tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-180005252024-02-28T05:24:02.923-05:00delicious ambiguity"Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity."
~Gilda RadnerBeckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-4508121843390884622013-07-02T11:32:00.002-04:002013-07-02T11:32:28.460-04:00Where to Have a Baby?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The decision to have a home birth was a pretty simple one for us.<br />
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I knew I wanted a natural birth and I hate hospitals. Hospitals scare the pants off me and every time I am in one (whether visiting someone or being in one myself), I am crazy uncomfortable. I can't actually pinpoint exactly what makes me so uncomfortable about hospitals. It may be a combination of the attempt to make everything sanitary, the machines and wires, the doctors and nurses always hustling around, feeling like I'm always in the way, and the plethora of weird rules and regulations. Not to mention the association with illness and death and that overwhelming hospital smell (what IS that?).<br />
I just have an impossible time trying to relax among all of those things and I knew that relaxation is the key to a smooth and pleasant (as can be expected) labor. I feel that the act of bringing a baby into the world is one of life and celebration and peace and the hospital setting seems (for me) to be counterintuitive to that.**<br />
So, needless to say that the hospital was never an option that was on the table for us. <br />
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The other option we explored was a local birth center. The birth center specializes in natural birth and is located across the street from a hospital, so it's a popular choice for mothers looking to birth naturally but who may be concerned about complications and want to have a hospital nearby.<br />
My hesitation with the birth center was that it is 40 minutes away on a good day without traffic. I really disliked the idea of spending 40 minutes laboring in a car. Also, the birth center had a waiting list. So it didn't take long for us to take that option off the table, too.<br />
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A lot of women in Philadelphia choose to birth at the birthing center in Pennsylvania Hospital. The center has a widwifery practice and specializes in supporting natural birth, but is IN the hospital, which also gives many women comfort in case anything goes awry.<br />
We live less than 2 miles from this hospital (and 3 other hospitals) so we figured if we needed to go to the hospital, we could get there easily and quickly.<br />
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The concern over something going wrong in my pregnancy occured to me for maybe a day. Honestly, I just wasn't worried. I was healthy and without any risk factors and I found confidence in knowing that the women in my family have all had fairly easy deliveries. <br />
I wanted to labor and give birth someplace safe, warm and familiar. I didn't want any kind of audience. I wanted zero interventions. Home just seemed like the most natural place for us.<br />
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The model of care in a home birth midwifery practice is a lot different than a traditional OB/GYN setting. My appointments lasted at least an hour each time, and covered things like nutrition, my activities, my ailments, measuring the baby, checking my bloodpressure, and a discussion of any other questions and concerns I had. EVERY visit was like this (except my home visit). I spent the early part of my pregnancy seeing my regular OB practice and it was not the same. No one asked what I was eating, or what kinds of activities I was doing. They checked my weight and blood pressure, felt my belly, and sent me on my way. I'm sure there are people out there who will disagree with me, but I felt the experience with an OB was far less personal.<br />
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Some women who have home births opt not to even get ultrasounds. We figured that since we weren't birthing in a hospital, we wanted to know what we were dealing with up front, so that we could be prepared just in case anything was amiss. We opted not to find out the sex (and I'm SO glad we did, it was a great motivator during labor, even if I did forget to check as soon as he was born), so other than confirming our baby was healthy, we didn't get to see him too much while he was in utero. (As it got late into my pregnancy, my midwife never checked me for dilation, either. In my case, ignorance was bliss.)<br />
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Throughout my pregnancy, my midwife gave me books to read (she has a lending library in her home office), and suggested supplements and foods to help with any issues I was having. She recommended chiropratic adjustments to help get my pelvis all lined up and ready for labor, and to help with some minor back pain, and encouraged me to run, swim and do yoga as long as I wanted. The whole experience was a holistic approach to supporting me in my pregnancy, while treating it like a natural life process and not a medical procedure. <br />
While it may not be the best decision for everyone, it definitely was for us. The whole experience of working with a home birth midwife made being pregnant as enjoyable as can be expected when a person is 9 months pregnant in the middle of July. I cannot wait to do it again (someday).<br />
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**Disclaimer: I would NEVER, ever recommend a home birth to someone who is nervous about giving birth or worried about things going wrong (nor would I ever try to persuade this person into having a home birth). It is my personal belief that in order for a home birth to be a positive, safe experience, a woman really needs to embrace the idea and be confident and relaxed about her ability to give birth. If you're nervous about giving birth and prefer the comfort of having traditional medical professionals nearby, a birth center is a much safer choice.<br />
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<br />Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-59294841897898246432013-04-24T15:07:00.004-04:002013-04-24T17:00:10.707-04:00Labor Day: How Hard Can It Be?On actual Labor Day (September 3), I was at a friend's barbecue, 39.5 weeks pregnant and sporting a thrift store t-shirt that read "Labor Day: How Hard Can it Be?" Andrew snagged it for me on his most recent excursion to Village Thrift and we both thought it was completely hilarious. I went to the barbecue just so I could wear the shirt. If it were any other day, I would have been sleeping away, but I really wanted to show off this shirt.<br />
I ate some spicy shrimp and drank some lemonade and told everyone I would see them in a couple days because there was no way this kid was coming in the next week. No woman in my family has ever had a baby early, and I was absolutely confident that I was not going to be the exception. So much so that I had several things still to do at work and around the house in preparation. I was trying to drag them out so I wouldn't be sitting around bored out of my mind for the next two weeks.<br />
We went to bed around 11pm. At 3:28,am I woke up with cramps. I rolled over and went back to sleep. Ten minutes later, I had more cramps. I tried three more times to go back to sleep before I decided that I should time my "cramps" and see how far apart they were. The next three "cramps" were 7, 5, and 3 minutes apart, respectively. At 4am, I got up to go to the bathroom. By this point, I was clear that these "cramps" were in fact contractions, but I wasn't sure they were for real. I downloaded a contraction timer app while I was in the bathroom. Originally, I thought an app was a stupid idea but I realized pretty quickly that there was no way I was going to be able to keep track of these on my own. For the next hour, I sat in the bathroom (or hunched over the bathroom sink) and timed contractions. They were all about 2 minutes apart and lasting about 45 seconds each. They didn't match up to any of those 4-1-1 or 5-1-1 rules, but it had been an hour, so I texted my midwife, Christy. She called me saying that it sounded like I was in actual labor and suggested waking Andrew up for some extra support and that she would check in on me in an hour. I had been in the bathroom for about an hour and a half and Andrew hadn't even noticed I was gone so I could have easily let him sleep longer, but I figured he would be bummed if I let him sleep too long. Even though I didn't feel like I needed the support, I did need someone to take the dogs over to our friend's house. So I gently tried to wake him up. He shot out of bed like a crazy man (as I'd always imagined he would if it went down this way), and he went right downstairs to send emails to his work, and to our friends to let him know he was bringing the dogs over. (What? You don't check your email at 5am? Neither do our friends. I'm glad I texted them. Emily told me later that she didn't see the email until 10am. I think he was so excited he wasn't really thinking straight.)<br />
Andrew took the dogs over (those are good friends who let you drop your two insane dogs off at their house at 5:30am) while I swept and vacuumed for about 4 minutes. My contractions were too intense to do anything but focus on them when they came. I had a hunch things were progressing quickly. I had heard all of these stories about women who go out to eat, clean their houses, go to yoga-all while in labor.<br />
This was not me.<br />
My labor was active from the first contraction. Which, honestly, was how I had hoped it would be. We had planned a home birth so I was able to labor and move around as I pleased the entire time. There was no rush to pack a bag or get to the hospital, which I feel allowed me to just relax and be totally present for the whole experience.<br />
I was tolerating the contractions well, still every two minutes or so. At 6am, Christy called to check in. She listened to me have a contraction over the phone, said it sounded like I was managing well and that she would make her way over in the next few hours. At this point, I emailed my boss that I wasn't going to be in that day. Or the next day. It was storming outside, complete with thunder and lightening. The whole summer had been impossibly hot, so it was a welcome cooling. The storm got more intense as the day went on, and I found it somehow fitting and strangely peaceful. <br />
For the next two hours, I swayed and breathed my way through each contraction. I was intensely focused. The contractions themselves were intense but not at all unmanageable. They were painful but not excruciating. I have a very high tolerance for pain and knew that I would be able to manage the pain pretty well. I also knew that I wouldn't be screaming and yelling and would instead be very inwardly focused. I guess I've inflicted enough pain on myself over the years to know exactly how I react. A bizarre blessing in disguise, I guess. But both Andrew and my midwives knew this about me, so they were very hands off. And that really worked for me.<br />
At one point, I thought I might try getting in the tub. It wasn't very comfortable and I didn't like being in a seated position at all. I was in the tub when Christy arrived and she said I could stay as long as I like but that the heat may slow things down a bit. I got out immediately. No need to drag this out any longer, amiright?<br />
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Christy and Jill (my other midwife) set up shop in the bedroom and Andrew set up shop in my office down the hall. I didn't need him just then, but I wanted him close by just in case. At this point, it was around 8:30, I think. I continued to labor on my own for a bit and then Christy checked to see how I was progressing. After 5 hours of labor, I was 6cm dialated. I think I gave Andrew a high five. I was really excited. Things were moving fast and I was feeling good. I labored on while it poured and thundered away outside.<br />
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I ate some ShotBlox and took some sips of water in between contractions. At some point, I asked Christy to tell me when I was in transition. I knew it would be motivating because its means the end is usually pretty near.<br />
I continued to breathe very intensely through each contraction. I heard Christy say to Jill "you can tell she's a singer, listen to that breath control." It was a comment that was directed at me, but it was very empowering nonetheless.<br />
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Around 11, my contractions started to pick up and I asked Andrew to come help me through some. He did a few with me, but they were too intense and I felt like I needed to focus on them so I let him off the hook. I should add here that I was on my feet for the entire time I was in labor until I started pushing. For whatever reason, standing was the only position I felt comfortable in. By this point, the contractions felt like they were back to back, without any rest in between. I was getting tired (maybe because I stood the whole time?!) and I remember saying "I don't want to do this anymore." And Christy replying, "you're in transition!"<br />
I knew the end was at least in sight and that helped me push through the rest of transition, which lasted about 45 minutes. It was the most intense part of labor, for sure, and there were times where I felt like I was wildly out of control. I wasn't, but it felt that way. The pain was searing and intense but I just focused every ounce of my being on my breath. Over and over and over. I remember feeling like I was thinking so clearly in my head but I could not speak a word. Under any other circumstances that would have been insanely frustrating for me. But my midwives seemed to be able to sense what I needed (because they are AWESOME) and it made me not worry about communicating verbally.<br />
Around this time I felt like I wanted to push. I don't know if I actually <i>needed</i> to push, and in hindsight, I don't think I actually did. I just <i>wanted</i> to. From this point on, Andrew stayed by my side. He was attentive and patient and offered assistance where he could without crowding me, which is (I think) exactly how partners should be in this scenario.<br />
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I started out just squatting on my own. It was very much like what I pictured when I pictured primal women going out into the woods to have their babies (I couldn't even do a squat before I got pregnant, which speaks to the inutitiveness of the body). After 15 minutes of this, I think she could sense I was getting tired, so Christy set up a birthing stool for me and I continued to push on my own for I would guess another 25 minutes or so without much movement.<br />
Christy suggested I try a different position to help move things along. I had read you're supposed to change positions every 3 contractions but I definitely did not.<br />
I got onto the bed but being on my back was super painful. I immediately rolled onto my side. Christy suggested I push with one leg in the air while on my side.<br />
I was as comfortable as a person can be while in labor, so I didn't argue. At this point, my contractions were much father apart and I got some actual time to rest in between them. Jill kept putting cool cloths on my forehead (do they do this in the hospital? If not, they totally should) and offering me sips of water. They were also putting pellets of a homeopathic plant, <a href="http://www.herbs2000.com/homeopathy/caulophyllum.htm">Caulophyllum</a>, under my tongue to help make my contractions longer. (Andrew thinks homeopathy is silly magic, but it totally worked.)<br />
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From this position, my pushing was much more productive. Christy instructed me to push and then not relax my pelvic floor totally so that I could push a bit farther before each contraction was over. A few good pushes into it, my water broke. It was pretty much the only time I said anything and it was, "what WAS that?!" It was gross. I am so glad that didn't happen in public. It was about 15 minutes more of pushing before I heard Andrew say he could see the head. They asked if I wanted to look, but I was way too focused on getting the baby out and didn't want to get distracted. Andrew was holding my leg and Christy was helping with the baby's positioning. I think Andrew was also texting my sister in between contractions.<br />
I knew I was so close to the end, so I really gave it my all. (For the record, the "<a href="http://americanpregnancy.org/labornbirth/crowning.html">ring of fire</a>" is real and it is no joke.) One intense push and the head was out. I remember how excited Andrew was. I could hear it in his voice. At some point, Andrew and Christy switched places so that she was holding my leg so Andrew could catch the baby. Christy asked for one more push and just as a huge clap of thunder rattled the house, the rest of the baby's body slid right on out and into Andrew's hands.<br />
It was the most amazing feeling ever. I don't think I could ever put it in words. They put the baby right into my chest as it gave a single, loud cry. I think I said "ohmygod" about a hundred times as I held him to me and looked into his tiny eyes. And then I said "wait! what is it?" Andrew checked and said "we have a twig and berries!" Which is (if you know Andrew) pretty much exactly how I expected to find out the sex of our first born.<br />
He was 6 pounds, 13 ounces and 19.5 inches long. And we named him Simon Bennett. Simon because its an awesome name. And Bennett after Andrew's nana.<br />
I admired every single inch of him while Andrew snapped a bunch of pictures on his phone. Then he texted one of our first photos together (when Simon was just minutes old) to all of our friends and family. The photo was sweet and completely captured every emotion I was having just then. It also happened to capture my nipple, which I did not find out until about a week later. Andrew was so excited I cannot possibly be mad at him but, seriously guys, you can delete that photo now. <br />
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Simon was so alert and wide-eyed right from the start. It was all so amazing. He stayed right on my chest for the next hour and half while the midwives cleaned up, cooked me a hot breakfast (RIGHT?!) and did all the rest of their postpartum good stuff, like a load of laundry (YES.) After I ate, Andrew cut the cord (after I delivered the placenta, it was put into a plastic bag and tucked into bed with me while it was still attached to Simon-in case anyone was wondering about the logistics of that. You can read about delayed cord clamping <a href="http://www.scienceandsensibility.org/?p=5730">here</a>). After he was weighed and measured, I passed Simon to Andrew for some skin to skin time and got in a hot shower, which was divine. I came back to clean sheets and a warm bed and the three of us snuggled up for the rest of the rainy day.<br />
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And then, because I think it's hilarious, my sister's facebook status while I was in labor:<br />
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I love how she's giving everyone a play by play and then leaves them all hanging at the end. So awesome.<br />
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About an hour after Simon was born, I was talking to my sister on the phone and she asked if I would do a natural birth again. "Hell yes," I said. I know not all natural births are smooth sailing, and I feel very fortunate that mine was. Let me also add that my sister is no wimp herself, having delivered a 10 pound baby naturally just 3 weeks before I had Simon. But she did tell me that I was crazy and that she was glad she did it but would never do it again.<br />
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The decision to have a home birth warrants its own post, I think, but I will just say now that the experience was incredible. I would not ever have chosen to do it any other way and I have zero regrets. I feel very blessed to have had a smooth, active pregnancy and a fast (8 hours from the first contraction until the moment he was born), easy birth supported by a team of loving and sincere caregivers (this includes Andrew). The experience would not have been the same without each of their unique contributions. I am eternally grateful for Christy, Jill, and all of the love and support they continue to give us. I can only hope to have them all on my team for round two (which is NOT anytime soon).Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-32123080030945610692013-03-28T16:08:00.000-04:002013-03-28T16:08:09.238-04:00Catching UpI am the worst blogger ever. Have I said that before? I'm about a year behind on posts. Good thing I don't get paid for this.<br />
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So, I had a baby. That was six months ago. I know. I'm awful. I haven't even posted a picture yet. Part of that is because I'm sure 99.99% of the people who read this are just my close friends and get plenty of this on facebook.The other part is that I thought for a loong time about how to "announce" that without it sounding totally contrived and douchey. And then I just waited too long, so here's what you get:<br />
Simon was born on September 4 at 11:41am here at home. It was A.MAZING. The most incredible experience of my life, by far. Since his baby book may never get finished, I'm going post his birth story here. Then, I guess, if ever I forget it, the internet can hold it forever in it's tender immortal arms.<br />
Just in case you were worried, this isn't a mommy blog. I don't know crap about being someone's mommy. If you're a mom and your kid is still alive and (where age appropriate) is respectful to others and hasn't committed any felonies, I think you're probably doing ok.<br />
So I'm not an authority on mommyhood and you should probably not take my advice. That's my disclaimer. <br />
But I love Simon to pieces and he is totally amazing, so I will write about him. Probably a lot.<br />
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Okay. Here's to hoping I suck less at blogging this time around! <br />
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<br />Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-69227929732567200142011-08-18T22:18:00.006-04:002011-08-18T22:46:52.870-04:00Under the Knife Like Heidi MontagHello, whoever has not yet given up on this blog!!
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<br />I have so many excuses for why I haven't been keeping up with this lately! How's 5 weddings, getting hooked on The Wire (yes, I know we're super late on this), and having some badass back surgery?
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<br />I realize most "bloggers" continue doing this regardless of distractions but I'm not one of them and I have sworn an oath to myself that I shall never post multiple pictures of oatmeal (which is what those real "bloggers" do), so get over it. I'm a shitty blogger and I only do it when I have stuff to talk about, or when I'm motivated by Vicodin (as is the case right now).
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<br />That's from the back surgery, btw. As much fun as it is to pop a V for a bad headache, this is not one of those days.
<br />
<br />The short-long story is that after about 5 months of seeing a sports med doctor for lower back pain and a weird pain in my left hip, and trying all kinds of things like physical therapy and chiropractors and all that junk, I did some sleuthing and attempted to self diagnose my condition.
