to discuss our foodie ventures over at <i>The Orange Strainer. </i>So that is where you will find them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When
we </span>weren't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> eating, we were shopping. When we </span>weren't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> shopping, we were rushing
to catch the Subway before we started to frost over. Despite the bitter temperature,
most of NYC was wide awake and hustling to and from as if it was any other
weekend. It made me feel good that we </span>weren't<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> the only people daring enough to
take on single digit temperatures with a negative Real Feel. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16559358512" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0179 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0179" height="426" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7407/16559358512_a45fdebe60.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
food was certainly my favorite part of the weekend, but a close second was
sleeping in, sharing champagne with my Hubby, and sitting back and enjoying our
view.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
can’t wait to go back in the spring.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16560482915" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0176 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0176" height="426" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7381/16560482915_2abb79df43.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-56408034069247196302015-02-11T17:37:00.000-08:002015-02-11T17:37:59.169-08:00#171 He Loves Chocolate MousseThere's an empty spot in my heart tonight.<br />
<br />
Because tonight I took down my Christmas tree.<br />
<br />
The good news is, that Christmas 2015 is just a little more than 10 months away.<br />
<br />
So start that shopping!<br />
<br />
Okay, I kid.<br />
<br />
This winter has been pretty chilly. And what goes better with chilly weather than chili--the food? Every year, Hubby's work holds a chili cook-off. I forced his coworker, Drew, to enter. So he forced me to come over and cook it with him.<br />
<br />
I guess it was a fair trade.<br />
<br />
Drew has a TV in his kitchen.<br />
<br />
It was the highlight of my day.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/15819934603" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0097 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0097" height="426" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8633/15819934603_67c66435b1.jpg" width="640" /></a> </div>
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Drew wasn't impressed with my excitement.</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16253744979" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0098 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0098" height="426" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8599/16253744979_f894662710.jpg" width="640" /></a> </div>
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I'd post a picture of the chili, but the pictures I took weren't so flattering. I was more concerned with getting a bowlful to test taste.</div>
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The recipe we used was <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2013/11/chipotle-chicken-chili/" target="_blank"><b>Pioneer Woman's (who else's?!) Chipotle Chicken Chili</b></a>. It was delicious, but didn't take first place. A traditional beef chili did, so I don't truly consider it a loss, especially since one of the judges voted us for first, and especially especially since Drew took last place last year.</div>
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Anything above that is definitely improvement in my book.</div>
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The next day some of our favorite people came over to watch the Super Bowl with us. </div>
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Before the game, we watched the movie <i>Gone Girl. </i>If you haven't seen it, all I'll say is, it was crazy.</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/15819957883" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0116 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0116" height="426" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8565/15819957883_fd633a8384.jpg" width="640" /></a> </div>
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Hubby had to leave the movie half way through to start making game day snacks.</div>
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He may or may not have given me a little lip about missing the end of the movie. But then I reminded him that he was the one that chose to make rotisserie chicken wings, homemade potato skins, and <b><a href="http://theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/2013/02/guest-chef-hubbys-any-day-queso.html" target="_blank">queso</a></b> instead of buying frozen apps.</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16310169478" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Screenshot_2015-02-01-19-10-29 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="Screenshot_2015-02-01-19-10-29" height="640" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7416/16310169478_3aaa2fc9ff.jpg" width="359" /></a></div>
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He did an amazing job. I made sure to save his Snapchat of it all since I was almost too eager to take this picture:</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/15819955673" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="SAM_0120 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="SAM_0120" height="426" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7305/15819955673_ee779806d5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The potato skins were amazing. I probably could have eaten half the platter. The wings were a little too spicy for me, but the meat was incredibly tender. Hubby is a perfectionist and hates his queso, but I loved it.</div>
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This past weekend I went shopping with Drew and while we were chatting with a salesperson I saw this:</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16311624469" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150207_154844 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150207_154844" height="640" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7287/16311624469_c5e247226e.jpg" width="471" /></a></div>