<br />I found an article on <a href="http://www.dynamicchiropractic.com/mpacms/dc/article.php?id=31867">eipsacral lipomas</a> and decided that they were what was causing the pain in my back. Everyone told me I was crazy and that I read too much, but I am nothing if not a motivated patient. I faxed the article to my Dr. and he suspected I was right. To find out if I was, he injected some cortisone into the lipomas in my back. Which he was SO excited about. He had never injected into soft tissue before. This was a totally new thing for him AND me. Which would freak out most patients, I'm sure, but for whatever reason made me feel much more comfortable that he was being very thorough. And a really good doctor is always excited to learn new things, no matter how long he's been in practice. I hope he can help someone else with the same problem some day. Because from what I've read, lipomas are so common and so rarely linked to pain (less than 30% of cases) that they are almost always overlooked.
<br />Anyhow, I felt like a million bucks the next day. Ran a bunch of miles, was a rockstar.
<br />A month later, he did another injection. And then, my body FREAKED OUT. A totally random and rare reaction that probably deserves its own post. Later.
<br />But the pain went away in my back AND my hip (magic!). It came back once the shots wore off, but that was to be expected.
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<br />Since I responded so well, we decided they (the lipomas) needed to come out. But because they're in my fat, I needed to have them liposuctioned out. Try getting insurance approval for THAT. I cried. It worked. And yesterday I went under the knife.
<br />I asked my doctor to go on ahead and take whatever fat got in his way. But my hips are still the same size, so I don't think he did.
<br />
<br />It will be a few weeks before I know for sure if it was a success. But that weird left hip pain feels almost 100% better. Every fiber of my being is itching to run (that could be the Vicodin talking). Its been almost a month. I am sure when I do finally get to run again, my soul will sing. And my lungs and legs will scream.
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<br />Did I also mention I haven't had a drink in a month, either? Lost about 5 pounds doing nothing.
<br />Probably some if it is muscle, but I'll take it.
<br />I wonder how much this will make me want lipo on the rest of my body. The recovery has been pretty tame so far.
<br />Move over, Heidi Montag!
<br />Kidding. I have no desire to be a robot. Just a hot soccer mom.
<br />
<br />Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-80169724367363452072011-05-02T12:49:00.001-04:002011-05-02T14:03:05.802-04:00Two Years In the Making<p>Remember last year, when I had all these <a href="http://ootoberfest.blogspot.com/2010/01/whats-up-2010.html">fitness goals</a>?</p> <p>Then, remember how I sprained BOTH of my ankles and none of them happened?</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB88EaxRaTJ9-G1Gp-t7srf7LKDcI8jml3Pd66gpNAAlBukTFwc23bj5ykncQiPNvUCBDDj99IpYMdq4O9D30IdGDG-SezArFyXgIbe0ql_PJjjizCnZ0DdTrGm8JAolymU2RW-A/s1600-h/legs%5B2%5D%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="legs[2]" border="0" alt="legs[2]" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-lOOMM9SoUvLtp4KjZBsxpNLEOr8MMtP2bCKx_3jP3HCPuKAE5l4NbS1Sv9Jw56LwT6w7JvPEBqggHhDtE03uzFTxth5EAHugyvSmnLiGpjfdhI54Na2jEKcjqfMrXkqbTQg3g/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p>Well yesterday, after two years of training, over training, falling, healing, 2 X-Rays, 1 MRI, 8 physical therapy sessions and countless miles logged,  I finally completed my first <a href="http://www.broadstreetrun.com/">Broad Street Run</a>.</p> <p>I found out last month that I have disc degeneration and arthritis  in my lower back, an awesome hip injury and some weird residual ankle hernia.  Last year, I had said I wanted to finish the 10 miler in less than 1:50.  This year, given my multiple injuries, I was hoping to finish in 2 hours.  </p> <p>It was basically the best day for a race. No wind, nice cool temps. The trick to this race is to not sprint out of the gate. The myth is that it’s all downhill. Its not. The overall gradient of the race is downhill, but there are definitely hills. So I went out, found a nice pace and settled into it.  Seconds before I crossed the starting line, I realized I had to pee. Like, bad.  I tried to ignore it and kept on. I figured if it got bad, I could stop at a porta potty. Or just piss my pants.</p> <p>I saw the first bunch of porta potties and the line was like 20 people deep so I skipped it.  Checked my time at the first mile mark but realized I had no idea what time I started so I made a mental note and checked in again at miles 3,4, and 5.  I had my Gu at mile 4. The first 5 miles were cake and I was running nice, steady 10 minute miles.  I passed 3 sets of porta potties all with crazy lines (don’t these people care about their times?!)</p> <p>At mile 6, I got a high five from the Governor. I was still feeling pretty great. Still having to pee. I saw lots of funny signs running through Center City: ”Running Takes Balls. Other Sports Just Play With Them” and “Not Too Late To Buy a SEPTA Token”</p> <p>At mile 6.5, I saw a lady doing Zumba alone on a corner. Bizarre and hilarious. </p> <p>The mile 7 marker was just outside my house. I looked for Andrew (and Ginny) but they weren’t there. He probably thought he missed me. How sweet of him to think I’m that fast. I was still feeling really strong and it kind of surprised me. </p> <p>At mile 8, I started to get tired and I could feel myself dragging a bit but I was running through my neighborhood so I just kept looking around for people I knew. And thinking about how nice it was that I didn’t have to stop for lights and worry about some jackass running me over.</p> <p>At mile 8.5 someone had “Eye of the Tiger” blaring.  My back was starting to ache a bit. I slowed to a quick speed walk  for a few seconds to drink some water. Then I picked it back up.</p> <p>Right after that was a little hill that I run all the time. I promised myself that I’d sprint it and I did. Then the fatigue really set in.</p> <p>At mile 9, I slowed to a fast walk for another few seconds to drink more water.   This was probably the most challenging part mentally and physically. My back was really hurting and I wanted to walk. My main goal was to not walk.  I spent half a mile debating whether I should walk for a bit.  I dug deep and told myself that walking for a bit wasn’t going to make my back feel better, and that it was just a mile more. (I have a crazy high tolerance for pain. Most people in my condition would have been in enough pain to walk at mile 7.  I am insane/crazy/determined. You decide.)</p> <p>At 9.5 miles, the crowd got rowdy. All the cheering really pumped me up and I picked up my race pace again (about 10 minute miles). We crossed through the Navy Yard gates and people around me started to sprint. I knew the finish was still 1/4 mile away so I held strong until I could actually see the finish line. Then I picked it up and gave it every last thing I had. It was a total blur, the crowds were yelling, the announcers were yelling, and I couldn’t feel my legs. I just ran as fast as I could (in between two people, sorry!) and crossed the finish line.</p> <p>The first thing I said was “Thank Fucking God.” Then I realized I had an ENORMOUS (seriously painful) blister on my toe.  Then I realized that at some point between mile 7 and the finish line, I didn’t have to pee anymore (I never did find a porta potty without a line and at some point I realized I cared more about my time than peeing). Then I was surprised that I wasn’t throwing up or on a stretcher. I survived unscathed except for a blister.</p> <p>I finished in 1:48 and some change. Two minutes less than last year’s goal.  Considering my injuries, I’d say its a pretty damn good time for my first stab at this race.  </p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR0QXlDiwJIND8Zp6v9ixQZld6oEliISRmHLBAvB_ILG8LwsTsA7hBe2OxdX2Sgi8Sfb4Dq5K_Wvs-VuHqFUYSqGb6wxCx4dlli0_Kf-QlGoJ1aj8l7BNivGnQUO3g40671Mc8Sw/s1600-h/Broad%20Street1%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="Broad Street1" border="0" alt="Broad Street1" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/Tb7grYtiSXI/AAAAAAAAAn8/K5vkBxadn0c/Broad%20Street1_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="263" height="337" /></a><em><font size="1"> Yay! I’m alive!</font></em></p> <p>I’m glad I spent all of last week walking and taking it easy. My legs felt fresh and my body rested.  I can say for sure now that I don’t really have any interest in racing half marathons or any distance above 10 miles. I think its a good distance for me to be competitive and not put any excessive stress on my already ailing body.  Call me crazy, but I would really like to be able to walk when I’m 50.</p> <p>Now that I know what the race entails, I think I can train smarter next year, and really utilize cross training and swimming to build strength without the impact of running 4 days a week.  </p> <p>Overall, it was a really fun race. Lots of distractions and things happening to keep my mind busy and my legs moving.  Also, everything about it was so aweseomely Philly: the people cheering (lots of them drunk), the insane amount of high fives I received from random people, the music (everything from the Rocky theme song, to marching bands to one random shirtless dude with a drum set outside his house) the encouragement of strangers, the cowbells, the fact that  the “sprinklers” were just open fire hydrants with things jammed in them to make them spray upwards. I basically spent the entire 10 miles people watching, laughing and holding my pee.</p> <p>And then I celebrated:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJzknC7LRoiK7wvDtFiyUA7uImzMHDYxPBmZ7_2mNCUUCbXhEEhFm4XBrTAbI_f_lBN1U6zARJvIYjdrcKoDKU75-f-gVIOs_zuHE9vwFrbmNpla-WgQADYzsR7FBUpzEXvXUzA/s1600-h/broadstreet2%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="broadstreet2" border="0" alt="broadstreet2" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/Tb7gsPmeGlI/AAAAAAAAAoE/KEYD6gcBIvM/broadstreet2_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="273" height="357" /></a> <em><font size="1">The only thing I wanted more than a beer was some meat.</font></em></p> <p>Now, I need to go lay in an ice bath and fix those gross tan lines.</p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-35125830916644030512011-04-12T10:47:00.001-04:002011-04-12T10:47:45.454-04:00Dear God, I Love Tina Fey<p>I know I haven’t posted in forever and this isn’t actually a post as much as it is cutting and pasting something I saw on the interwebs. </p> <p>My bad.</p> <p> </p> <p>Courtesy of <a href="http://suicideblonde.tumblr.com/post/4390914003/tina-fey-answers-the-proust-questionnaire-what-is">Suicide Blonde</a>:</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB5_RhNgDnDv_sqLTN3AwJf4iZk5EYnlcjuQgYq4KsFGb7UEt6Z-pQWB3ARpCnhr-oWo6sTTvYhPzJGhTMKG8Qh2Cnie6g4h5SjKZ8wTLo5RDmLL9HbrBa-aIAT77ZaXVBr5FEeQ/s1600-h/tinafey%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="tinafey" border="0" alt="tinafey" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLyNPbzWe4fxMJ4JmSAJWkAvFdhh6Q3BUnTm0tKOrtAWtIwybsT5Y3LbixAVmo1GhmE4mrM0xO-6rwWBc3Zui7PLC10k0pZn-SJOE-aZxh-cv5etZsjnkRF3jDK3KkzxCqhI0n4w/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="168" /></a> </p> <p><strong><font size="4">Tina Fey answers the Proust Questionnaire</font></strong></p> <p><strong>What is your current state of mind?</strong></p> <p>On the verge of nervous exhaustion, but only for the last seven years.</p> <p><strong>What is your idea of perfect happiness?</strong></p> <p>A glass of wine at sunset on Fire Island. / No homework.</p> <p><strong>What is your greatest fear?</strong></p> <p>Child, loss or damage thereof.</p> <p><strong>Which historical figure do you most identify with?</strong></p> <p>Catherine the Great’s horse.</p> <p><strong>Which living person do you most admire?</strong></p> <p>Cathy Rigby. She was really good in that stage version of <em>Peter Pan.</em> No joke.</p> <p><strong>What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?</strong></p> <p>Procrastination.</p> <p><strong>What is the trait you most deplore in others?</strong></p> <p>People who are proud of their ignorance.</p> <p><strong>What is it that you most dislike?</strong></p> <p>People who mock education as elitist.</p> <p><strong>What is your greatest extravagance?</strong></p> <p>Living in New York City.</p> <p><strong>What do you most value in your friends?</strong></p> <p>A willingness to come uptown.</p> <p><strong>What is your favorite journey?</strong></p> <p>Pulling up to my parents’ house for Christmas. Just pulling up, though—not the whole drive.</p> <p><strong>What is your most treasured possession?</strong></p> <p>A photo of my parents walking around the Acropolis circa 1965. They look like a poster for <em>Two for the Road.</em></p> <p><strong>What do you consider the most overrated virtue?</strong></p> <p>Natural childbirth.</p> <p><strong>On what occasion do you lie?</strong></p> <p>During press junkets for movies.</p> <p><strong>Which living person do you most despise?</strong></p> <p>Osama bin Laden. Unless we think he’s dead by now, in which case that guy who holds up the GOD HATES FAGS sign.</p> <p><strong>What or who is the greatest love of your life?</strong></p> <p>Jeff and Alice Richmond equally, but only because they look exactly alike.</p> <p><strong>When and where were you happiest?</strong></p> <p>Anywhere, during the 2 to 24 hours after a successful joke.</p> <p><strong>If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?</strong></p> <p>I would get 30 hours a day when everyone else gets 24.</p> <p><strong>What do you consider your greatest achievement?</strong></p> <p>Providing 200 people with a nice place to work.</p> <p><strong>If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be?</strong></p> <p>My husband and I would work less and my daughter would sleep more.</p> <p><strong>What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?</strong></p> <p>September 12, 2001.</p> <p><strong>What is your favorite occupation?</strong></p> <p>Being between jobs but having a good one lined up in about a month or so.</p> <p><strong>What is your most marked characteristic?</strong></p> <p>Obedience and a long nose. (I might be a collie.)</p> <p><strong>Who is your favorite hero of fiction?</strong></p> <p>Veruca Salt, Francie Nolan, Miss Havisham. That’s me in a nutshell, actually.</p> <p><strong>How would you like to die?</strong></p> <p>I would like to drop dead while introducing the “In Memoriam” clip package at the Emmys … on my 10,000th birthday.</p> <p><strong>What is your motto?</strong></p> <p>“Stop reaching for the stars!”</p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-1238697595324285572011-02-25T11:10:00.001-05:002011-02-25T11:17:57.822-05:00Birthday Recap<p>Yes, my birthday was last week.  But, to be fair, I like to drag out the celebrations as long as possible, which is why I haven’t posted this yet.  </p> <p>Okay, not really.  Its just because I’m lazy and I keep forgetting.</p> <p>Anyhow, it was great birthday: low key, relaxing, & a bit overindulgent.</p> <p>For starters, this showed up around 4:30pm on my birthday:</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXAizfzuEm0CxBfzeoXpruaVVzYhyphenhyphenexQTYNznZY3Ru7FeGoEhteD8T8COIP5lx_GF_uuCkeZpNK2gwj0WUZapfp-QRtvZTMVrzmlvKTBTg9kueXZUPrBBNpyMj29R0ZhSFkgJ1Q/s1600-h/CIMG3631%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3631" border="0" alt="CIMG3631" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGYkm0G-xybg6zXrDOAV9qtmsRAZf3MwhB2PgskVNKvj7ZnPGKs5b7PJL9G1TQcXfh0cd538zUI1oVhwkqkZ-abZdaFRR54wjAKItUN-VHA6LGTh3S0hkECEs7zeKoxeqeAO-2A/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p>OH HEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLL YES!  Thank you, <a href="http://odetorain.blogspot.com/">Emily</a>!!!