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Naturally, I needed to take a picture of it.<br />
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The next day, my sister-in-law and I made a family dinner to celebrate my Gram's 82nd birthday.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16310169588" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150208_173036 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150208_173036" height="640" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7341/16310169588_a3c6d4482f.jpg" width="359" /> </a></div>
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Doesn't she look good for 82? I keep crossing my fingers that it's hereditary.</div>
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Gram loves strawberry desserts, so I made her my <b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2012/03/47-he-celebrates-birthdays-aka-heres.html" target="_blank">strawberry trifle</a></b>. </div>
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Almost half of my family are babies when it comes to fruit in their desserts. Thank goodness I have been delivered of this. For the nose wrinklers, I made chocolate mousse.</div>
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Chocolate mousse is Hubby's favorite. So really, I made chocolate mousse for Hubby. I used Bon Appetit's <b><a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/classic-chocolate-mousse" target="_blank">Classic Chocolate Mousse recipe</a></b>. I expected the mousse to be much harder to make. The only thing that surprised me was that it calls for 1/4 cup of espresso or strong coffee. I've never noticed a coffee flavor in any classic chocolate mousse that I have tasted before. It wasn't a horrible flavor, but if you aren't expecting it or if you aren't a coffee lover, you might not like it.</div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/16496158981" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20150208_172803 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20150208_172803" height="640" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7318/16496158981_7683d0e188.jpg" width="547" /></a></div>
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Chili not chilly, good friends, good food, and a birthday celebration--yeah, my last two weekends have been pretty wonderful.JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-28376910350840575502015-02-06T15:56:00.000-08:002015-02-06T15:56:09.175-08:00#170 He Would Never<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/13297189465" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="20130913_213945 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20130913_213945" height="400" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3772/13297189465_182360ca62.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">March for Life was a few weeks ago.<br />
<br />
I really wanted to post something on that day, but the words just weren't
there.<br />
<br />
Because while my heart breaks for the children who are murdered by their
mothers because they are not wanted, my heart breaks even more for the children
who are murdered by their mothers because they aren't good enough.<br />
<br />
Amniocentesis testing has for years now been giving mothers an excuse to
terminate their pregnancies. This prenatal test checks for any fetal
abnormalities such as cystic fibrosis, spina bifida, and Down syndrome. The
possibility that their child could be born different than a 'typical' child
apparently is a good enough reason for murder. I hear it again and again and
again, instances where the test showed a fetal abnormality and the doctor
immediately suggested an abortion. But here's the kicker: Regardless of the fact
that abortion in and of itself is wrong, in many cases the child presumed to be
not good enough for life because of an apparent disability in the end is born
with no disability and perfect health. I know personally of two mothers who
were told their child WOULD, not might, WOULD have Down syndrome and when that baby's
birth date came that extra chromosome somehow disappeared.<br />
<br />
I could go on and on about this and my strong feelings towards amniocentesis
testing, towards doctor's practically forcing abortions on mothers, and towards
wanting to help women who feel lost when given a Down syndrome diagnosis. But
I'll save that for later.<br />
<br />
Ordinarily, I try to keep the mood of this blog light. I try not to take any
stances, or say anything that might offend.<br />
<br />
But today I'm offended.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
<br />
Today I read<b> <a href="http://www.caintv.com/uk-woman-i-wish-id-aborted-my" target="_blank">an article</a></b> about a woman who dared
to say that she wishes every day that 47 years ago she had aborted her son with
Down syndrome. (This was after I'd read the highly popular article today of the man who had to choose between his wife and his newly born child. Spoiler alert: The baby was born with Down syndrome).<br />
<br />
If only I could meet this woman.<br />
<br />
First, I would have to resist the urge to let out a bunch of unintelligible
shrieks meant to be words. Then I would tell her the truth of the matter.<br />
<br />
She doesn't deserve her son.<br />
<br />
She says that her life would be so different, so much better, without her son.<br />
<br />
But goodness, I could say that about the fact that I was born the only girl in
a family with three boys. <br />
<br />
There are so many men and woman who recognize the value of any life. There are
countless numbers of men and women who would have loved and cherished her son
for who he is, regardless of his diagnosis, that I can only see her statement
as ignorant.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
<br />
Great. She toughed it all out, she put her life on hold for him. But as the
article's author states, "<i>Would you want to spend time with someone who
wants you dead?"<br />
<br />
</i>In addition, such a statement mocks those who have stood up to say what a
positive impact their child, brother, sister, etc with Down syndrome has had on their lives. If you follow this blog, you've heard about my brother, Jonathan.
Are there things about my life that would be easier without Jonathan?
Certainly. Then again, there are things in my life that would be easier if I
was an only child, or if I had been born to Queen Elizabeth. Are any of them
worth it? No. Flipping. Way.<br />
<i><br />
</i>I'm going to end this post with a confession.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
<br />
My heart doesn't just break for this; my heart is shattered over it.<br />
<br />
In my perfect world, I'd be able to adopt and care for each and every baby born
with Down syndrome who wasn't wanted. Abortion wouldn't need to be an option,
because at the diagnosis of Down syndrome to a mother who ordinarily would
immediately sign for abortion, I'd be there to sign for care of their child.<br />
<br />
A few years ago, I dreamed up this community where children with Down syndrome could be adopted or fostered. Then I learned that a community, not exactly but
in the same vein as my vision, actually exists. Pathfinder Village is a community where
individuals with Down syndrome live. They "promote<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>a healthy, progressive environment
that respects the individual, supporting a life of value and
independence".<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
<br />
But this still isn't exactly my vision. At first, my dream was to have a place
that would essentially be like an orphanage or foster village for children with
Down syndrome. But it would be more than just that. It would be an outreach to
women. It would be a place that educates and helps women to recognize that a
prenatal testing should never be the end of the road. After visiting
Pathfinder, I realized that though there is an issue regarding abortion of
children with Down syndrome, there are generally no issues among mothers who
choose life (the woman from this article being the exception). The issues occur
in adulthood when parents are either too old to care for their child or their
child needs more activity/community available to them. As Jonathan gets older, I recognize more
and more that he needs more opportunities to be out and
about utilizing his personality and love for people.<br />
<br />
This may all sound a jumble, because that is my reality. My heart is burdened
for those with Down syndrome because my heart has been impacted by someone with
Down syndrome. I know I want to start a nonprofit benefiting those with Down
syndrome, but I also know that means I need a business plan, I need money, and
I need others who will be equally as committed to this cause.<br />
<br />
So why expose my dreams if there is nothing currently being done?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
<br />
Because this article I have shared got me heated. It sparked inside of me the
aggravation I feel every single time I hear that a doctor suggested aborting a
child simply because a test showed they would have Down syndrome.<br />
<br />
And though I need a plan, money, and supporters, more than anything I need
prayers. I need direction. I need a focus. I need clarity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I
don’t think God would place something on my heart to have me fail, or worse,
never even start</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">. </span><br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/15415072842" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Graduation by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="Graduation" height="300" src="https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2947/15415072842_e93d66c301.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-64923039892737050472015-01-21T15:59:00.004-08:002015-01-22T05:13:10.349-08:00#169 He Isn't a Fan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="color: #660066; font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Weekend I’d Forget<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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My weekends haven't been too thrilling. But that is the point of <i>Weekend I'd Forget </i>after all, isn't it? To take an otherwise ordinary weekend and see the good in it.<br />
<br />
This is what I have been doing with most of my days as I continue to fill my Good Things Jar with good things that have happened during my week. So far, my good things have included things like surviving my first root canal and going to see the final part of <i>The Hobbit.</i><br />
<br />
Thrilling, I know.<br />
<br />
<i> </i><br />
This weekend was perfectly boring. Even with an extra day off on Monday, most of my time was spent at home...doing not much of anything. The Type-A, overachiever side of me rolls her eyes at this, while the side that won, my secret sloth, grins giddily.<br />
<br />
Here is how overly unproductive my weekend was: the most exciting outing Hubby and I took was a result of us laying around watching TV.<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago, Hubby and I got cable. This is the first time in my life I have ever had cable. You would think I instantly became a cable junkie, sitting in front of the TV until the wee hours of the morning like Ralph Kramden did when he got his first TV in <i>The Honeymooners*. </i><br />
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But instead the cable has hardly been used. This is, in all fairness, to the fact that we had major issues with connectivity at first. But even now that it is somewhat working correctly, it isn't something we rush to with each free moment of our time.<br />
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<i>*</i>You might think I'm showing my age by referring to a show like this, but I promise, I'm not.<br />
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That said, Hubby put The Food Network on as we ate lunch Saturday afternoon and there I sat from lunch until early evening*. <br />