</p> <p>Here is what was inside:</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzZJPOIp7InF-is5mx5kCvieUxm_m3wZbiJ3ypdCv7QMB7M237I8CyDc_W2Y7ow2JmCwrO0h3cpS9BWXYKPy6M1cg_n4aVpg7Ymxc1xUc1QuqoeDdJf6asTWYSiui_bleYbbTPiQ/s1600-h/CIMG3629%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3629" border="0" alt="CIMG3629" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwpqqq8N-5nR8d0Qb73zku9NvDlVujENRX4bPSYA3qL4vk9iS37pjYmFTBeIRhs-VGh4wrLwU1O3Fm_fwb9rt2gUDT2_ksjp9pIFWyCM9fT8zcoT_zC0ssVeoIJkMYByxnW4s59Q/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMS5OT5VMADIqiy4ArxYnuolZv0NJl82FpnBAagnwZGUaoneBWjb3RTUy8lPeZQ1OCUOfc3Esb8MSajgP4ssibuyqShTDkgttKDs625KvxPktlkxokSkjZM9gglGeCSbymDzASKw/s1600-h/CIMG3628%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3628" border="0" alt="CIMG3628" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TWfUbKLjxAI/AAAAAAAAAl8/3CWbpyrcaOo/CIMG3628_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p>The sad thing is that I didn’t even need a list to tell me what kind each was.  I have been stalking the <a href="http://www.crumbs.com/">Crumbs</a> website for so long, I already knew them all. Top row: cosmopolitan, red velvet, Elvis (banana and peanut butter). Bottom row: squiggle (like a hostess cupcake), half baked, tiramisu.</p> <p>I invited Karolina, Emily and her fiance’, Joe, to come eat them with us because I knew 3 things: 1)I did not NEED to eat them all myself (even though I could have) , 2) they would likely not survive more than a few hours alone in my house and 3) I ate the all of the cupcakes I previously intended to share (Alone. On a train.)</p> <p>Here is the aftermath:</p> <p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1kEs-6niSdhmIx4zU1SfDjX5efGt17KNA9OpOxKU91NSvWFbXdFhTd4hhaBDJ8Dmtam7lyJfKT5avMpsmE2ANUHIwFJxGjbPkIZbuWyvXpB8J-HzxrbQLdUEzYcM_h8J9bbW4Mg/s1600-h/CIMG3636%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3636" border="0" alt="CIMG3636" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6SRkR1mEOCIArzFmlOG_JQh1_-Ef-1V-CGNCX2HO3Nx-TYaCkEKEPq9vUtq3KlhjZCxTnpwlioqsoG7dHQYk7ph7tH3dwjtlaWrRBxEGTkAVWYT6xwPU32i_lVXbDb_D1rHxgmg/?imgmax=800" width="308" height="238" /></a></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p>It was the most divine, sugar induced hangover in the universe!</p> <p>Best. Birthday Present. Ever.</p> <p> </p> <p>A few days later, my sister, brother and niece came to town. I am obsessed with my niece, Grace.  She is pretty much the coolest person I know. </p> <p>The last time she was here, we took her to the Please Touch Museum, but she was a little too small for most of the things there.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikwmHU8zSJWbdh3zybEKfoywzNs64i2LqvcRN_wkWmtKXdsXJ8KiZfecFvzZXZeMdwMN6NUcboCIEkFxsXLItKXcwvg1jSQesdYrJHGri8MrGmnxD_oWWSMcHgQWnGHpgFFuNQJA/s1600-h/CIMG2275%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG2275" border="0" alt="CIMG2275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVK0aBaJ_H5x91nr25SOfV7Xws77CzcPdcZvQmpSQIpf42bwoofeLABt4_BzQw-QqBGUtIHB81sKRor1T9PomRGL55z2pmz4qfQAylJ5nOblAB7IW8UwskuQjHlj0sqsQ-wahDBA/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p>But this time, she was juust the right size:</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSgVxwB8NTPY5k5jU8oXlkEDK_2arGfwIBWukgfKybRGQ4YtbkggBihjFLmn4qWgffKqKC0Hc4a7N-WtD6nXkAd-FxtmkoU2WexFjqR9i8pD_VAwzgxsk0ZPwERlKpoKOmJWE2zg/s1600-h/CIMG3639%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3639" border="0" alt="CIMG3639" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIniZegfU4SVKAX73cgI7laUClf9n0JjIIKCg6QIbm2vSbg47iv9TrRzM9vH0yPvtB6i9G-5uzM653oRbAXK9nd1oAmubTiZ-2XtXSwDpAgu-xDP7o-749KAHZjsXWXWSmkMK0NQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip_j7iHxmmVm71pCx5zdV8jkYy9qoysLjGe2Pq0qz5JTF49xZDZNuQt-hCEeUM_SJkZdaABQPM4DtZMbujPxYw5TjkwFlTKl3WzXCCTNQ9IiXEwl9lf4dMc_eR9_NG-QIAmdworA/s1600-h/CIMG3640%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3640" border="0" alt="CIMG3640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCnoIrOjRHpRgQ80QrEDkBEI12MTR4PKO5fwWcKi5NIbsWAu1MhCFR7PokCuDKDtxLe6iO9_wOCP5NWWl06TzAaTies-IK9aYUIdmm28_t98qqnF3u4QO6L7nwNhabHz8QIBOL8g/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a><font size="1"><strong><em> Big fan of the slides</em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font size="1"></font></em></strong></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnqxFPkiwzcjrBJsns3Wwg-b72y9PD226qUzHAEwOXYtebhZiagiczjlbc4FO_-Hyx0kzWyW_smpiLgzix7NN_XM6U7OHfm0N-hvVz5RzVngmSDuFcwAesEEp0fpEUC-69Fm9tQ/s1600-h/CIMG3642%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3642" border="0" alt="CIMG3642" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFO_ZfS3RHgOJ0vLu2TTXpGoMsEMYVqdx-DFgPcjCgFqm5ICI1qFCANcO5Uy-0kljBgl41jbA8ii1vD8tJ1zw6FHjnUFi1h2tDkjvQKOfYLv3TQKxaObtcTJAFykLN35Db-GWkEw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><strong><em> Maybe still a little too small for this?</em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font size="1"></font></em></strong></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9v9v_WjmvcvKHMeM1qCafJnW0bnCp6S6q2jfv1h9xGjF_pVKtEzNcdsYdqM0rpd5vs-Gtll8JxlLssysF4zyo1o_C2VOaATg5aG7pENNIQSozW_VNBxbkLIN44tbeLil1u-WXTg/s1600-h/CIMG3647%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3647" border="0" alt="CIMG3647" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OQm_WwPkIlsMw0z1N3HN-8Tg2HUb9wvZwfxDCw0hqAtsRiZGj3uINcc_qD3A9iQ4-hEUADIPE1p1n-Z9JCiP8oV5ct61OgUE8d15Wva2_1PW74RtGnjLFbZaq4Ca2h8eQJKWnA/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><strong><em>Who doesn’t like carousels? </em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font size="1"></font></em></strong></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi35vM1f94fkil5_eAv6ypZB5iauK1iHlK_579CVi3_jKVINOV-NnxfF0uu_zGlNETSTnx9IvbDpq3hKVrPMEHZR8jJh5yiZHCCZElBkv9TDsPptHb2HJWugpTuZdbOB_uD18EBrA/s1600-h/CIMG3654%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3654" border="0" alt="CIMG3654" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilgUjXQBscvMFP55BduzijQrPAYDarM0fRMHziWT1V4qmY5sKs5GE6X4Ajq7-xV7hRhrISn7xwp4gaD4KxXs4Kpsa1yWKHZpHZhxalY13G4ZlDQ_J1DyRY9MSIIaGpSbUH2qk0cQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><strong><em>First she milked it, then she sat on it </em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font size="1"></font></em></strong></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRR1wA4vsVL8CVPg9sobOey8kURcFXPRXvhhSxXYqWVdDoAuuMMfracv_OURZnxO7E0A3Y6e9wVL2swueOTHffljFFRVtpBcGpUaHN3iMXBsasnucaXNr1DYzAkMiLDhyKlcE8ng/s1600-h/CIMG3655%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3655" border="0" alt="CIMG3655" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdgNd5retobIOeKmrM9J9d6KBSCO3cbvEjvXwCeAv5MkTjXZx76K3juMsWHggqsTJIyROhtgJHAN5UXsvMfaIdcFN2cUTa2CcXY6n5NAMVamve3gRFl42HpZa1qLq-wopgQjgwVg/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><strong><em>I am a bad influence </em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font size="1"></font></em></strong></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TWfUgey-7DI/AAAAAAAAAnA/8eu4ebiyYAI/s1600-h/CIMG3658%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3658" border="0" alt="CIMG3658" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNzBfUXc7jf6TYhhFc2j6P_Ngc20WH8ge-PAiUtGGpzuCNoi8NsAtb_VtS2kJURhZf5YI98wl8EBxz01i8m1GJyYTT_AvAsJ0-4Oxuel3fIU7rZgDIyea5G1i2-UWoWbn4Sl1V9g/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><strong><em>I’m on a boat, yo </em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font size="1"></font></em></strong></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaXnnFcH081q6P03FqCMMX9x23dfciWNBT-c2aWFZB8e84DY5-JDf-FJ3OgzEHV6Y5pPjaSodBPIcuvfOvwPYIeXtPDBnFn6lzcPDFrJ42KQfjsww3FLfW_6zTC_anjOwuVy9wvg/s1600-h/CIMG3661%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3661" border="0" alt="CIMG3661" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzJ87bq7B32qq60M66CAXON7WtPjFLYDPThMevvjGxLPgAWTmVV2Hx06oFXjcSPPj7fpYO7Co3u2vkGiJX0a5f4ZDjVCJWiLu2mBz9xWZ0Zt8-ca8ApopJauClugQ8Jpy_NkBZA/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYHQeycy2l2vNUTvrtVgD2x3oCWHjS8v5ZHwlu9fy8wxlEosA4vw-TipN5ZUlIrbjY_uo7vQLOAB7guVa4i7uLAZwjfdoAxQq-NIbkriIe7rI_rBRVIqVGlMNX39IGV93Ux-FLg/s1600-h/CIMG3662%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3662" border="0" alt="CIMG3662" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLkNxgXJLTFxk_kjh7RIhjoVoStsCA4yFP_x5RumEcQrnAz4esSwlquowqLtu-D4_P0vCiIhnLjS-Y60w2IfnxFbt8LlFjeOeCsITIXaax5PGnezyQZNrGcu2gKpfFv9bSPxV2og/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><strong><em>Amanda is a riot</em></strong></font></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font size="1"></font></em></strong></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUfuRjGMZMx7PKmKttUJybFRPKWUOFE8LHEr2gmJM4Il66W0zseKxIh4u6uEQ_UCda_f58MkH5ouS2NhmZYDqnXnwV9vXFKOxLxH4UguW1b1N8l_FTf1PQQR9dKm2gl8BFAFTWg/s1600-h/CIMG3665%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3665" border="0" alt="CIMG3665" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlzskEir63V3c0hVzWsBwcEzXYxpr2iHifihMvGZekjSbQ4VP9DAxDPH3ZRSJLISJfky9nyZFU1AowfYxwpiGSgAv0D-GwH8YADK97efmu3LqPBlkwLbpNwqBzSe53VUv92t7Eeg/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><em><font size="1"><strong>Again with the slides..</strong></font></em></p> <p align="center"><strong><em><font size="1"></font></em></strong></p> <p>Grace wasn’t feeling so well, but it was a lot of fun! I think Amanda and I maybe even had more fun than she did.  We also watched “Beauty and the Beast” about 17 times in 3 days. Its Grace’s favorite.  “Belle and Beast,” she calls it.  She knows all the words to the songs. I laughed so hard when I heard her sing it the first time, I almost peed my pants. (Yes, I was drinking, but still.)</p> <p>I love that movie but it will be okay if I don’t have to watch it again until I have my own kids. Or ever.</p> <p> </p> <p>On Sunday, we had some friends to our local bowling alley for a mini birthday party, complete with cake and pizza (and beer).</p> <p>Here’s my cake:</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ZEBugY8ggw7ufcaOGZDukwnSCD00iWhTHQPg2myYYaEbVns6Bc2OHcxZo3IAsCm95F2hoGM8BRNIZJx8FNKEAsWHfjjs8gahds6OeUBRGZ7a1G8qee4S1GKrs8ZJrgeiR5mm7Q/s1600-h/cake%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="cake" border="0" alt="cake" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TWfUi8c-xjI/AAAAAAAAAnk/L5IpArY8K68/cake_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p>Can you guess who liked it the best???</p> <p> </p> <p>So, now I’m officially 31. And its as if all of a sudden, my clocks are ticking and my body is falling apart.  I feel creaky and achy and my blood pressure rose unnaturally high when asked to get on the scale at the doctor’s on Tuesday. (Don’t worry, its ok, it was normal 15 minutes later)</p> <p>My doctor (bless her heart because I really do adore her) kindly reminded me that “things go downhill after 30.”  I’m not sure if she meant my body parts, my ability to stay in shape, my average daily caloric needs, or just my basic body functions, but its one of those things that maybe didn’t NEED to be said. Especially after going off birth control three months ago and being the only person in the entire universe to GAIN weight instead of lose it. Neat.</p> <p>I’ve been hearing that 30 is the new 20.  I’m calling bullshit because if that’s the case, then 31 is the new 21.  And I can ASSURE you that I am not (nor do I FEEL) 21. (Although some kind dude in Vegas last month told me I <em>looked </em>21). I cannot drink like I’m 21, I cannot run like I’m 21, I cannot walk up stairs like I’m 21, I cannot spend money like I’m 21, I don’t even drive as poorly as I did when I was 21.  Pretty much the only thing I do I now that I did when I was 21 is sleep.  And even recently, I’ve noticed I’ve been adjusting to mornings better. I only hit snooze about 3 times instead of 7 or 8.  Soon, I’ll be fifty, getting up at 5am, going to the gym, taking my pills and doing three loads of laundry before 8.  </p> <p>God help me.  It really is all downhill from here.  How soon is too soon to retire? </p> <p>Have a good weekend, kiddos!</p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-80257528777883000992011-02-14T16:28:00.001-05:002011-02-14T16:28:19.721-05:00Getting Jiggy Wit It<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7faCaziFFMxbZz_zYI8Grm7nbor3HBb3AV11UzbM7cygLqhEuvN7Zc6EvmuAA27GagLpp6Q_oVP1189XwIHWK8kJbxIJQ-Kql9cqa3cCVkvFfOhEXHFoEcAbktK6Vnw4MJl9KUQ/s1600-h/27834_ang%20wedding%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="27834_ang wedding" border="0" alt="27834_ang wedding" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCD8-PQ8WMGEGzF0BhdgM0y0OasePkGDrm6TV66aCJfG1ZW4DLX3sKkT0nk0L9Wnw-q9Ko8XcpRLS4uHr6jjj6XUZ57GFJAzIrZ83GBytGYQho3Yw84OITIYJUvHYhmtCVt_ba1Q/?imgmax=800" width="213" height="384" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyHDLvHXlmw3u1WhCLcBGxeGlKKLyKh1irEq6ect4dWP-NRgtJz94DvA0PldvjAUZgU7Uv20kIW-HHWkjDQi1r9RWP-RqgRXC3DaqHB7PUaqGOPcdZD22twnDvy5R2Bc6pxtO0jg/s1600-h/mouth%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="mouth" border="0" alt="mouth" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7zFDP8GA1CxtbDWDYdnwv_uf3x2Jda0uzokQBwxS54yz_YSRLNiHEkZrZznVccRRDf-H1nv6OSUL9Tpu9pSUBto7abiAqq1LLm9Xxpduy2hYFcuhFVAcFMpAlR-mekhK-C8ONww/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2hW_qeZxXWnIs8LVlIHOfJe11IS_5Y7cELE8xSUMedpCPn_8m4joj0FjL1gqvOilgjw4qJvTiPuTTQdJppe2d3J4_-zlwFU3PFgNqhfbVb1veMjDvJHOjHy6K28iqMA-cK1kwYg/s1600-h/girltalk%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="girltalk" border="0" alt="girltalk" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgk9e9p3PjGq9P5b51TFD4Y2EwBA429-RHxrgwz-Fri-J6eTWx4wtUfyjlPoqrA8ylXP7QOe3qtJDIoLYABubiXR9YA_CsZq3kiURjnGNzysdodKXDgDvhr4NF9fIY3eLwExMO4A/?imgmax=800" width="252" height="336" /></a></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh99p-fQuO-4ey-UNFbsVFg-1HndTm0XDyvFxxZsxFEnzStt1_9d0lsGZRrgja0qgMIEh70UTkZtP26R8BIicNLhROWUZ26jn0cLDw33IwACPhNmcTZx55E3XHw7Dnfmxp-QLqPMw/s1600-h/H&Swed%5B6%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="H&Swed" border="0" alt="H&Swed" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMdvXDUYrPwyp-L5hll6MFcRAnpn1LQcywbHFyoXEHRM4oIipj3W_e_GSAxWeJ6sgt4m08gDNWT0Cl0zfRLT4RUBJkEvdsBcWOf9F5OhMCw6Ru_T4Ql_0-McMlAyG4RYlXRYC8Q/?imgmax=800" width="272" height="405" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5MWf_hYmZEyWMidqLcjVLDfvl66fkpOW7hqrbfHAXDFFyirbsQb6yGTavK6qJ70UV8fH26DYZxprUfug8pZArteC8nsx6EQawtlAXd49qbNBlwKD-go5MxE0-X_Ky26FK79EXA/s1600-h/thanksgiving%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="thanksgiving" border="0" alt="thanksgiving" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TVmebNvG8FI/AAAAAAAAAlY/xLAhuPfpmc0/thanksgiving_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="326" height="240" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSHtBXSMYNuXqUp9dmOZZibrYP_eEaB94td8W7voSkDXfKQCcdIpG0eWiahSxkNgRPKtYOLc2-px_Jq-1-pIYowh9yTL3yiosbWzZb-7bTt5F4997Dgf01OEIbYBMU-vOFymhfVg/s1600-h/DSC_0203%5B7%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="DSC_0203" border="0" alt="DSC_0203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcWz2J1BZKJNxSPHatNXMdTEWQRpwkL7fOIKueH9BqFvoqXqoW_aH9SmnwDCScm8_V9TqvseFj9jr7RqDJxa0341NGmyNU7A3jpepsT40dNpte3ENrkI7ZfsPmPtlnfluGHd4TOg/?imgmax=800" width="384" height="338" /></a></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p>I feel like dancing!</p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-37413143538480799102011-02-10T14:28:00.001-05:002011-02-10T14:28:38.128-05:00the ass in class<p>I just sent this to my college magazine with the following caption:</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGioRPhBmu5WtOyrX3_AmhWfL9SA-R8EBQfyG4qTEeS0FWM937HtTakYUsoFwpzAMUM03ETBx_GVyFnEs8PgkpZgfKJYjbBSUZG5APuedBeaInTeK77V3l-XAxQzKrmCJQkFzLfw/s1600-h/abgroups3%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="abgroups3" border="0" alt="abgroups3" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9B8Sb3qUmp2IVJ1K5N4cYavoyCR4ZVcjYLycONRM0qtJhgSyHtWas7PRtvm2nEQ-0hoKqI_KvuUl9D3CnnHd_x3B6iSAJZL8dgWdh-uvn9gN3Joe8DWb05-XXTmISyJ7biDYp4g/?imgmax=800" width="369" height="287" /></a> </p> <p>Becky Oot ’02 and Andrew Marx were married on May 15, 2010 in Philadelphia, PA. Alumni in attendance were: Moriah Geaghan Jellison ’03, Jessica Casale, Allison Heishman ’03, Brian Norris ’05, Jill Kroos ’02, Jillian Matundan ’01, Eileen Kasda ’04, & Kate Dowling ’02. Becky would like to remind anyone thinking of submitting a wedding photo to the Washington College Magazine to remind your photographer to take the alumni photo at the beginning of the reception, and not the end, as in this picture.</p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p>I really hope they print that last part.</p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-10784883938631646012011-02-08T14:28:00.001-05:002011-02-08T14:28:56.070-05:00The Baby, the Bathwater, or Both?<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqW7bWDavcBk9AueNsgQg4AZQcb9RmvobgUsg4uO-ZJycwTErue-FEkcDIsV-lCfn58RjvmuLcUkyWYniYixqVp_H2w06oZEh68LcjbZJeUgKBBVPXzqirW5D3NLheHEBTW0g0tA/s1600-h/bath%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="bath" border="0" alt="bath" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVCVtNMv7GchCPHPQAWXftYDp1C-IEkRMuRADXp5FOCoYSmm9CVbyZEc5WldXuVuhSJCvY4KKx2rpcCrBYilz2FCf9Qv9tF3OJs2ghweVtaOkEZle8uo0nix27lit92dHNy0bww/?imgmax=800" width="321" height="221" /></a> </p> <p>All of a sudden, we’ve been talking about kids a lot.  Maybe that happens after you hit the one year mark and can high five your husband for  successfully getting through the “paper” year (and also for the satisfaction of knowing how many of your friends must have lost some money on their bets).</p> <p>Or maybe its because its just the next big life thing to do (before retire and die.) </p> <p>There are so many buzz words associated with having kids.  Like: “ready” and “expensive” and “sleep (or lack thereof)” and “career.”  Mostly the word “ready” though.  </p> <p>Almost every parent I talk to has said “you’re never really ready.”  Well, ok.  Do they mean that in the “nothing on earth can prepare you for kids and how much they will change your life” kind of way?  Or the “unless you have zero debt and $100,000 in the bank you aren’t ready” kind of way? </p> <p>I mean, really.  What does it MEAN when they say that?</p> <p>Because if being ready means that one day I will wake up and say, “hey, you know what? I don’t so much care for (or need) sleep anymore. Let’s have a baby!”  I’m pretty sure that I will, in fact, never be ready.</p> <p>And if being ready means having no debt and $100,000 in savings and a college savings account already set up, then no, I’m pretty sure I won’t ever be ready.</p> <p>And I’m a planner.  The annoying kind.  The person who has everything mapped out days/weeks/months/years/decades in advance.  I plan everything from my meals to my vacations. But the thought of trying to plan for a baby? Even I am humbled (nearly rendered immobile) by such a daunting task.</p> <p>Its not that I don’t WANT to plan.  Its just that it seems futile to try.  Sure, I will put money into savings and try harder to get up early.  But the idea of looking at a calendar and saying “I think we should plan to have a baby around this time” kind of ruins it for me. FOR ME!? The psycho planner extraordinaire? Yes. </p> <p>Because I am the kind of person who does not take it well when my plans fail, or change or get postponed.  And I just do not want to relate to pregnancy and having kids the way I relate to the rest of the things in my life.  I want to be surprised,  elated, and a little unprepared.  Not panicky unprepared. Just “YAY! Now this is happening and I thought maybe it might and that’s okay because I have several months in which to prepare a bit more” prepared.</p> <p>I want it to be a completely authentic and new experience for me.  </p> <p> </p> <p>Can I be Frank? (you can be George.)  I really don’t LIKE being a planner.  I don’t know exactly why I am so inflexible sometimes and it bugs the shit out of me.   I drive MYSELF nuts. I never let myself relax. It is like the most obnoxiously large character flaw. EVER.</p> <p>I know that having kids will turn my world upside down, and that it will literally force me to go with the flow and be more spontaneous. And I am SERIOUSLY looking forward to it.  I cannot wait to watch my stomach grow and stand on a scale and (for possibly the first time ever) know that the numbers are going up for a REALLY AWESOME reason.  I am so excited at the thought of having actual unavoidable  reasons for changing plans at the last minute and flying by the seat of my pants.</p> <p>Would I like to be a millionaire and not have to worry about how much money kids will cost? Sure.  But that is not a reality for most of <strike>America</strike> the world.  Millions of people make it work ( and genuinely want to make it work) every day (welfare recipients with 45 children excluded because they usually want to do anything BUT work).</p> <p>Every time we talk about having kids, I think of the movie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0387808/">Idiocracy.</a>   We are those people at the beginning, rationalizing away the desire to have kids.  (If you haven’t seen the movie, you should watch it just to find out how horrifying it is when the intelligent people of sensible means stop procreating and the welfare recipients take over.)  Its kind of a crappy movie but the point I’m trying to make is that I spend so much time planning things, that I rarely have the time to genuinely enjoy them.  And I don’t want having kids to be like that.  Call it selfish (although I don’t see how getting huge, quitting drinking for 10+ months and committing your life to the health and well-being of another human is selfish), but I just want to enjoy it.</p> <p>So if I get knocked up and I don’t have $100,000 in the bank and I haven’t woken up before 6am since I was a rower in college, it will be okay.  I will make it work. I have a great husband, a good job, a plethora of supportive friends and family, and a lot of sisters with hand-me-down baby clothes, and a lot of friends who can’t wait to babysit (right, guys?)</p> <p> </p> <p>I don’t want having kids to be another one of my well-planned ideas gone awry.  </p> <p>So I’d rather <strike>keep the expectation bar low</strike> not plan much at all. </p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-69798311244024016412011-02-07T15:21:00.001-05:002011-02-07T15:21:42.720-05:00Oh, Hai<p>Am I the only person who gets all sad and anxious on Sunday nights in anticipation of Mondays? It totally ruins the last few of my weekends, no matter how much awesome happened before it.</p> <p>And this weekend was no different. I fiddled with my training plan some more and got a massage on Friday. The plan was originally to do 4 miles of fartleks but I didn’t want to ruin my massage. Sort of like not wanting to ruin my manicure by folding laundry.   I took a rest day and instead spent many hours dancing my butt off at the Girl Talk concert. And drinking vodka. Heck yes.</p> <p>Saturday I ventured up to Drexel for the <a href="http://www.phillymaterials.org/">Philadelphia Materials Science Day</a>, which Andrew planned and executed. It was fun and really interesting. I heard a cool talk about how (contrary to popular belief) a good portion of the pyramids were cast stone, not carved. I also made some foam, helped build a giant nanotube out of balloons, and ate a cookie.  Andrew did a great job with the event, I am very proud of him!</p> <p>On Sunday, we had a family birthday lunch/dinner at <a href="http://www.ektaindianrestaurant.com/">Ekta</a>, which is the greatest Indian restaurant in the universe, and then watched the train wreck that was the Superbowl performers (I’m looking at you, Black Eyed Peas).</p> <p>And I did 5 miles on the treadmill. It was easy. As in not challenging and I didn’t even sweat that much easy.  My training plan has me doing my weekly long runs 30 seconds-1minute below race pace.  (This is for me only and for the purposes of injury prevention, some people may work up in speed and distance faster.) Either way, I cannot believe I’m saying 5 miles was easy.  I am giving credit to ample rest and the speed work I’ve been doing on my shorter distance runs. It works! Who knew?</p> <p>Here’s what I did this week:</p> <p>Monday: 3 miles at race pace (10 minute miles but I’m considering upping this to 9:30 or 9, depending on how my next long run feels)</p> <p>Tuesday: thebestyogaclassever</p> <p>Wed: 3 miles at 9:30</p> <p>Thursday: Off (sore)</p> <p>Friday: Off  </p> <p>Sat: Crosstraining & 30 Day Shred</p> <p>Sun: 5 miles at 10:15</p> <p>I really think that I need a Garmin for my race training, so that I can figure out my pacing and splits when its finally nice enough to run outside.  Does anyone have any good suggestions for ones that don’t cost 6 million dollars?</p> <p>I’m ready for the weekend.  </p> <p> </p> <p>Too soon?</p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-70176878363477576682011-02-03T12:21:00.001-05:002011-02-03T13:36:29.743-05:00Lets Talk about Yoga<p>Hellllllo, February! </p> <p>I’m probably the only person in the universe that likes February, but its because its my birthday month and I am really vain about my birthday.  I’m an Aquarius, what can I say?  And no, this is not my “new” sign.  I have always been an Aquarius and I don’t intend to attempt to re-identify myself as a Pieces after all of these years.  Turning 30 is identity crisis enough.  No need to add insult to injury.</p> <p>Anyhow, I like February.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggT1qsVQKlXLe30lLwzoL8wx_ENeIlx2uvbB8LymUw_qoK2MTSH-R8souzNXLVCg7WR4m0Y4TMT43P3BwbTAN_XfDAqC61jDDB2ka_LVkvxrNAFP83Mt3R6mqkOAhgeisha1gmiw/s1600-h/2%5B4%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="2" border="0" alt="2" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPsy0kKjKAbSBqPUV5ANiToT04kkvfJjvSL4Y85xTHUgcVaWZsdqflIHLA1h4XSMYCkJmCQoW4LWlZJfq6tSdm-mF4U7LKheRtrt61u0T-SyF_AUnxSRU6JY5KR01X2pCH5xpiwg/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a>                                             <font size="1"><em>Cake and gin & tonic, oh my!</em></font></p> <p>A lot of my friends (and both Andrew’s sister and mom) also have birthdays in February.  Its basically one huge month of celebrating, and I dig it.  </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPtakd-aoEbz1AqLV1ooKg_pZoTVayPpAsiBxaLYHjdwIOs1k3aOM3QPgHmvNh3K6oxf6vGm-ZJeHkoCA3Zia5sVyE7jnI9HTUAGieK5qFvkwNF942-wlL9KaaOImE4TuqF-zPvA/s1600-h/wedding%5B5%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="wedding" border="0" alt="wedding" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiphkS8ViH4k7d4TUfIKoUkpMUvml5lVsEDSt7IyA-qxQSNkSw6DDr5rNoympMRbz67kZNNsWk8rWcHUY4mt2BtMJFESfm8WIakAyNXn6l7bMXwg60CliLnXvMf6PVoxa2NSkM-jw/?imgmax=800" width="164" height="244" /></a><font size="1">                                                                     <em>I like to celebrate anything.</em></font></p> <p>Speaking of celebrating, I was in DC a few weeks ago for work and discovered cupcake heaven.  It was in the train station.  It was called <a href="http://www.crumbs.com/">Crumbs.</a>  I brought them home with every intention of sharing them with my fellow cupcake-loving friends, Emily and Karolina.  They didn’t even last 20 minutes once I got on the train. I ate half of one for “pre-dinner” and the other 1.5 after actual dinner.  Andrew helped. But not much.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7foIG1gYx3qh64s9dt4IDWBPxnWjHMeQe0E0xGqFPm8TPzr0vZQCL_2uubK3rqe4k_vDkNorUOtkEV8vc8g-OYUYheBeehCgUKE5YyjiAdcF4KfOlgCngD_wMOALU8FrIcL4U6g/s1600-h/cupcakefriends_n%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="cupcakefriends_n" border="0" alt="cupcakefriends_n" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_dxVFc4GgLnrmHNcm6B6oVEgADngH2M5ukBHdai4sO9aRASVdgtUCOFktKJ2D6RNFaaioTtqsy7CekrAgiVnHcmHy-xkgIuorFd_0F3wODsCHP88FjZY4d20r7dWm6poKpDRgw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a><font size="1"><em>                                             These are my friends who like cupcakes. And wine.</em></font></p> <p>When I die, I want to be buried in Crumbs’ cupcakes.  They were THAT good.  </p> <p>I wonder if they ship….<a href="http://www.crumbs.com/orderinfo/packaging">OH MY GOD, THEY DO!</a>  </p> <p>I’m done for.</p> <p> </p> <p>In other news, I registered for the Broad Street Run. Again.  Maybe this year I won’t fall off my front steps and sprain both my ankles 3 weeks before the race. </p> <p>Maybe.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAqoILKuNHGh5VdnoTFDdzp-_gqFP9fK2ZY1A-H2O7u22CrrrN9KpS0GZne9O1RzuD7Am9xemNNl51Evh4XL0XwuIeohrAPrjrwGwoe1bsS5qFGUBqkOE2ITgelFke5M-iZHuNQ/s1600-h/legs%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="legs" border="0" alt="legs" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP90-iyvX-qYD6ClubZ86v99eKWwqwaa3bxMZZh68rFu4POrTMLvpddlCcvISpBcgUjHH3LPSHofEEhxgbZX8qoayzlD9W8Ycum03fSpc4k6JcapYoXMyVAiigr5z5fyCFbA2JEg/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p>There are no safety guarantees in my life, as my friends know well.  Every minute I spend uninjured is just one minute closer I come to actually being injured.  My friend Kate once said, “We are always prepared with you, Oot.  Every time we hang out there’s always the chance we might go to the emergency room. In fact, we kind of expect it.”  And she would know, because (somehow) she is the one who has ended up with me in the ER the most.  Oh the stories she will tell my kids.</p> <p>I’m not embarrassed. Its who I am and we have all learned to cope  with it. Except Andrew. It still really annoys him.  He doesn’t think “accident prone” is attractive.  I can’t imagine why.  Who doesn’t want to bang a cute girl with nice legs in a short skirt (wearing an ankle brace and scabs on her knees)? </p> <p>So THIS year, I really want to run the race. Like, finish it and not die and then go drink beer immediately afterwards.  So I’m trying hard not to get hurt.  I definitely overtrained for this race last year which is why a little fall turned into a HUGE injury for me. I mean, I’m usually covered in bruises and I trip a lot, but I don’t ALWAYS end up in bed for 5 days.  That only happens maybe once every other year. </p> <p>So, this year I actually put together a real life training schedule, complete with color coding. Its pretty fancy.  Its also a muuuch slower workup in distance than<em>  </em>I attempted last year.  And it incorporates some speedwork, crosstraining and yoga.</p> <p>Oh yoga, how I’ve missed thee.   </p> <p>I took a late class at my gym on Tuesday.  I had looow (low, low, low) expectations, because I feel like gyms aren’t the best place for yoga: they’re loud and have flourescent lighting and its usually hard to focus and most times the rooms aren’t even private.  Yoga is always best practiced in a studio, in my opinion.  A lot of the experience of yoga is the setting in which its done, so it makes sense to do it in a space that its made for.</p> <p>But anyway.</p> <p>I went and it was a very full class, even at 8pm.  I am NEVER in the gym at 8pm so I had no idea how many people work out that late at night.  A LOT of people work out that late, in case you were wondering.</p> <p>So we were kind of crammed in in the spinning room, in front of all the bikes and there wasn’t enough yoga blocks for everyone but it worked out.  The teacher closed the door and lit a candle and put on a nice soft light instead of the flourescents.  It wasn’t the perfect setting but it was a good improvisation.  Basically, she was just an amazing instructor.  She made sure every position was correct and walked everyone through every pose.  There were 2 people in the class who had never even done yoga before, and they were able to follow her and actually enjoy the class. It was just the right mix of challenging, stretching and relaxing.  </p> <p>I am definitely going back.  I even modified my training schedule to include it.  I think it will be really helpful in preventing injuries, while also helping build strength without lifting heavy weights, which I don’t like to do while I’m running a lot because I hate running when I’m sore.</p> <p>I guess this post wasn’t really all about yoga. </p> <p> </p> <p></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgus0rb2icJLqVGRQmrMh4LfuxhW4P5nVwJZdJj5H25y_5zk8KsEGwQDPSzGG4ACYKvbX9cu8EDL5TJb4gnXTV30yVI2KAmGnAmqLRaxmAGzqZInRYbyM5KkFxppSnH6y-YiE8wKA/s1600-h/our-family%5B3%5D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="our-family" border="0" alt="our-family" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjpsxnfuQ5C0WBeq9NjW3nYkqdZU-O_fXDXVLoAz2JOQvwQgHDUJpnQs2IFhu9XCzOJw6rTILhX_9_rspKiPwS_KCmF2AnqnevzX7e0Oq1h1saIB_VG5ed1nFz2bflNYJJ5vapA/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="152" /></a></p> <p>                                        <font size="1"><em>This is my family. By Andrew.