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*Squeezing in a quick Starbucks run, of course.<br />
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On the show "Best. Ever" they covered Best.BBQ.Ever and one of the locations they highlighted was Sweet Lucy's Smokehouse in Philadelphia.<br />
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Coincidentally, only moments before Hubby and I had been discussing what to do for dinner.<br />
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Sweet Lucy's was the natural choice.<br />
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Before I tell you about our Sweet Lucy's experience, let me first forewarn you that I am not a fan of Philly.<br />
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There, I've said it.<br />
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And I'm sorry.<br />
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Well, not really.<br />
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If anything, I'm honest and prefer not keeping such key details away from you.<br />
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For some reason, most of my experiences with Philly have led me to have a deep dislike for the city. With each time I go, I discover more reasons to fall in love with NYC.<br />
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If you're a Philly lover, can we please still be friends?<br />
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Sweet Lucy's is located on State Road and it was a pleasant surprise to see that there was a decent sized parking lot. It was not a pleasant surprise, however, to discover that you place your order first and then are given a seat.<br />
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The waiting area was chaos with groups of people sporadically lumped all over. It reached such a point that I needed to put on my teacher hat and usher the people in front of us to the left so that the people behind us wouldn't eagerly cut in front.<br />
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Ah, Philly.<br />
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The Best.Ever episode focused on their BBQ pulled chicken, so I knew I would be ordering that. Then I realized that I could do a combo platter and the world was suddenly a beautiful wonderful place, even in Philly. I was going to be a polite little lady and order the "Double the Fun" which is a choice of two meats, but then I decided I needed to show this place my true colors and went with the "Triple the Pleasure". I ordered the BBQ pulled chicken, the chopped Texas brisket, and the Memphis baby back ribs. With each combo you get three sides (three!) and an Italian roll or cornbread. For my sides I ordered a side salad, garlic mashed potatoes, and a brownie (oh yes). All for the price of $16.99.<br />
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Not bad.<br />
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Hubby ordered the same thing, but for his sides he got the mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and chili. He also got an Italian roll and then ordered additional cornbread.<br />
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I really wish we had ordered a dozen cornbread for $9.50 to take home. It was that good. Perfectly sweet and moist throughout.<br />
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The mashed potatoes were just alright, a little too watery and garlicy for my taste. Hubby loved the macaroni and cheese and the chili, too.<br />
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The meats were outstanding, as I'm sure you've already figured out. Though Food Network raved about the chicken, Hubby and I both loved the brisket. Usually when I get a pulled pork sandwich, I end up eating the meat and tossing most of the roll. Hubby wisely used his Italian roll for the brisket and changed my world view on pulled meat sandwiches.<br />
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Though the building is certainly humble in outward appearance and its entry, it makes up for it in the eating area. The staff were attentive to our every need, even to the point of making sure we didn't miss our complimentary tootsie rolls before taking our trash and bagging our food. The cashier was also extremely pleasant, which, let's be honest, isn't always the case.<br />
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This delightful meal led to Hubby choosing to be a little adventurous. We headed into Center City to shop at Macy's. Only to discover, after parking and walking a few blocks, that Macy's closes at 8 pm on Saturdays.<br />
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This baffled my mind. A department store closing at 8 pm on a Saturday?!<br />
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This led to a bitter Philly taste in our mouth and we turned around and headed back to our car. The parking attendant first aggravated, then amused us. We stood on the second level of the garage waiting for our car which was in plain sight and more than likely still had the keys inside. We watched as he pulled another customer's car out, then attempted to back another car into the empty spot, while in the process swiping the car against another two times.<br />
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He only helped to add to my list of reasons not to go to Philly.<br />
<br />JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-54274981992599928272015-01-13T15:00:00.003-08:002015-01-14T07:30:34.115-08:00#168 He Sells<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
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My most exciting news for this past weekend, though definitely exciting, is mostly bittersweet.<br />