</em></font></p> <p> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV48Zg5d1LT7PXIqWHzyzZFok1DmRMuN15qvya2-HqBcWNYwrk608vssknuH13lRm4OHGV1rE-bjGd8YthI7KdbohZX_zZthqPTL1HaX-Q7uNbySrHkzhh2BOVK3rKcUuZRLaniA/s1600-h/Grace%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="Grace" border="0" alt="Grace" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwBCnIfAThek6pPGd53KUgpb7apbIUMp95SEhd-bwniZBhK6F6tnbDMas3F9_f5tdjsXTom21bqO8L0D28J_QNzsVgctHM5g18mW0VuoOgtSXbFwo_totA2sd0Lr0ms8pRLzXJA/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a>                                   <font size="1"><em>This is my niece. She is the coolest. EVER.</em></font></p> <p><em><font size="1"></font></em></p> <p><em><font size="1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBUr3fj5fzq56J-hxvn_-DGHl1OdvE7BPhIHMboKS4n49OXGVe0xaadsAPD3NRC-fflWooevQtyUj2p_eHp0sPNc4GPyVZThcOQ6Q89032pfte_PAQamXaptJW8zUlVMkkSJBMw/s1600-h/CIMG3430%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="CIMG3430" border="0" alt="CIMG3430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5yL8XvzVa3HhGC24hCeA2ysjODy864e2WJ_iV-Tt3NZfV2sDG1BDk-U5VnYe6nPmjZKwf-WO1Y0y9ih5ok34yOxig-govkSsXpSXeDc_826g3ZVnf1FS_Bsx894qISroj6b1wrw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a>                                                    We both wear our sunglasses at night.</font></em></p> <p><em><font size="1"></font></em></p> <p><em><font size="1"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TUrj_uybOPI/AAAAAAAAAjM/G5vT7EPOC6s/s1600-h/winterbeer%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="winterbeer" border="0" alt="winterbeer" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc68Yfqm01XI3_4jnyHbAOVfOhKVDClF2DE-cYSTxQlfgOWoTnCxO-soHMXQkTqSH6-5u-M_QE9IfO2p0zhm6Q_PqBWcxjU-mFgqFAUYdL14wcSkCcYzT2Jxt0Rw1AYoOCnF91wQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a>                                                                              This is Saturday.</font></em></p> <p><em><font size="1"></font></em></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TUrkAVAD-5I/AAAAAAAAAjY/q-XbT-H9oiQ/s1600-h/cookies%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="cookies" border="0" alt="cookies" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib3uXpwTM99j8deazFAdNddVKd-4jQ9nUawfFwx247dvPuAhn7WiTH7x2ip7kUDcPaQ4SG18wLS857ndYb0xI8buwBvF2HKZKJ2ibh2cKcGCqVZ_2EZcGkkbQ9DEUH6OsOjipLIg/?imgmax=800" width="183" height="244" /></a>                                <font size="1"><em>This is proof I have always been a dessert lover/fat girl.</em></font></p> <p><em><font size="1"></font></em></p> <p><em><font size="1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOfcZMBLrlTWGNkz_6RROADDiGcnUNc59u0Sf2ln2oC6KprAidFTCOsPB_o6-fOXkb2za2fwg37RKVvZOS95HuU2en2BYBS7sKWwp24FGcbvF_LGNNVWB7rOEOo9NfyyhDV0f_w/s1600-h/bed%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="bed" border="0" alt="bed" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL0vispWzi1hExKMxeOiol8nGkIAXdOk2WLfNuZpBSmO-Q4LL4DIAItMB0Zp1ECq_N3Xcu8NQI4KsOX2aVtNhs9CiyB4UEle4ohc652Yvk0ejF_ROGr4p6SEbnk6Yz6tFV7p1erA/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a>                                              This is what my dog did to my mattress topper.</font></em></p> <p><em><font size="1"></font></em></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifWVLJh5zxqdkmSmyO48yhxTrmz4s6p98aucI0JiTd0puzWCSiCO5uYS7ZCyrNml51eEdg4K4Fir4aLSJ2MRUGO0Etbl6988Iq8rWjkNp9vyluVLu5uyZkc7-C0bOgTV6gNzqH8g/s1600-h/award%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="award" border="0" alt="award" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf5wCfIz8jQfe7oGmrjqCfyXKIweOw10808ZQKLTLD6Y7bz6KFbMkEufcHFY3GjzsBVQqu6aE5CUiyqd5x24WZ9Y-_t0oqE3Gl7f0fPPm7tXnNfggshr880FBsQ2I8u6l5IeNlQw/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a><font size="1"><em>                                                   This is the award I won for work. Modified.</em></font></p> <p><em><font size="1"></font></em></p> <p><em><font size="1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTNM-vNodQ0WuDqWNMobM5MFkWCd_DoyTB3-61DEiqLV1103yPQAZytsAolBNCqIEiXKTbSoHZAgv7g4ZfhSyviP7RMF85c8fMWdE-uVBaDQbN94OIcGHPNWtHn-xM6K8HQ5wrOg/s1600-h/CIMG3497%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="CIMG3497" border="0" alt="CIMG3497" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOJ6o87_TD-2toXqMEXybTeTb9qk17RlW6CuiEB0PV4hf_PbXCGsj3fa365JJcMixWadUbZOtRrb1nIRGRm78SvvSFyWAHETHf92DS-tUe5PsprMKn-3VB14-Q8czsXaFD8QfaGQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a>                                                                      This is the love of my life.</font></em></p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-21790769719436204872011-01-07T17:56:00.001-05:002011-01-07T17:56:39.414-05:00Here We Go Now, Here We Go Now..<p>Ahhh, another new year! I love how they start out all shiny and well intended and then by March, everyone is back to their same old attitudes and habits and grumblings about the world. (If you don’t believe me, ask the people who own your gym.)</p> <p>There’s something so divinely human in it all.  The half-assed attempts to improve one’s life coupled with the reality that it takes work and commitment and then the inevitable settling for lazy mediocrity.  So gorgeously human. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it.  Mediocrity definitely has it’s pros.  Its just so predictable. And I guess it bums me out sometimes.</p> <p>Its why I don’t make resolutions. They just strike me as contrived.  I like to think that (with the assistance of my husband) my life is a constant work in progress, that we are always striving (most days) to do better, connect more, set goals, finish projects, feel deeply, think profoundly.  Part of that is the nature of marriage, and part of it is the combination of what is important to us as individuals. Except the days when we’re hungover, obviously.  For Christmas, my stepmom gave us a book called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Book-Awakening-Having-Being-Present/dp/1573241172">The Book of Awakening</a>.  Its 365 short passages and meditations on life and self and all that good stuff.   We’ve been making a point of reading a passage each night before bed.  Sometimes the passages lead to deeper conversation, sometimes not.  But it is a nice way to connect each day, in a way that is a tiny bit more meaningful than “how was your day?” and “what do you want for dinner?” </p> <p>This year, and all years forthcoming, I want to really focus on being present.  I get so distracted (because its basically impossible not to) with work, emails, the internet, errands, family, pets, commitments, that I don’t really ever take time to stop and smell the roses.  I’m always rushing.  And when I rush, I fall or get hurt, or run into things.  Its a really great metaphor, actually, for me.  The more I rush, the longer it ends up taking me to do things in the long run.  If I take the time to consider my moves, my strategy, my game plan…and perhaps if I didn’t <em><strong>procrastinate</strong></em> so much (who said that?), I might not NEED to rush.</p> <p>And I think its a good thing to be overall: present.  I’d hate to look back and realize all the things I didn’t take the time to stop and enojy.  </p> <p>We are all blessed.  All of us, in different ways.  Even those among us who struggle the most, who are homeless or poor or hungry, can still point to their blessings.  My hope is that as you (we) tackle this new year and all the challenges and excitement that will come with it, we remember to be present.  And to not just acknowledge our blessings, but to USE them in gratitude.</p> <p> </p> <p><em>Not what we say about our blessings, but how we use them, is the true measure of our thanksgiving. <br /><b>W. T. Purkiser</b></em></p> <p>We are very fortunate, indeed.</p> <p><font size="4">Happy 2011, friends!</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4CNHdaEVQc8c_tn6JZ2TKXm9rqQ_XqpWjGGfR9ZiomBlNu0ZZHV_NFtHZX9PObP7I-wlLwtSZJv1F0r4RFsQshVSkTaHc4uHiKK6NQDQjtWWFZYK5jkwKjIg3grAv14jOkU9YQ/s1600-h/CIMG3589%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3589" border="0" alt="CIMG3589" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-dNx4JU9VkkhjCF_dS3ll6GaNhhi4xODxaHfvAg_fYK4y0aMkGgP2lqMxVDHR6wsF1Ar_xyU08JQS1UOf_kVrA0tXvld6Hz7BNY7FAfsx8Vq09EOz2Y67PNZMe0113eC3nHh6g/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a></p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-52320507174574673542010-12-21T12:46:00.001-05:002010-12-21T12:48:13.486-05:00The traditional gift is paper. I gave him beer.<p>This past weekend Andrew and I celebrated our first anniversary.  If that seems confusing, it is.  We had our fancy wedding this past May with friends and family and all the <strike>drama </strike>hoopla, but it was just a do-over.  We actually eloped last December 18 (what can I say, we were lookin for a tax break) in a quiet little just-the-two-of-us ceremony at home in front of our Christmas tree.   It was intended to be a secret, but that didn’t work out. (Story for another time). </p> <p>Anyhow, Andrew’s brother was staying with us last week and there was something sort of depressing about spending our first anniversary sitting on the couch watching Aziz Asari’s stand-up routine for the third time that week. </p> <p>So I booked us a room at a B&B up in Lambertville, NJ.  Its right across the Delaware River from the equally adorable and quaint town of New Hope, PA.  My choice of Lambertville was not random.  It is also home to the River Horse Brewery, which is one of our favorites.  </p> <p>We walked around a bit to kill some time before the next tour.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUndB8MBQhOG2juHgtHLLrKuh9aM09ajdJXmrk_s8guBhLFXA5KGByH2zcOwQZcBV8n6c7mZe1GOAZKH3gdM4xOCwiOKXlQXpGvEAfVJrqTa3jfmgFD9y_PgSrnWcFDIbp0fDa-Q/s1600-h/CIMG3521%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3521" border="0" alt="CIMG3521" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdry1v6lg_sIDVPL2eT7v1xwqK73r1k-qTrL7JpCFpKiT-E6Hk0qL_Ec5xxm0Zy1liYlXPmRCcI9dJo5auiQkf2XrgUA_JtNKAWUn8aARKH3cnvnuEBlHzrDbLinVq51hF2cPwPw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK1NVh3fPrT1RNxA6ZGAf0DQdHCwtOw7HMEFnHv0ekQ9OyIOkBDbnpVchjKuaTLHxZ9T050qD-QK5vfLrQtXnPvJT5cGks-FBn6Zy8_DqjJp1hVSmRnP6gycnAb27oVTbv4bKvtQ/s1600-h/AnnDog%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="AnnDog" border="0" alt="AnnDog" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzyb-zG2dQWwp86fWrTjgvikY1mAUp0Hk2rAh-DAwCboKlahDrtuF4xzq1Q3QfBO_FDiLytDaZzRmS6KqDUtp787t6tC2czACXSB32LnBfUCqx3xM_1QEf9UkH4wx9ZtbRsnG94A/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TRDnzXYV5qI/AAAAAAAAAe8/0Y0th_Z7C3w/s1600-h/door-11%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="door-11" border="0" alt="door-11" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TRDnz1HFt7I/AAAAAAAAAfA/5k8q7J1ucc4/door-11_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p>We made our way ( a whopping 4 blocks) to River Horse for a tour/tasting.  What can I say? I’m an awesome wife.  I’m not really into the tours. The process of making beer is pretty much the same everywhere.  I do like drinking beer. So that’s what I did. And took a couple crappy photos, too.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8SCzqgFVh3QbEviAuuLEAeT9HUYEJrbtL6_N-jIZ47ZGl6sGLPY5KLmGtQPHuC9FT2a_1ocHoOOprZKk5rpywdq6zisfP28dDbx2Cy-wK23w4UBC9APnwL1C5sWaqQitZeWevg/s1600-h/RH1%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="RH1" border="0" alt="RH1" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TRDn0h3m9NI/AAAAAAAAAfI/77SgCMKKVs8/RH1_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBO6aQ8i_Uc1MHGtBrN0g5j2PZPEnd8CF4uNfRJnjO9d5bw7WWQzmbfPifZusYlEWaeHAzR9JxYHvrxL4HOt-a5hspzEzwV3DkHXi3yzjwhM154-RhOU-i4HJRe5p0j_BERhgN2Q/s1600-h/RH2%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="RH2" border="0" alt="RH2" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-iR2BPg-mk-HJPmmuAwVimz8s5MYKwOY4cOZnKx81IrxePzQxEV6Llr19JjBYGPN_Y87-xuhIP3W_z80RKLnLloUbt2KX6ityH15oxFcEH2sCaR0i02_MDm4ZPX9RW2dXoj6T5A/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrRkoARRvIrW5XP0oi23Dt49VHARMpW2VQ5bLMhC2kcQcdxGnZFP7H9zvRe1VSGhDG8VYeLYTAs2fhTQAEOBC6oW_i5b2aENg5lh2-vAUVJnBbl5cPwzY4-Sz54b2FE4C0oz1yJA/s1600-h/RH5%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; margin-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="RH5" border="0" alt="RH5" align="right" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7ff1-K1nAwRQc4Ll0bbwzd-IyhvDLXLgAstasQm93RZld5EjZOwhsBVVahyphenhyphencf5LTa6s9uMPCrvvBU8oX-P3xadeOpKGibv4YMJ5VqMnu135NZd8_vxQ_htxXD9deTLlSGLGIUg/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7CMoKPsqDZK5q2ZchUTsKD-cMZjfc_TAo5fJs-32f8RmMnSiDJQJ_BFtTpb35C4hyphenhyphenz7EBFl7LX5-xH4XK1yXIMSfCFKhaiEJ9xbPRvRSX3yTt6zUoGcyf7bae7ibks57lM3PZQ/s1600-h/RH4%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="RH4" border="0" alt="RH4" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7_Ot30yVeGRrne4Y68pZQ_UspxFGVm0mcx7WCju6LtgHuNGLbl1Ai8yxDAn83n56dRC387vqUAhIONRMtM6DWaDtj08AiqbNLaiVAgj4C_qFdamjXLFI5bEsVwLYzswSKKcTdQ/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TRDn3EyGfYI/AAAAAAAAAfk/4Z2ORWT4zLM/s1600-h/RH3%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="RH3" border="0" alt="RH3" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPz8Ok50vDO2C4O4HnfOUx6iyIDdqE7Cmiw3UtabBnKstmi9mFKHzUK5v6nRD9Va1xh3s1LplVn48gzFFhyiPiIJBnz4PTkFXj68_5i6pKSlyTp52ZJ_QJnV3M3CIFoVmhbWF-Ig/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p> <p></p> <p>It was $1 for a tasting at the brewery.  We stayed awhile. </p> <p> </p> <p>At some point, we stumbled into a wine store who also did tastings. </p> <p>We stayed there a bit, too.</p> <p>Then we walked to New Hope, where we found another brewery. This is Andrew’s reaction:</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLoe0RiAt8YYi1es4JEJsLISwvbBur0D-emCYI9-8KdGJ8jRl8wJK_o_jrKDNM55oQxC9SWDEVsdnsr6_GKp14MUfyw3_vucH_RWEzY0hKoELfzuP7jRaaUPT1g0UjgQqiwVk2hA/s1600-h/bridge%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="bridge" border="0" alt="bridge" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-JL4sBqudLxENa424U6sZiyUbWpRooh2xd5U2bDqZAaDcLdg8So7RHdyD4ReDCRaZfg3EFNz9TsvNoJ9il8WMiOJThleX0MTg_7xRYWWdXyS2NH3CUnUx0QkDifIfq2v4B3Afaw/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p>After this, we decided some food in our stomachs was a good idea and made our way to a BYOB, and proceeded to carb load.</p> <p>We eventually stumbled back to the B&B and fell into bed. </p> <p>On the way home the next day we found a HUGE flea market.  I thought it would be like thrifting, which I have limited patience for.  But it wasn’t! they had so much cool stuff! I think flea markets are my new “thing.”</p> <p>Overall, it was about as perfect a time as we could have had.  I didn’t cry and we didn’t argue once.  That’s probably a new record.</p> <p>I kid. (Not really)</p> <p>On a sincere note, I am so lucky to be married to my best friend. He makes me laugh till I cough, or pee, or cry, he knows how to fix pretty much anything, he has amazing dancing skills, he brews great beer, he gets up in the middle of the night to take the dog out, he is a really great defensive driver, and he always tells me when I have stuff stuck to my face.</p> <p>I love you, Andrewwww!!!</p> <p>Here’s to many more adventures!</p> <p>This is the only picture taken of us on the night we were married, post 6 glasses of champagne. Sorry we ruined your party, Marina!</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheAg5Z6Txg-ePnr7USy-2uZy6OR785wfnUNMVtPLTE4Z85xF5VLmhB1RJ_DFlOJfM6rcC_QJtM-UM6PUpBtjTeWeXo_yvGRgeRCrdGg7rTTUdHdWX-Bs2FxnNGl44rgo648IfwEA/s1600-h/weddingnight.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="weddingnight" border="0" alt="weddingnight" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUsOn81bzTP12pXppRQC9LXKtph68ODJM6VHbL2ymkgkw2UzHRDsWuNE0RceGo26XHfpUIVXUXBB7MG4pLUip0GLi2Y_Gy-6WHxQudmmhTPiCnbJi6hsNqOkxJHB2HXPdhPzE2w/?imgmax=800" width="220" height="244" /></a></p></p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-19183274058524301052010-11-18T16:07:00.001-05:002010-11-18T16:08:42.833-05:00Mark My Words<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnTeUFQTIcVVlNkd5f4ZUUWHY0-3x92jg4PouLbBDZwETDGUyURekw2UJ01KiB34ogeygJbG9iqRiuuajfdNk7lZix103rGKaQRaFDmP7iuSMZUPp_MomaJ2fj0527Gt8lSooNQ/s1600-h/philadelphia_eagles1%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="philadelphia_eagles1" border="0" alt="philadelphia_eagles1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2MGjZDYVTI6f4mhgpEmIFTwtw2Da29k9jrCBechefEx3ObuXlcVPXFtlT6Xz2azmsFDiW2072D0hF33CimrKfeW-BRORALU2_L-tIxfStnCCW5DkQYFFSToyRz-kFqq19-x5BEQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p>In the wake of last Sunday’s Eagles game, I would just like to link to this previous post that I wrote last year.