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We listed our home for sale on Saturday.<br />
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It is something we have talked about for over a year.<br />
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Hubby drives an hour each way to work every day. He also is moving up in the world which means longer hours. Combined with his long drive means that I barely see him during the week. <br />
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But talking and actually doing are vastly different things.<br />
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Finding our first home was a journey filled with gulps of hope and hiccups of disappointment. In the year we were engaged, neither of us were at our permanent full-time job, so deciding on the location was pretty much a shot in the dark.<br />
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I don't recommend taking shots in the dark.<br />
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Fortunately, every home we bid on fell through until we found a home not only perfect in location for our future jobs but also perfect in size for our unnecessary bulge of worldly possessions.<br />
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I'm going to miss my kitchen.<br />
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I'm going to miss my bookcase hidden in the wall.<br />
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I'm going to miss the porches we updated only months ago.*<br />
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*Could August really only have been <i>months</i> ago?<br />
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Ordinarily, I'm not one to get <a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2013/01/85-he-lets-me-keep-decorations-up.html" target="_blank"><b>sentimental over things.</b></a> I like my things, but I don't pour my emotions into them.<br />
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Still I think this first home of ours is going to be hard to walk away from.<br />
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I know there is better out there. I know there are new and exciting things that wait. Yet part of me is going to yearn for the irreplaceable things like the wooden planks and brick walls that make up our first home together.<br />
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-59521399918273647332015-01-05T15:08:00.004-08:002015-01-05T15:08:47.052-08:00#167 He Values His Hobbit Hole<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #660066; font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Weekend I’d Forget<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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"<i>If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. </i></div>
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<i>But, sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell."</i></div>
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<i>-The Hobbit, The Return Journey</i></div>
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Yesterday, we went to see the final <i>Hobbit </i>movie: <i>The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies.</i></div>
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I must live under a rock, because I didn't realize the book had been broken into three, that's THREE, films until the credits started rolling as Hubby and I sat in the theater last year watching <i>The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug.</i></div>
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I might have shrieked a little over that. Especially since they really, really, really could have finished the book in two movies rather than stretching it out into a third.</div>
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Regardless, I naturally wanted to see the third.</div>
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Before going any further, I should probably let you know that I am not a geek for <i>The Hobbit.</i></div>
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Get all your gasps of shock out right now.</div>
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It just seemed like one of those books you are supposed to read. Somehow, I hadn't. So I did.</div>
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Of course, after I read it, as is the natural desire of most readers, I wanted to see how well my mind's eye of the story and Hollywood's view of the story would relate.</div>
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I'm not going to get into that because while the characters and scene choices are wonderful, drastic changes were made to the story line. I'm a purist and can't manage to wrap my little brain around trying to understand why a story would ever need to be drastically changed when put into movie form.</div>
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Especially with the computer graphics we are capable of creating today.</div>
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(Note: If you don't know how <i>The Hobbit </i>ends and don't want to read one of the major details of the end---stop reading here.)</div>
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That said, I press on to the quote that struck me during the movie. It was stated a little differently in the movie than as was written in the book (the quote at the top of this post), but the sentiment is still the same.</div>
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In the movie, as Thorin Oakenshield, the Dwarven king, lies dying, he speaks to Bilbo. After making mends with Bilbo over a previous altercation, he says, "<i style="text-align: center;">If more of us valued home above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world,"</i></div>