</p> <p>For the record:  <a href="http://ootoberfest.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-cant-help-it.html">this</a> is still how I feel.  Oh, and I was right about Vick having something to prove and kicking ass.  </p> <p>I know there’s no loyalty in football but I’m hoping he signs another contract with the Birds, since some of us believed in him all along and I genuinely believe we deserve to win a damn Superbowl.</p> <p>And no, it still doesn’t excuse his behavior.  But I, for one, am happy to see the conversations being had about him are finally about his current playing and not his past.</p> <p>Just sayin.</p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-41453278735763928372010-11-12T12:34:00.001-05:002010-11-12T12:34:41.008-05:00The Difference A Few Weeks Makes<p>Last time I actually wrote a post, I said I was giving up health blogs. </p> <p>So I did.</p> <p>But one cannot simply replace hours of blog reading with nothing. So I had to find new blogs to read.  And that, my friends, has led me to the world of fashion blogging!  </p> <p>What an excellent replacement for me!  Why?  Because it has inspired me to try to remix and reuse some old clothes that have been sulking in the back of my closet for ages.  And because it has sparked a new creativity with regards to my appearance.  And because its fun.</p> <p>And because it has nothing to do with food. Or working out.  Which is awesome.</p> <p>And with clothes (i.e. dressing yourself) you just have to work with what you have (in your closet and on your body).  Unless you have a Macy’s card, in which case, you can add deliciously cute wedge pumps like <a href="http://www1.macys.com/catalog/product/index.ognc?ID=496923&CategoryID=26481&LinkType=">these</a> to your closet and therein find 30 old things that suddenly look amazing with just ONE new thing! Brilliant! (Also they were on sale in store, I did  not pay that much for them.)  Since we all don’t walk around naked anymore (someday, I hope this makes a comeback) you have to put <em>something</em> on your body, whether you love your body or wish it was juuust a little bit different.  So why not make it something wonderful?</p> <p>Here’s the other thing that makes fashion so healthy (are you listening, Andrew?) : a great outfit feels great on. And when you feel great, you look great! Confidence! Strutting! Actually enjoying my body!  </p> <p>Ok, I still cried the other day because my jeans were tight and I had to do squats and lunges and then they still gave me a big ‘ol muffin top. But then I got some new stretchy pants (for 20 bucks!) and as soon as I put them on, I thought I might never wear jeans again.</p> <p>Sometimes I question whether I should still be in therapy, working on my body image, and confidence, and how I’m crazy, and things like that.  But recently, I’m feeling like fashion is so much more constructive for me than therapy.  Here’s why":</p> <p>* its cheaper (unless your co pays are less than $40 a visit, then maybe not always. I could buy two whole other pair of awesome black pants for that, feel doubly as awesome, and not cry)</p> <p>* old clothes can always be consigned and re purchased by someone else or donated, therefore the happiness of owning something awesome spreads to others (therapy is usually a solo act)</p> <p>* No one ever compliments you on how great you look in therapy</p> <p>* therapy never goes on sale</p> <p> </p> <p>What’s your favorite therapy?</p> <p> </p> <p><strong>Disclaimer:</strong> I am still in my (very UNfashionable) pjs. What? I work from home and its Friday. No one’s perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll get dressed before 5.</p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-68212794322402013932010-11-08T10:10:00.001-05:002010-11-08T10:10:37.558-05:00Getting Bigger….<p>Gratuitous Ginny photo post!!</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6499iQmIzK5mSUI0thoYrRt0T2pMOk6IaYVPa3_byyjBjrYMPtiVzk8LKCXexH7sI7cQFCNHMaSwpvVsb30sSd_TgwlRYFSNvnVF8qnQZ9sqNiAzybObzPRB2le58pQeuqSktFA/s1600-h/gin1%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="gin1" border="0" alt="gin1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwBkyTPx0yK0A2dMer_SJcj2fqH6Qmug3ZecEp7A0s0uIImqgbGKFqXpg1UIV5tSeuWVb8slcdjxtvlB8jfWPZ3qC7xbUf84yQGkUqhMSKmIAhuxGHxDZmGQNiFZoJiR37Z0kVWw/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXqlvGOB20173vaRIiBCbJDojksljTVBz5NiHIjYLm3WQM077rXFRQYR7KNsQz_nVCIu5bFRog6PppwaSRZ61o8cIb35JlqZ-J_5Ys5OTPY10LMhh6t56gQNujuWiR_9D2r6Vxiw/s1600-h/ginny1%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="ginny1" border="0" alt="ginny1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIl8Twk75E4srM6AXMSyacKm1Xc4juO0T9adIzmIVpFi7rgI7AEf9Q2FTWy9DsnPhmJozb0EFvgzU2UqMXqc_VSI1d7T4ZDOhnm4PNnCQMKlbz20p091wLK-4LOsGnh6X1ZETL3A/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkKOCtNrfZ37afuQYOiB9ic_3CYrQJXszVhxEypcDonGbk4-lHiWaO9KFxkzJWf85M8GBNx2RmqCO_O3KqLkYl-_FLHKUj9CIyohFLBNNxOIwH1ezp_wDorNyCfR3lxoEbMVu9mQ/s1600-h/ginny2%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; margin-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="ginny2" border="0" alt="ginny2" align="right" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZPilVBEEI06h81Yw6LWHtXSHQ_VpCV3BMSJJsvCJ_fAwRjN4yzuwmG059inWjB1wPGmZNO9G02BAqP2u4emPioV_0OKGbv_t1EOMxWxpjbFAy4kKiB6TVou-2fKeE4VJBcoNkw/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKSPMTAIzpa8LuaGknCmqo2LJBJ_7y1ZwLfAuMcjJwe1o73IZLHyNNpkEaJk-gp1LRB2io1_41Uf012EVxw1NU1ABv8N8GgTmCwgnDyA4WTpstAUTmB0ogVuqAKjvZJmR2R06Jw/s1600-h/ginnyjez%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="ginnyjez" border="0" alt="ginnyjez" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiudp5htknerUAZLRLDw2ydCXaC0nawsmoFnmhFFIfha-PUBAgGWWF6P7VxZLQlUFuAhNZ9kroXwWxUdrJiz8z_PC_4whkPBOSmY1AJhTj9xj-IgDVWxgL06AuutAP3Cn2n88AXQ/?imgmax=800" width="144" height="244" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfXYriNA-N0W86LblMEiaFi03PDWkuRUUGJXMWIT_nxmyEMDpMulx4644FhlF6BtVVw4AJgXOclzJz7qCVUFS6NpzcgMd5XWX4iPkUuH7WAmcmic7dhU9II4Jj0e92a7bpkQAQA/s1600-h/bed%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="bed" border="0" alt="bed" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHD52I7weS_uq-nV-uvEviXXE3K2eGCb6TNeHw_zbkkiWmI8uOAJiHaxVbUyogGbargu9E-nuzjpE4weih72Ic3nLZzpLE4d3ESqvTgpjT3QdbsML-WvC03oEkaA8vWE0npGfMg/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a></p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-69229203086511339502010-10-07T11:27:00.001-04:002010-10-07T15:56:25.922-04:00The Health Blogosphere Blew Up…and I Kind of Just Don’t Care Anymore<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIPRMw2XYhy9MnPoJtJsae7bAo7McfNUYxa4Yj0j4XtoVqO7In6FdpRPrsDaL_5DDmNiO1YfZTc74bECHBPUQw9LEzk5EKXIZfz_Aqz7P21W1hAUc6_m6SYbkwl2_NFqA5g_xSuA/s1600-h/blogging%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="blogging" border="0" alt="blogging" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5PhkzILXxGJQUvj3ahNrXrtH7hKGZajf3uZeZU4ePeqY-dgdakXrl89dv3v6u-GAdbhyphenhyphenCtOpcRWJayuHDkvTm0wXtYAZkd5Jo0ESQDkZwiIdBdU2DH-WHlh3S7s360OJTugF-HQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="200" /></a> </p> <p>So earlier this week, the health blogosphere, which I do spend a great deal of time in, sort of imploded.  The controversy started over an <a href="http://www.marieclaire.com/health-fitness/news/articles/health-blogger-controversy">article</a> that appeared in Marie Claire and addressed the issue of health blogs and disordered eating.  This is a topic that I have always been a bit interested in and so to see it finally addressed was, on one hand, a bit of a relief.  On the other hand, the article was really poorly written and spent more time attacking the 6 bloggers mentioned than it did actually addressing the issue at hand.  Maybe you’re not all aware, but the health blog world people are <strike>bat shit crazy</strike> a little wacky.  Readers and bloggers alike are very loyal to each other in a codependent, cliquey kind of way.  (Maybe it’s because most of them ARE bloggers themselves?)</p> <p>Anyhow, the 6 bloggers featured all issued rebuttals of the article on their own blogs (all except one) and then encouraged their readers to send letters to the editor and blow up Marie Claire's <a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=70075&fbid=108102135921354&id=100001647038820&ref=nf#!/MarieClaire?ref=ts">facebook page.</a></p> <p>What has occurred since is an insane backlash against Marie Claire and its editors from the healthy blog community.  I am totally irked by this response as it has almost completely overshadowed what could be a really productive dialogue about healthy living blogs and the role they play in the realm of disordered eating.  Anyhow, I’ve scoured the interwebs for the best commentary on the article and I found it <a href="http://www.hollabackhealth.com/2010/10/please-blog-responsibly-%E2%80%9Cthe-hunger-diaries%E2%80%9D/">HERE</a>.</p> <p>Rachel pretty much sums up exactly how I feel about the issue and provides a fair and honest assessment of the article and the issues at hand.  Additionally, there is some excellent dialogue happening in the comments section of the same post.  I strongly encourage you to read and participate in the conversation, especially if you are not particularly into healthy living blogs. (A range of outsider perspectives is seriously missing from this debate.)</p> <p>So as this all was happening yesterday, I got to thinking about these blogs and how I myself read 4 them regularly.  I was trying to figure out WHY I read them, and more specifically,what keeps me coming back day after day.  And the long and short of it is that reading these blogs allows me to keep my eating disorder alive, without actually engaging in eating disordered practices.  (Note I say “practices” and not behaviors, because I think reading these blogs obsessively is a behavior.)  I don’t think I really noticed it until all of these discussions surfaced yesterday, but I am fairly certain now that these blogs are not doing me, personally, any favors.  I have gotten some great things from them, but the majority of these things are in the realm of cooking and recipes and creative ways to incorporate vegetables into meals.  But even then, as I prepare meals, I can’t help but compare them to the meals on the blogs I’ve seen.  Same with my exercise.</p> <p>I suppose that after awhile, the reader feels that they know the blogger, and develops some sort of attachment to their life.  But that’s not me.  In fact, there is one health blog I read for the sole purpose of making fun of the blogger (since I’m being all honest here) because I find her lifestyle, meals, and worldview so far from reality that it is genuinely entertaining.   I mean, seriously. How relatable is someone who has no actual job, gets free stuff in the mail daily, makes a living cooking and working out and writing about it, and virtually never has issues with money?  Reading that shit just pisses me off.  It doesn’t make me want to do anything that she does, including watch endless episodes of Gossip Girl in the middle of the day.  But I digress…</p> <p>As you may recall, I sprained both ankles back in April and had to abandon the race I was training all winter for.  Then, I blogged about how the injury had forced me to slow down, be mindful, and take it easy.  I took 12 weeks off running, which is probably the longest break I’ve taken in the past 10 years.  I truly believe that the break resulted in me being more relaxed, happy, calm and stress-free than I had been in years. If not ever.</p> <p>So I’ve just been trying since then to chill out about working out.  I read an <a href="http://www.wired.com/magazine/2010/07/ff_stress_cure/">article</a> in Wired (great bathroom reading, btw) recently about stress and all the lesser known factors that contribute to it, based on a study this guy did on baboons.  Anyhow, turns out one of those factors is “forcing yourself to go to the gym.”  I’ll take any excuse to not HAVE to work out, but basically what it says is that if you don’t WANT to go to the gym and you force yourself to suffer through an unbearable workout (how many times a week do we do this? seriously.) then we may not be doing our bodies any favors.  I am not a scientist or anything, but I know that when I am less stressed out, I just FEEL better.  I have more energy, I sleep better, I argue with my husband less, and I have been known to lose a couple pounds.  For me, the more I fight and train and obsess about losing pounds, the more my body wants to hang onto them. I don’t know if there’s any science behind it, but it is my empirical observation of myself.</p> <p> </p> <p>The one thing that goes hand in hand with disordered eating (one the MC article barely touches on) is the idea of comparison.  And this is what I see is the problem with health blogs for me, and with the idea of health blogs in general: the constant comparisons of readers and bloggers alike to each other.  What they ate for breakfast, how fast they ran 4 miles, how many glasses of wine they (shouldn’t have) had to drink.  Its INSANE!! If you read through those blogs you will find a disturbingly common thread.  They all have an obsession with pumpkin, and oatmeal and chia seeds and nutritional yeast (wtf even IS that shit?).  They all eat the same thing.  They all do the same workouts.  Its an entire subculture of the blind leading the blind.  </p> <p>I like to think I’m smarter than that.  I’ve been sucked in, admittedly, but I am stepping away now. I’ve spent WAY too much money on therapy to not know better at this point. Its not good for me, my health, my body image, or my marriage.  I don’t need to run a 5k in 22 minutes to count for something.  Just the fact that I like to run (only a couple times a week) and that I do my best <strike>should be</strike> is enough for me.  </p> <p>I do not like chia seeds. Pumpkin is really only good in pies, beer and cookies. I will throw down a bottle of wine by myself occasionally.  Because I LIKE to.  My favorite foods will ALWAYS pizza and nachos.  My husband thinks I’m beautiful (although not so much in the mornings).  My family (and in-laws) are hilarious and wonderful. I will never run a marathon. I have the BEST friends in the entire universe.  And a few extra pounds.</p> <p>Whatever.</p> <p> </p> <p>Please feel free to weigh in here on those articles. I’m all about the freedom of expression. And honesty. And food. Obviously.</p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-37039435373532383002010-10-04T12:18:00.001-04:002010-10-04T12:18:59.496-04:00Has Anyone Seen My Summer?<p>Whoah.  That went fast.  Sorry that I didn’t blog all summer.  I was sweating my ass off and the thought of exerting myself anymore than I had to just made me need more deodorant.  Seriously. Hottest. Summer. Ever.  Peco (our energy company) is so thoughtful that they provide us with annual comparables on our bills and last year in July, the annual temp was 71 degrees. This year? 89.  I am not so naieve as to suggest that this is hard evidence of global warming, but I am pretty sure a few extra feet of ice melted in the poles this summer. Just sayin.</p> <p> </p> <p>So anyhow, we have had a very eventful summer! (Although, as I look back through the pictures, it seems lame.)</p> <p> After we got back from Greece, we had two receptions for extended families: one in Jersey and one in upstate NY (mucho driving).  </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhnMTkXTtzXtBnLvA8ugh9ki0oDrPprmEbDO1ZPW8m7CmrOjQVrhLDcK8493kn-3UD2rxlswehtpm1HYTjK_RpRaGASFv2NDi76aosAIzIBKabQVnGs1s60FLz4UdEZyY52DpLw/s1600-h/CIMG3318%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3318" border="0" alt="CIMG3318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFB6nnkhECSc0tOJNMk-qlE1Zu-xlYNlQQ-4MjSquF8vcjNPyW5Sx_Jmm_6i1J15OrnqOokV7BLTg9PUfpq2vUC8LhtaMGHg6tW1NC6LZZJVue-8uzaYuxVfXLFqzhxrVH47yLtQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p>We had a festive 4th of July.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TKn-WqkYqqI/AAAAAAAAAb8/C8ixxVHiZxw/s1600-h/4th%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="4th" border="0" alt="4th" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjImdHmEjSS0mHizXt_uBjV-P1YCyzfHqlMXreRxoarTHKYHEzKXP128lFnNVdsKehsDPGpLLxy74Vk-fykD0DyBucIHDT5j6HJiMmW-EkYalWbeE6pMfOGZF7EHasU5G1UpHJIKg/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p>We went to a wedding.