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Upon hearing that quote, I thought about the money hungry of our world, of those who seek only power and prominence, regardless of its cost. I thought of how nations destroy one another in order to be at the top, to rule it all. This thought that Thorin realizes only too late in life, brings me to pity those like him who only value "hoarded gold". </div>
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I pity that they probably never knew a home good enough to long for over riches.</div>
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When Bilbo begins his adventure with this group of dwarves far different from himself, the only things he wants for are his hobbit hole, his tea time, and the warm food of his home. Knowing there are treasures ahead, he many times still wishes to return to the comfort of his home.</div>
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While gold and adventure both have their time and place, considering the merriment of home helps to keep me humble. It makes me heartbroken for those without a true home, their own place of comfort where there is food, cheer and song. And it reminds me when my head gets a little to big, when I start to lose focus of what is most important, that ultimately I am happiest when I am in my own little hobbit hole. </div>
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-79421529461397710992015-01-02T15:31:00.001-08:002015-01-02T15:31:07.511-08:00#166 He Finds Good ThingsOn New Year's Eve last year, I posted about the <a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2013/12/120-he-takes-cup-of-kindness-to-2013.html" target="_blank"><b>highlights of 2013</b></a> here at <i>Somewhere That's Green. </i>Though it had not been my intention, doing so helped to change my perspective when reflecting on the year. Too often, our gut instinct is to down play our year. But when I look over everything that I have cataloged through blog posts and pictures throughout the year, I am always amazed at how much happened.<br />
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While nothing so spectacular as discovering the cure for cancer or hitting the lottery occurred in my life, the things that did happen were wonderful and worth celebrating.<br />
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To me, New Year's shouldn't be about letting out a sigh of relief that the previous year is over. Instead it should be about gaining a breath of excitement for the opportunity to make the next year even better.<br />
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I've seen a lot of bloggers commit to starting a <i><b><a href="http://scathingly-brilliant.blogspot.com/2014/01/good-things.html" target="_blank">Good Things Jar</a> </b></i>and I have decided to do one, too. I see it as my reward on New Year's Eve for being positive during the year. After all, there will be some things that happen that I won't have a chance to capture on film or I might not be able to write an entire blog post about, but I can certainly scribble a sentence down on paper and toss it into a jar.<br />
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That said, if I had started a Good Things Jar last year, here are a few things that might have been included:<br />
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<i>February</i><br />
<b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/02/125-he-hates-surprises.html" target="_blank">Our trip to Baltimore</a></b><br />
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<i>May</i><br />
<b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/05/132-he-loves-his-family.html" target="_blank">Wedding in North Carolina</a></b><br />
<b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/07/134-he-turned-t-h-i-r-t-y.html" target="_blank">Hubby turned 30</a></b><br />
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<i>June</i><br />
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<b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/07/133-he-lets-me-take-break.html" target="_blank">The entire month of June</a></b><br />
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<b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/07/135-he-does-vegas.html" target="_blank">Our trip to Vegas</a></b><br />
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<i>July</i><br />
<b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/10/151-he-attends-recitals.html" target="_blank">My return to the violin</a></b><br />
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<i>August</i><br />
<b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/08/136-hes-got-dream.html" target="_blank">Writer's Digest Conference</a></b><br />
Our trip with Jonathan to: <b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/08/139-he-goes.html" target="_blank">Knobels</a>, <a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/08/140-he-loves-football.html" target="_blank">Pro Football Hall of Fame</a>, <a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/09/141-he-doesnt-need-me-to-drive.html" target="_blank">Jamestown, NY</a>, and <a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/09/142-he-loves-falls.html" target="_blank">Niagara Falls</a></b><br />
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<i>September</i><br />
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My first time in the <b><a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/09/148-he-climbs-empire-state-building.html" target="_blank">Empire State Building</a> </b>and the start of <i>Weekend I'd Forget</i><br />
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<i>October</i><br />
Our first<b> <a href="http://gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/10/154-he-embraces-different-cultures.html" target="_blank">Pakistani wedding</a> </b>and my first time in a saree<br />
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You might not start a <i>Good Things Jar, </i>but see if you can find the good in each day of the year, rather than the bad. It will make not only your New Year's Eve, but your entire year that much more enjoyable.<br />
<br />JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-70598063674216350992014-12-29T10:34:00.006-08:002014-12-29T10:36:00.621-08:00#165 He Shops Every Level of Macy'sDid I miss <i>Weekend I'd Forget </i>last weekend?<br />
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And perhaps the weekend before?<br />
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Yes.<br />
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And I loved every minute of it.<br />
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While the past two weekends held moments that were <i>Weekend I'd Forget </i>worthy, in order to have truly enjoyed them, to have let them absorb into the depths of my being, there was no way I could blog about them. <br />
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I have been busier this holiday season than ever before. At first, I thought, <i>How can this be? This year was like any other.</i><br />
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Then I realized I was fooling myself. This year has been quite unlike any other, especially the past three months. In October, I lost my senses and started a <b><a href="http://theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/2014/10/recipe-book-challenge.html" target="_blank">recipe challenge</a></b> committing myself to cook 65 new recipes in less than three months. In November, I started a new job, then baked for three days straight for <b><a href="http://theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/2014/12/recipe-29-30-31-scones-pie-and-rolls.html" target="_blank">Thanksgiving breakfast.</a></b> In December, I tried to juggle it all from making dinners to fulfill my recipe challenge to practicing violin for the lessons I began in July. Somewhere in there I scrambled together time to blog, Christmas shop, and spend time with family.<br />
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I reached the days before Christmas slightly out of breath and certainly ready for the two week break from work. I have only begun to kick my feet up and relax.<br />
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My house this week has been flooded with wrapping paper, bows, shopping bags, and boxes. Even my organizational side has loved every second of it.<br />
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Saturday, Hubby and I spent the entire day in NYC, and I may have once or twice begged him to throw care to the wind and find an apartment there to rent with me.<br />
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Thank goodness he practically reminded me how expensive the city would be for our wallet.<br />
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I then pled with him to compromise and move us to the outskirts of the city.<br />
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I'm thinking it is still a 'no'. <br />
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We ate delicious food, walked around the shops at Bryant Park, and then shopped every single level at Macy's.<br />
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It was wonderful and all too soon I had to return to the reality of my little corner of New Jersey.<br />
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But that's okay. There will be other weekends.<br />
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JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4840017870077963267.post-33951126054405336542014-12-09T19:58:00.001-08:002014-12-09T19:58:09.241-08:00#164 He Still Dates MeI could have rushed this post out last night, I could have even rushed it out a few hours ago, but I wanted to make sure I took time and care for this post. <br />
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It's that awesome.<br />
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It's that important.<br />
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It's that life changing.<br />
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Naturally, the topic is food.<br />
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I'm sure you're wondering, <i>Why not write about that over at <b><a href="http://www.theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The Orange Strainer</a></b>. You know, your FOOD blog? </i><br />
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Well, ordinarily that would make sense. Although when consideration is taken, one would realize that would mean taking a pause from my<b> <a href="http://www.theorangestrainer.blogspot.com/2014/10/recipe-book-challenge.html" target="_blank">recipe challenge</a></b>. Also, this was the highlight of my weekend, therefore, it falls predominantly under <i><b><a href="http://www.gosomewherethatsgreen.blogspot.com/2014/09/148-he-climbs-empire-state-building.html" target="_blank">Weekend I'd Forget.</a></b></i><br />
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On Saturday night, life didn't go as planned. Since life didn't go as planned it meant that I didn't cook dinner. Since I didn't cook dinner it meant we needed to find somewhere to eat our dinner. Since we don't like to go to just any old chain restaurant, Hubby suggested going to <b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/BuenProvechoRestaurantCafe?fref=photo" target="_blank">Buen Provecho</a></b><i>. </i>We've known about Buen Provecho for sometime now and had it on 'the list' of places we want to go to eat.<br />