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1d46IHBM_QJPdYeyxHqmhoZ-vcmWRBJaigtfWrZw15vU0DBk9No-x98iTKCAkk87GB2F_aa2tBVTWkalWOjOp4OwNv_llRzGNNVviU_MAZDTwdXnodwWpCjxUYayKOUiWn4Fnmw/s1600-h/CIMG3339%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3339" border="0" alt="CIMG3339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTKz777uC3arXDzt8bDlZaUy_xYD4ft6fLfgI80_fz0JMZOK-cWFb89vBBC3gKLP4SDAy5uMHu8ItNwzt-1LK6h-a0uS05ZN-3h7oDNoLLiMC_VDL0zui1P54lEhe9DOdo-5byOg/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p>We met some cool rats.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKhQ3Eg78uXvLYjQcrASO_c0w46W5m4iCBjhx-P32BW9lfVeTf1LA6wN1LV11YNb_CFDPMjW6ybLRF1zpSTcMqi5V2j3Ill4DhyphenhyphenUw4c5v9VUqSqUUBVGM8aWgIinh4VOtFtZN0zw/s1600-h/rats%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="rats" border="0" alt="rats" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokNWKaHSLb2YWn-AziCuunw6xrJgHMFHJ_99H-xDuNCMzNlT2s-Hv47kVCH1HSJrPTRWsEgX_02elGWX-xFzg1ilWdgnvytoy7VtLZw9rX9g6bn3JmxqmppLz72Lng9MhCHtVMA/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="182" /></a> </p> <p>I baked a lot of pies and cookies.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieR-g1EcME-34IanLf0a1sDRXQtdy-q7kceO3EdkVGD-m3IMmGfJv5H8G0TY5vUH2TdnGKBWFxzwGYQwfQLhxQ65Gu9IDuyn4WerXTV9SLT3hUK9DVwFkujplTsSH8Rd-FkHtp0A/s1600-h/cookies%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="cookies" border="0" alt="cookies" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-_a-TAlmOgnsRILFbaJKNm99oDLreBDNiweYbjErvPkSL1JoXZCt6OuDpmveAUTfavfpPXzbzFaRFVCvjzdkMKdgte5XIbzS-wMtXz69mOHbm7aAcimZhyphenhyphen3PIFWnzalxB81sUQ/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Dr2W-zgPR4oTpVLXywnJKh27MmkM1tWqt4XPgmpQDIEhHiCVCQHQu9hKASKRcGTaPfWb-5KW98gjtVp5cqOM7aeFFNKsSMLoSPJzIrG3ID7eGitXY-brr1qYeEYYYjPri2d1Nw/s1600-h/pie%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="pie" border="0" alt="pie" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TKn-at9dN-I/AAAAAAAAAcg/SDvIGCHdfqc/pie_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p>Aaaand, we adopted a puppy!!!</p> <p>Meet Ginny!</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq29eSoHaq6vtgsjFrPKtQ6h6D6pdXRoTki5fqmtSydRbpQkwuYtIaMJ-3apw-tfLBJ8kK8g2vmz4R7h9uxqqlSEDCkhyphenhyphenh2mRtjSBzeDVs0N_wZ01JxB_TFOqa89YyhUwaTf2lBQ/s1600-h/_MG_0476%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="_MG_0476" border="0" alt="_MG_0476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgp07QVcqhCD3LGpyQXzdpoWWdmlE81d4bmBveB_eobslk0cGQ3LV88wFN92m8zF8v9N9sgrWgLAXVxrEtMNnswj3ewVK7cwW6x7NzjXjk_VrVrAzRn5jnYPSvFAyB0a1OEymI1g/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="164" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh8n67BUV8FSf62I5C6vNhXalTWOJ5cBTRd5UdBfNvHVOMP__Oj5CIWoXZWXZ4eQp2jea4SyTyqzZAofl9GjVXc25Y_LyDfhYLYEQhvIQRIpJjsO34xa5EwEhkxjGJCbMYTiQ9PA/s1600-h/charlie&gin%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="charlie&gin" border="0" alt="charlie&gin" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEili-Djjg-GbHuDzQ2JB3ai1qbLoof5Tj0A4jTTeNH7c7g8nc8CePK0gBdhYlLE-JJq2W2JFd37ABaK0zvCbJN0YdNmU8EZh7ktrxSJTMgYzD1sFGIj81CooOST8cl5DKKsrcC_-w/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKG13d5fXMZlAiqg1DJNqFi4LJ6fIsQBKLAmxWOjKcFL-uCt3tLNY3gQ_Kq8qJHC0LencOmPaOed2bUmewiDbLDWs6q8jFyu6r-ckFNe-FfoZQ9vBLeOuLEIaTpJ_HP9PVlPDqxg/s1600-h/_MG_0492%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="_MG_0492" border="0" alt="_MG_0492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-YOvEaElOIV8y8quTxY4qCaYvS0paaPO36B8RF67bSPJ2RkGhqkR6aD1vt-OY5fQZafJ2cfehBRqA4FcSPLeXG4cD1sjBlJJjDivl3Mqk796SuBFi_0y0xfr5hZWwxPSNtAcQLA/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="164" /></a> </p> <p>I am completely in love with her!  Charlie and Mr. Puss are not.  Expect to see a lot more of her, though! She is so photogenic and hilarious!</p> <p>It was a crazy summer. But I’m ready for fall! I’m all set for apples (an excuse to make more pies, perhaps?) and pumpkins, sweaters and cute boots!  Hands down, my most favorite season! </p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-31825375465160630272010-07-12T16:38:00.001-04:002010-07-12T16:38:45.894-04:00Kalimera, Peeps!<p>That means “Good Morning” in Greek.  But this is going to be a marathon post so I have no idea what time of day it will eventually get published. </p> <p>Oh man, Greece was superfunawesome! We visited Crete, Santorini, Mykonos and Athens.  In that order.  I sort of wish we had gone in reverse order, because we liked some places better than others and, no offense to Athens, I would have preferred to spend the last night of my honeymoon chillin on a beach with a drink, instead of trucking down busy city streets just like the ones we have here in Philly.</p> <p>Anywhoooo, I have 2 million pictures so I will just give you some highlights. In the interest of full disclosure, I will also tell you that I gained 5 pounds on my honeymoon. I ate like a king and drank like a sorority chick. All while sporting a bikini. And it was glorious!</p> <p>First up, the food (highlights):</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiro6P5XL5KS5qFGeEe9KEEjMItzbhnVSYBIWiIZxqqfUSJ5dr987ZOzpVNp-RjGlNXuq2Wkdra51vU0v-tv4nghPbpMnxBXV2D2Dvkk8KVtnU_8PS8PUuGfFavsH2htrSHmMdoLw/s1600-h/P6150087%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="P6150087" border="0" alt="P6150087" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt8sBDmn8I/AAAAAAAAAV4/HzcKs2eeat4/P6150087_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> <em><font size="1">Two HUGE boots of Mythos, gyro with steak fries and tsatziki (they do them kind of deconstructed instead of all wrapped up), garlic dip (has a potatoe base), greek salad (no lettuce! and a whole brick of feta!)</font></em></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPybQFGBPd3Pk-GWhznTO02qKfUsoXLIXCM6bMoxd_K6dH_mMfqrIvgOsh1MbtsP2D75wSpn_BB6NTm1Gy_QuqeTdFIgN1qAddE6rFI6fo7yBPzB_1Dr6tDzk-gKyWRkXqK8gQA/s1600-h/P6150091%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6150091" border="0" alt="P6150091" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAoDfnGfZZnq4ZIPfNr6wLZE_A_yQe2zK2COm-wAdexiI5VRqOA4qmKx-tVGFCl2mSaH7RWFGS9_g3lI_v_w8PUXdF93mujMcaW0ZrjoV2OluXI2Ef1nCao2lfUKKj0Lrz7PQyw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><em>Grilled mushrooms and (the best) moussaka</em></font></p> <p align="center"><em><font size="1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGy8w4HoXTzcJdXjARPLXuNGroqIdUDKci1uqZfnti8B7iyw_FOM8MZuQjgEG6blUU9AaP7UTRIvlaSrirli3M5k1aD0BZ6nEnE0fX6fwMJpyQV3NCqOi1Uou67RijEY57y2Un0A/s1600-h/P6180187%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6180187" border="0" alt="P6180187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJe0SgEJd4WL7SixqcHXIWT8WaLsqJ4E0ghlvX4M8wxS7ZKoqOBGou_pCSUswx4347GLM71PCV7dDGfnGCcB5gBmvwWqLpX-X9gEhkbB1w39FGlVr2d3ytNX47OPbd2CN2XM_oFA/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </font></em></p> <p align="center"><em><font size="1">Lunch on the balcony in Santorini. Greek salad, roast beef on whole wheat baguette with mango chutney. And steak fries! They put oregano on their salads and fries and it is DELISH!</font></em></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt8uZ1eMuI/AAAAAAAAAWM/0WsvBWzLkmo/s1600-h/P6180199%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6180199" border="0" alt="P6180199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecKEbbxS8b5sz81U4OFgwHOnEDSVjgogCvWAFtJivP7QVpFF0ryMU3CeUlyfEOFdMDnDqnBS0wTj9ep06FAfPUUJChyQJvV5a3He2gf7yTRN4ujUS-FOjvB-ScYx3R7_3Vlwcsw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><em>Fried cheese wrapped in phyllo dough, with pistachios and honey. You can’t go wrong with fried cheese. Ever.</em></font></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6xMIZkC70Kpdoa17f3W800mOibZTYRYqgAeOdRn843CoIm7i9l7EbXHDlD1Qb1Bt227mdltlI4EsbRF0R_77YS9ZyUj8Z-JRJ77UJ6fxLTJGktnRjZQc4ZgH7pqzH-mBuy9i7g/s1600-h/P6180204%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6180204" border="0" alt="P6180204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_FgXjtNYph6nrQmTK9nNRNADg5JsQdFXvm7ScIIlPr14RYH4_KE_jber4l6XW-lAO3WHgDVbrNizrZQHsDeOoJuhfOH-frudha0imE_68Yo56P4Wm0zoFF5_yJOZ9mcr5DPnvw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><em>Andrew’s fresh fish before.  The waiter wanted to de-bone it for him but he insisted her do it himself.</em></font></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaT7wbcP8q7LcxLutR8_8HM805pm2mIp-6SLe80HRpw8-DpeLu7Lriyn8N3bLVg4xhsbfZwG2-l8Tp0jPkCtV_sG2tcchDH_zvM08ICHHGgUwiat9CB9L_A2pY_cFtAheFgEfmWw/s1600-h/P6180205%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6180205" border="0" alt="P6180205" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt8wmGrFNI/AAAAAAAAAWg/R_qKV8lTSJg/P6180205_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><em>Andrew’s fish after. The waiter was seriously impressed.</em></font></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt8xMRw6XI/AAAAAAAAAWk/UXGuP6AnfRI/s1600-h/P6200311%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6200311" border="0" alt="P6200311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi85h4e-ma3UGSyNmaMyD9_giGsx7me_temOewxwZZfpBbt_caV8LFNTZh7EDyfCfC-sc7GWvKyGLuIf2Q1HpiN6sCrrDsxCdGxOWmS0mzI3gtV-9vjOinLemeWoeOjTtQb0rJbbQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><em>My risotto with shrimp at Ambrosia</em></font></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhykFUgfFGRnfJCyjXC5NjICYOl9AXX9l7nUOGwR1anoB3ZB7S3J_7XDxw5tO4mscCPA3uHcQAEfEcJdhdOQae1YklZW2J51JoS07jpOV-Sp-M0xmzq7KP71vgy3YV7z-zwLUEgsA/s1600-h/P6200312%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6200312" border="0" alt="P6200312" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt8ylivbRI/AAAAAAAAAWw/HAMZC72hgew/P6200312_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><em>Andrew’s pork chops</em></font></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVUan110u7mHQG5GgT3MiSHoaBwN1iebM0XVuGDQbwqi1NrBDqLQ8eJxioD8i_NaMfRa_Mz34IUQQfpaXDjNpfhjRFxo-SISY6syfxnfl-q__4X6xdi3CKfbjcIZPvoozepTM2w/s1600-h/P6200310%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6200310" border="0" alt="P6200310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSyKyZbwJ8qNQ86Xz7vGDx6lLuSojvTBEw9vIzRwx1NG_8twjvZHWUN9cvVtOfmAm-hiy8Ab2CayvMBWI0NAx0j4i0fD7sMsUtJCYb7MPZKSHRKuj0TSOmrfjr0B-ekJxf1HiLmQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><em>This is a bad picture but the waitress described the special as “pasta with lobster.” 58 euro later…. </em></font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRx4SSf7U0g4J-7hyphenhypheneOlRFub7DJthkpRHuFfLRCkw8D5Jpy4_v-0f6J-E9K43THSD_VpZE_w_-A_sYejL8rNetLMuOLnHjbSxYwUpn5vsAp75ND88kGf0WkXciPRxJfD2TactpUw/s1600-h/P6220351%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="P6220351" border="0" alt="P6220351" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicutT_Z2Bc8xnVQeMg1mhgHno7UrEuHK4geC_Cdy93XwiEmflnw2v6vqL6zYs2RYT7a5nsOzSG3lp-ZIdtNxt5aouLP9N4B1c5zMyW_puWzPmzQIZY_gA8-NvNzWqIkXS2W7QCSQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><font size="1"><em>Clams on the beach in Mykonos.</em></font></p> <p align="center"><em><font size="1"></font></em></p> <p align="left"><font size="2">Next up, the sights!</font></p> <p align="left"><font size="4">Chania, Crete:</font></p> <p align="left"><font size="2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmjeL0ieEkXikJMIj1303CxAQpAqp-uw12kS9X5taMmYyqFe-91R7-Lh0b3oLbew_5hTqWUgg5eSPZ4lGhoUGyLTx4gCFCD7UK6NguKlGld6GwutIdJezGABwA4mSQRTDXk12JOQ/s1600-h/CIMG3155%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3155" border="0" alt="CIMG3155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGRh3JvRV-rSF1EkXByrmuJOe7rD-D1aF5Ciou57CirS-bcPyBbvBxNI10rZajDS9qN2xb0AUmcbO4741uwLMlA0R05ZXiQlU22woJgBJOrrEoheefyic3PauPp8OQFkAe7hIYw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </font></p> <p align="left"><font size="2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG6WUnQs3yLJ6KSFb_IbcquRrPl0HWYISmYULanW5P4HuUoWH3xu3i5gtkdfPbdoYlZVbkNM8m2kn5vgeqaT3tzunS_3nXvZeOZxDiUIC-Uinfp2-KLwzL_17fyh64FnnjQIZsCw/s1600-h/CIMG3163%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3163" border="0" alt="CIMG3163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1OrYciJWuMGmtoEk_WXc84JR427dTLm20HKgYssZ56Yzti9A3vFJ2FpYFlTV0sSgqyteYQIzsEfGgBsde79vRcmBNXkX6OCdJOXRTUxSH1BvJBQ4vr5c-xQHGa_8HsVODPOPQw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </font></p> <p align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9iC1PIJda1eBdyPUYYphoNUxIiBhc-c0mjF9vbWE3zoj_Qd4kq5FUJ-F9m5UjxF0sC8NM4oLCb4ZwRvEUZYO6ljtd8vRwdyrnROJ4QlB4jmfNyqsvzIw0s5L35ioCBP-_kM30yw/s1600-h/P6150063%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6150063" border="0" alt="P6150063" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiRfKEvNTY48hPxlFM3kKbFRIK6zulJ27XVo9aksVz6oXaXEs3eZjnIT7U3knjg9iZg7rnV7tjGaa3TZ04gNFmUDUlPOrs5NwP60j16MwsFxfbQRu-R5SEtzALsN-SJzEePv0Zew/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><em><font size="1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfHf3r194PTuXyERMt3QtJdmzfwr4avEoPsgjmaimtsUl1N-zdHKkUrqJsuBY4lEw3EoleUIGPW52rjP6X0Lmd4oQj_deCoXrzvMREwPCD5eyO3S6xFYZ25uE8AsEpRYywpMCaZw/s1600-h/P6150076%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6150076" border="0" alt="P6150076" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt838JKCMI/AAAAAAAAAXg/Zw3x1tzqJqM/P6150076_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </font></em></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJqmsoye9vW5EZp2R5GjPGWLLAulphLBPbJ8cLuepDz_KcBLhTTemaq-yo4GmKpr0luaXgoXDCUrlNu0f0_D_LEx6AMYO3h3gN5cEd4SUr3vYIyluph6yHWwHVHO68B7JQL29UdA/s1600-h/CIMG3161%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3161" border="0" alt="CIMG3161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnlPQ-leSobizz5J7-IksRyRsmlxqxG40u9_Csu4Ty5EY-h1eUdcSz4tr6ikarAHi0EnGPST6PlCHw6YownxJ15uU3KR2d42zrzXnCYQIQ9Pi4T4g2iFCNv8K0S8pnhCZwthA_wA/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><font size="4">The Cretan Countryside:</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUMSg54fk8b-l4DBFerBhhzIx8GyXDTBc7ykrG_M9Zq_Amqr02R7yyUVVZIos8tLMMbGUaHYZ8jFvh8mKmzBUkxB5R4Ek_6WFpAy5wgUAb2fteacto_fj1OdZJfsUUaUUk8JjQ3A/s1600-h/P6160095%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6160095" border="0" alt="P6160095" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAEoI_VoIR4ShuX7IDU8aVgt6bCgRZWjbWFMxzBjaxHhmrggbU0XWyaENMDOxgDbSkNJMNdh7oq854i880hxvIsVCIcs4VUZgVNde3-6zgtoRbz9mNJW4oSP1XmqtLEsbp1LtlIQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUzsUn4ktPd46iuQtoH4fSwP2PWqFMaZS4m_1sTF5glhtNcg7-BotXOIPx0lCZNh1K8bHwv2UeLzXmjPaqAbZFHn_cKwYORZBzUW89NiiSjxL2gprNRTZ7hyJcpRFOQH8MVd817g/s1600-h/P6160107%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6160107" border="0" alt="P6160107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMoFFhw8zVVHT7-z8u_mzejOmwktoFtskzit0a_mG_qDEaW4upBGoRjGiigZ4DNfUmmTczxonDb4VPl44EhJsOYZ1wXYPZANwXotuwJ2T_AxV3G2tmdSCkRRtrbmAuQNMz7iTTg/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt86lsUa7I/AAAAAAAAAX8/0oaJN1Bqs6A/s1600-h/P6160108%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6160108" border="0" alt="P6160108" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOafZ8Ew2Pto4ebtmn5uskNDseCVcK9pPWaRlDTByZf69t98HbV2YbX4FZehyyH3NbFpX2PElWEBrUP6OWXJuY-Q3njX8RprJuc9nyB6TL1Se2aJJPustto2s30tP2Y8wlu3hOzQ/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p><font size="4">Heraklion, Crete and