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It's easy to get stuck in a rut.<br />
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We were stuck in a rut.<br />
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Here's to not being stuck in a rut in 2015!<br />
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Although, after going to Buen Provecho, we might possibly have been convinced to become stuck in a rut with them. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/15793106058" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Screenshot_2014-12-06-19-31-29 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="Screenshot_2014-12-06-19-31-29" height="640" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8656/15793106058_c7fd91d397.jpg" width="359" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hubby felt the need to include me in his Snapchats.</td></tr>
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I'm going to be a little nontraditional here and start with dessert.<br />
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If I could survive souly on desserts, I absolutely, positively, would. I get upset that bakeries typically close in the early afternoon, and dream of opening a line of bakeries that don't open until late afternoon and stay open until 2 am--at least. Then, life would be positively divine.<br />
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The coffee alone is a reason to make Buen Provecho part of your world. The espresso beans they use come from Puerto Rico and it didn't take much to convince me to buy one of the remaining bags they had for sale. It isn't overly bitter, and though they gave us sugar and an adorable teeny spoon for stirring, I didn't need it. For dessert they have a few homemade offerings. Hubby and I heard "fried cheesecake" and knew that was the dessert for us. Hubby ordered the guava fried cheesecake and I got the oreo one (the third option was apple--that will be for next time!). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/15793198700" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="20141206_202533 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20141206_202533" height="640" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8660/15793198700_5c019d0b81.jpg" width="458" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guava Fried Cheesecake--yum.</td></tr>
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My greatest regret is that I was so full from dinner I couldn't lick my plate clean. <br />
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If you are anything like me, you are still trying to wrap your brain around 'fried cheesecake'. This isn't your boardwalk fried cheesecake that is frozen, dipped in batter, and thrown in oil (still delicious, for sure!). Think fancy churros, rolled with cheesecake filling, and served with a healthy scoop of vanilla ice cream.<br />
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For dinner I had an extremely difficult time making a decision on what to order.<br />
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This, however, is normal for me.<br />
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Hubby ordered my first choice, "El Jibaro" Churrasco: angus beef skirt steak grilled with white rice and beans. I knew this was going to be great, but certainly couldn't order the same meal. Hubby was impressed with the tenderness of the meat and the flavors that lasted through each and every bite.<br />
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I ended up ordering, "El Cialeno": mashed plantains stuffed with chicken. Ordinarily, plantains don't do anything for me. They're okay, but not something I need in my life. The mashed plantains are formed into a bowl and laced with crispy delight. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the flavors of not only the chicken that filled my plantain bowl but also of the mashed plantains.<br />
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The problem? I only could eat about a quarter of my meal. Our appetizer had been so fantastic, that I forgot to pace myself for the main attraction. <br />
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I foresee ordering this appetizer as my meal on a future visit to Buen Provecho. I snapped a picture of it after Hubby and I had already taken a helping of a few of the samplings. "Sortido Boricua" is their sampler of fried native cheese, stuffed plantain crisps, codfish fritters, and empanadas. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/96774103@N08/15358225064" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="20141206_193757 by Jessica Weer, on Flickr"><img alt="20141206_193757" height="359" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7524/15358225064_23ca9bb8a7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our appetizer, after we devoured half of it!</td></tr>
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Do you ever go to a restaurant and order the sampler knowing that one of the items you won't touch, but you love everything else so you imagine that overall it must be worth the price? That's not the case here. I wish I could pick a favorite, but I simply can't. I will say this though, the cheese amazed me and I love that the empanada includes three different meats instead of only one. <br />
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If you live in NJ, make Buen Provecho a part of your <i>Weekend You'd Forget</i>. You won't regret it.<br />
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Remember, save room for dessert!<br />
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<br />JLWeerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13498335755771424143noreply@blogger.com0