Knossos:</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwxa-qgsB-mhjXr1PJPeg4QctKJ3b0d0U1MZjYm3IY_3CQaZksDdSs2FZAEOaEG7uRo8W_pu7pyMJcyzaveihl1K-k8NxaomhrHf3A039s2YrE1W2ADeBUizBmImahVEhHdJ8bOw/s1600-h/P6160117%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6160117" border="0" alt="P6160117" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt88Bnyb9I/AAAAAAAAAYI/KuNIIOwU1LI/P6160117_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3D8pvcuxXWmHChA7VCJYhML82A9po6x34yo16oU66LA6PVDloWZWgXcjBlZ_w8cdH1EByzDpqmwblq6rXus6MHnHHnfF_jtzbIbu3AxQexyoZc5rUu2Ix_cJAiJXB0_rM1idJAQ/s1600-h/CIMG3202%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="CIMG3202" border="0" alt="CIMG3202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7V71POiozY-weSJBh89cuqkXTDScUW_w5rrs4HK99fDaZXlfleWmPMxUZHbhyphenhyphenHPkycdJoJ5as49CZyBYPEnrzDyJ4ImvH6vMVm4FSan_Op2bKC0zyGs7QarnBFZMyf7k9aQ0Jmg/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAQUMoRYzFH57koECakzHQAAOgRRdNVgUZzO6RmgunugMp5zB1Gfs7Toaj12xXXu3Y3EKjFFG8PE3KdOqn5tXIHau1nIXw_IYi4fI-hRajooJR7ZbcDAA3YKdb9tIQuuZo1UNmpw/s1600-h/P6170168%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6170168" border="0" alt="P6170168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoD7U-bBgGzp8imMvJRxZbgsKfHZ_OID5NVVZOLI30uKVNV2CuZnGuKIuwVKyVHcL_oqKQaBP6GirrxO6QRZpV4cbjaSm30culosHvGC3dcgtXwMVyKn7m_XbrESyvsRQAiGSs2g/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2s7Jrv2Q5rIr80EbjWx6vHsAZ65IryFJ24_N4d_d_x0vOBJJLJX74jA1BQ3_5-svdWeQUlndFZO1AGCdZBySFgayv-8PtkutPZ4Odw4l-tV8fNJrtpoHlgsnfm9J2YvfFTUPljg/s1600-h/P6170129%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6170129" border="0" alt="P6170129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJN-0a_Q8SWIwbSJOByK8tLZStEfbRXtVckf-qyQul_NJxruIvA-oie7N7lPYHbk8RMQ7h_-5Ix_fK_IOXZ6UHVh5YSYhyRWZSVH8-2cwxibmY5ga8u_3lOpdxhh1Ou5Cf-vDcA/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTgkKaad0yVSmUo6XHKcFEamwWEDIJ3lqvaPaWBxVvkTK6Z2h7Heb2SZiwcxB2k_Zo8h6G9_BXWijPL83lBMBVaQqT8pBQ6gCbZ7nJ-S409wHIzOGmGwb7q4rM5u_iO1ecGzLHmg/s1600-h/P6170133%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6170133" border="0" alt="P6170133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA2qo4dwKXjNPYD-q5C7daRxi5hoQLezb6lR2mJFqWvmJsIfw5ybYbJuGaOqTq1cINPwzsGq0CcmzNssXO0p5f6Q63Nw5xorwdHnI8tc3nCIO9aFnI1-aQlfPSxk50t-Il3SpqpA/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYnvNCxB9_APkGI9H8-nivsmtUdpL_3mQ3Ip0XIXJdcEtMF6M5wOn5NsvK0f7aAcmLxuZgepL1gcLPZ8LjggKmnV_z8GdL1SglJq4ejFZOtXFSgOfhW-eoYu84cRlw39dV31ccA/s1600-h/P6170135%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6170135" border="0" alt="P6170135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimXWYpit6XBYvryDK_H032enCUOch_xqn2MnXhMy7_ZWfJSLiuUVTIf8xbtVGCXFHdvSYvZtZ3Lie2n7KCmVXChpDiFHeO_a7mqap-lZzUB4odoL34PbS3QWnFl3-5FJDJ8Ru5Rg/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt9AoLcJUI/AAAAAAAAAY0/Cm4uj9Ah8U8/s1600-h/P6170137%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6170137" border="0" alt="P6170137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3hcTmcq5JgPwklwk-IkIa_suuPFGLoZgHODBU-ctCdoh2bHXEBzjL95OmtgoJN6mx0SDs-XRcUFOetUiEp5YGT6IVMu28d0Bh7h8WUXgv1pyD4QvaMd71EyzQc4stPPw1hpuQvw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1br-nsDfjgnzmeKrJtCK1ZsJ9b33-GpP_EjQ4NWiABBe9gVn-OhW1NAtRgu2wq6utbZveMraEyc6qy_e0-iu7OSIG6GXoXqp5sgxafCgzgwjmnbpGq1s7OBdug45OAa58qA2w6A/s1600-h/P6170140%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6170140" border="0" alt="P6170140" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt9CqG-ejI/AAAAAAAAAZA/412X0rHQHXk/P6170140_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p><font size="4">Santorini:</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-jXpX0VoSUraTsLwO7TDgIAQT67gnTKI0an1bKJou8r8sncQrs8OgdsBzMu1z4vD8lDJiuuh7So0Vpw_p4WuD49pKmEV12yist-3OJFFXYTpy-6rWTfYLFhIJhG_bdu2qYVlBA/s1600-h/P6180176%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6180176" border="0" alt="P6180176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNRvjmiVb1NYgx-bS-Bq17btn77zTZdnuuf9m947EBUs6QmaNyrCst8NlAMsJOpCEuw30Wb1zhPV_uLFywu9cHXSUT2M8Y2nwL8wtuVln98MwNdhwVQ2pGY9M0HMXh9RrvQl6BA/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt9DsGSdFI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/t1z6ybH_Ovw/s1600-h/P6180178%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6180178" border="0" alt="P6180178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioxJwUaLJ4SXiZISYNXe18k6MFC6xxrDvD5o2VYP3UbZj0DiIkYIIrmgpmdxTbs_uQbOEeWQIjXTjQ5OnktYiZncUP2zp24BUokrIh0cVqlz6dZd4chyphenhyphenPdSo-sWjNrIs_h8LVKKA/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAAjBo7yOBMlRkyZx9T7WUspoPDc6z7RJqOibe4QAJGBFiHoDgeX8SLJptZTprvi1QeLX3cfC0lG4G-JBpDEWFhY4Zqg0E6Sn3-29RJx_1bBaPHZc-Pm1bufaGEQ23OslnTzO34Q/s1600-h/P6180184%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6180184" border="0" alt="P6180184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHb7ou_w4T4kyahdKpYqNYjXCg76zqp5VznpDpPv64WbzHqvWBt18CE3QBxdUC2HxtHqY0f0u9Q8O7G0-JCzGNbbdFX_ENm706d5Oji9tZcrEVz4xrnmuB7vKkcUSDPCuo7JHVQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="68" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKACx2fztv7HFwJmpYDnxPbGD-QohXRgJknd-gNc8Yzt3JBaqed8RCRQkBbHX-7pi6h_r_KJMkLxvD0wCq7Box41CD3iy6ilybY5jptGd9U_U1BGhnfKv7_8kcc_DhK2gV5FNo2A/s1600-h/P6190231%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6190231" border="0" alt="P6190231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU6WW5QMi4mgKmo36NIzJOSg3dcUapyfGesXPialr-xcANx8vS4w-0GKYKdWAjgzheKJsvk_N2X-4PI1YypIcvLBTqbLgcaSzLnjKNxZaeY1SHK3dim9W7ChhMg_fVypoAKg8F8A/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtFhzhC85eKJor5yw8fEXSQY97op-ex2sE0gGSqDGR6JEw0RzwCn6_dIji9oPSMFya6dk15klttPZe1ud_2Y_7ZawH4Wn8sawznmEimiWCN-NkRstmG2CT_MF_nAOqVINmm_qClw/s1600-h/P6190250%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6190250" border="0" alt="P6190250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7DlaBmxE9OfYa7QXKBkzpdm2mi6csjqQb3SfM3qD3zXvK9p39BtVDAc9_8HdbG1vNwCABhiDBwYlfZqsmlM0dvrLp7dQNWXf3aq_n2h-QYT2Yel23c7SjEoFq6VJz9J80Br3kOg/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt9G471TXI/AAAAAAAAAZw/UWWPaajKsno/s1600-h/P6190264%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6190264" border="0" alt="P6190264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9HKGHKXXzLBe3_NZwmizOwXBv0sNDfLZgVas0krhc6vUEPr5RK1nV_Gw7PZ4PN_nASaDE2byvTc_D1xDlZv4Kj2Xa-2Aj6-7nEO2U4JUCbRMbt0TXhFsl1fbUffDbWn6d6ACHqQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3TJ59N4a2Xf6GDqJ_gBvsLFAV9rn3oNfpAYJa8ABe7Lhw-iUEk3t0RG7tUmPuWipGVbE4aToegR6jFHk3mJ5KRSluxkygmPfeMRp2OuRBJg0MF8xSihPS4TQ85al3Ed7MbJwPUQ/s1600-h/P6200299%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6200299" border="0" alt="P6200299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8kSZzgJl_tQNMLqekXS3m2TD7kn9K154ass5Uzme4zoHnUnX_lBOqazInyYXDhztU_QdDPOOk1SBfkVQjsfDyDgY38Gui2r8ZHeZcu1hS6olhI86c2qwF_VIRdNHL-YE3fiA7lw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpzcCp3oVCnxl5pV7uCj3mVipBknDGjhNWzKaT1Cz4XkOrET0gRc1_sYT0DTU1YaBcebfgqBH31bEHVfJBU05KD96x-ypGMcI_a-x4AxcwT22R3x2E2qQBqJe0rbKSakYBN4rOQ/s1600-h/P6210324%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6210324" border="0" alt="P6210324" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt9JiA8dfI/AAAAAAAAAaE/7r2hLj4WDBA/P6210324_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><font size="4">Mykonos:</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCjeqqKSnGbKWNfu0to-kRQpbw7lUJAWlkPrA3_jl01OHDlY-UF2FmuHFO0Xsq8rriilxGNPTh_nZwXYcfhREp_vy897H_FiBgupElcdTUXAT-9YiPjj3nsNmMo7WvTaBNwoDVOA/s1600-h/P6210330%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6210330" border="0" alt="P6210330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYeoHcG3aVZBPKlt00LmaF2rl11dRQ0VipjoC-mm3gN5wkCZE0r1ksEsNZMXGoIrswXRcPxgKWrjoQ7crVOVxY1jUsmqiWPASMpKzbWkyfE3glROE5wddLeXp5bwtVpjGzMGycg/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJYfbzMjPIPpzAoGTlocquBnisESg-rTDHBkRYqpKQWjEnWvjg7FTdrLbr3a847mWPGyzRIh7q0AKsi-vOhCsYEHGLXm-H0YBLktDzQ0jQ_KlsTM0D9hB_JelT2t0_m7vSUmqScw/s1600-h/P6220344%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6220344" border="0" alt="P6220344" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt9K60QVXI/AAAAAAAAAaU/yI8GvV74b5A/P6220344_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9B_jq9zmcTLCliJdAAPmq1RaDFFBrOaxR0cdr9iot7NYmwsS4r219Ta8OL98ngRIj9vmyh1WaEWCMZdaUaE3oSx1o8VfJ2klWyPRUilZNjidKXoLU1dKIx7Qwsq-oWVOtGOR6pQ/s1600-h/P6220348%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6220348" border="0" alt="P6220348" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt9LrDNwnI/AAAAAAAAAac/EliWq0DL-Ls/P6220348_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBmE08oHQUkAzktzcWfMw2rZo2Fz1jYG8d4BijV85Qb-f0QWdNWczlXkuuHtVfnS_yp9IR1FVFOC8kUFrTEKrHQoRAqThTk770PTbhtbz0QPjCNqEmXNEZOeOsPdc2hWfgCHd3w/s1600-h/P6220353%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6220353" border="0" alt="P6220353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD6w8XtRt7g2xYMCj1w2Qy5osxf0_WDNu9DtbQzs_fl0T2VxEhHVfx0ri1ZCLOxhmjgW97ZAC4cCIi4Uxz1EGcklz267S6NncKzlocOyR9YM44Fz05JqNrsf0i7jRtjg5vocre2w/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p>(Mykonos isn’t very pretty)</p> <p><font size="4">Athens:</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQfEOwTtI71IduDHLxkXdmsed23x61yKAOXLC-DsxLOWVVf36Nbn5oZcyBi_vf2b2vIi8YkNp07DjXuddzxcFJLp8qI2RFXvLqroQSE0nLcU0BbKu4ICQ921_R5b7NzWA_yb_vA/s1600-h/P6230362%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6230362" border="0" alt="P6230362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilYZSXB9oPDzT9CtnJM2Db0a37Ee7-lgf7FtFe-XBW-Stz-GQcl_ntIfpLKjeK8yBQPqBQGnwxppVwT-e9F-OP8Wd24fBOLtSM5i5wth7SsKQVOHINCHayvW3UmscgBz510HzA5g/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt9O92S7_I/AAAAAAAAAaw/mvnhol33M_o/s1600-h/P6230369%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6230369" border="0" alt="P6230369" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigbzFMusuV91t62OZkoOsw2yBFVrBqkgMY2WuBe7v4m-XrR6Tle1ni1lM60wGYxmfFMtEhZHcoBQxA7bI569zLa0bCVC_WwTRxG6ZhX1gcoA1IwdT1b0F-yMI0eVGTW8_v_aoL6g/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsK3mLEtsM-NPCxV4JhChqRvrdc9LqvVVovW7ltQUIahdv6rrgy8x2TS8gJ-M6ImQvb0w8nb37omx4cNniLj9LcFpKi2qatraK7WghzaVeNIzMzJMHk9we6cYsrQZ_dEcDk0EpzA/s1600-h/P6230370%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6230370" border="0" alt="P6230370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAk2_WquujzWGtJi_cW_gUZmXZrSCf1ozDrpMnQ00ED_TGat5FJ7eVjuIBwvWOuyh19HtBFcpA6jn51GHg15_TBsMZSUhJNk_wMvFkOrdlpPMovecqRGp9o5qKy9BmsizFRzDtog/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2kldtAKuO03wNAFaIIeDrUGlWd3VCvivAioB566NyczuHQQ6wFM-LB7Lyz2ORiFWd3h9Er5NF3ykfVdKLK6BMVZZuFbPk5grilGiIypU3Gxp_BNOQ8uGHgDBNFtzXcvA4Bx6fuA/s1600-h/P6230372%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6230372" border="0" alt="P6230372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghWN2PmXgaXtUMvHlpA8T7IpmA1JBPW7Ti1qzBC9pAxYnNiW5DToCGPRv-j9GEdFe5gVIBTg-Yyp-m5sDXMse9FbAyj8vssVn0o-h3ETNpANd3BQO0pABqqldav2g7-qS9opzKRg/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="67" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZZgTIkFl39iaaMrJx4ysC7Df35u18DjahnTzWpRBmx_2FmQvkYYyREd6Hoz4R86OZRKS3DV3xuczHcfZilvU_5plpglTRrQtFM-78vpAey_AAuoT756_ACaMqwLR_s0mFLcUw6w/s1600-h/P6230382%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6230382" border="0" alt="P6230382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgojrIdC7ua_uolKO0XvbnrNboCXG3q21RK_btSGvVb5gZ01z6lqMH33_7690FM79VoGVK6QWkRkthq5_DewE6OrXhiFz2qc1ok8tKrnSBnKapn-6mVt3Y1fZ4YybKiKuAIIjCqtg/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3nuFp9UGXfCNUzl9sOIuVtxjK3Dc34niRkzKPEprKowBwTb7AsZUVNaij8AFnUOz3zSE2DfHXvymOgZo2ztRv7xSkqdXhd25SyP8JglqZ6NmqG5l9Fx_1NRWj_myCRNldOdlnw/s1600-h/P6230385%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6230385" border="0" alt="P6230385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOe8aahafFP0sKeyfpua7HSwZAMO5au-2h0FsFYC8MiYRQZt5Dpgwh3rHvDkhTxNfDkUSIiTQEXE7sKPZk8johWvKBc87L22ZU6phjN3x03XbX0eya5GSipWXEl1qRSibtwxtgow/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ85cVqzCURRtUtjMsJnlE68vr1cwTljxaol5JrdY4-3DrDQGOrYTn22w_pZVy-sa5AeqlaNOexRxCnjBafir41jFr5DQUH5jFP9hbjfdRIJF7o5YizVQgNbkQ7Vp34hcmOZijvA/s1600-h/P6230391%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6230391" border="0" alt="P6230391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhX5nIm3kBiHa8l7uVMwn3CE_RodCtgdm56Dt86k9gixtFY22wMmAsPiHSsAdpWj9hinGUXLfWGiC9fGDUx3xmEcYDrQTf_C_Z4cfOgXYu8Fey0jCq-Qj8QXSvVps-k4qmuETjA/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TDt9UfrGR4I/AAAAAAAAAbg/JWXh1aNBfho/s1600-h/P6230392%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="P6230392" border="0" alt="P6230392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixrTfxcxU0t3pAMuIn7uawFKa-FVz9dYQYe0vKCU5fJQQvs0bsxqHZtq53U4ir1ejFZEckg0mpZ4fTgd1vFnVizVbUd8rUxi7ozWmNsLiTsNbVQIB9g_xCIJrM0OfrACromqCJhw/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p>Is that enough pictures for one post?  Good.  Sorry that took so long. I got bored in the middle and took a break. For a week. </p> <p>Back with regular blog posts soon! Woot!</p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-68056163513664146392010-06-11T15:05:00.001-04:002010-06-11T15:08:36.885-04:00Happy Beer Week!<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-zfGZV2ebi-8uiFJmDh7lwlGTQBCbAPeCXyAN7JEKGzJxCoW7-ruBMlIERg4Pc5foeiPxhi4v1Iex8YFBaEEWBkrGzVNYtcvsq68IlU6dzwrQ69-YPqBRKbWXE4bN1G8VkIJ6A/s1600-h/beerfest1%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="beerfest1" border="0" alt="beerfest1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-HqTuK4uMsXJpCksTRjmampKfboR4Vrgmq8bJXYNF4UU-VLgF6RSb1uGETSQucRotPeHsYtpYCIb5lN-a4ReR9ZFyb-3onUtXF5fhcTxmLxMbhXVMGqzf-9orRwzdLP-aYpuWyg/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> <a href="http://www.phillybeerweek.org/">Philly Beer Week</a> is the most-hyped holiday of the year in our household.  I’m not even exaggerating.  It’s bigger than Christmas, New Years, <strike>definitely</strike> Easter, and Thanksgiving.  The only holiday that may even compare to it is my birthday.</p> <p>It<strike> is</strike> used to be a big deal. We are self proclaimed beer snobs and <a href="http://www.phillybeerclub.com">Andrew</a> loves to pick the brains of homebrewers and craft brewers alike.  </p> <p>That’s what beer week began as: a series of cheap and informal events designed to introduce beer drinkers to craft brews, brewers and other beer drinkers.  It was designed to highlight smaller craft breweries that weren’t as mainstream as, say, Anheuser-Busch, and introduce their smaller batches of brews to new fans, demonstrating how tasty and affordable craft beers can be.  All while highlighting the use of sustainable practices, local products and unconventional methods.  I mean, what is not to love about that?</p> <p>Except that this year beer week activities are INSANELY expensive!! $60 a head for a flight of beers and some appetizers at events where the brewer might not even be in attendance? Something is amiss.  It seems to me that beer week has been snatched up by the marketing team of Philadelphia, and turned into yet another way to make money for the city, while ignoring the original intention of the event. It is inevitable I suppose.  And I am proud the Philly is now a respectable beer city.  I mean, we have bragging rights to some amazing local craft breweries:  <a href="http://victorybeer.com/">Victory</a>, <a href="http://www.dogfish.com/">Dogfish Head</a>, <a href="http://www.riverhorse.com/">River Horse</a>, <a href="http://www.slyfoxbeer.com/index.php/front/beer">Sly Fox,</a> <a href="http://www.yardsbrewing.com/">Yards,</a> <a href="http://philadelphiabrewing.com/">Philadelphia Brewing Company</a>, <a href="http://www.flyingfish.com/">Flying Fish</a>, <a href="http://www.stoudtsbeer.com/">Stoudt’s</a>, <a href="http://www.dockstreetbeer.com/">Dock Street,</a> <a href="http://www.noddinghead.com/brewery/">Nodding Head</a>, <a href="http://www.triumphbrewing.com/indexSPLASH.html">Triumph</a>, <a href="http://www.triumphbrewing.com/indexSPLASH.html">Troegs</a>, <a href="http://weyerbacher.com">Wyerbacher</a>, to name a few. That’s a damn impressive list if you ask me. </p> <p>So beer week has become commercial. And that’s disappointing.  But I am all about supporting our local businesses.  And if commercializing beer week means these local guys will do better and make more money, than I’m all for it.  They make great products.  Plus, Philly has beer events all year round, although less publicized and far less crowded.  For those who seek them out and attend, they are an amazing opportunity to meet brewers, try not-yet-or just released beers and score some good drink specials.  For those of us who love beer (and the craft of it, which I will admit is not my mostfavoritethingever, though I do appreciate the work) these events are a handsome reward for our love and devotion.</p> <p>It was Beer Week and we are not so snobby that we didn’t participate at all.  We did score half price tickets to the International Beer Festival last weekend, which was significantly less crowded than last year (and far more enjoyable, although I was sad there was no beer bingo.)  </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC9ZOpSDfgGfICHY9IEBUDHa3F1N3EkvY4SYRR7h_u0bwqSSgCRUEvdYqX0Fgz0abVOrDv7tg6TA9Q7ORIxLjpXDRNNIsCJs-GUnr2GZpnWhqTmp7P8DsxUFiI1INYexr1EXehGg/s1600-h/beerfest2%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="beerfest2" border="0" alt="beerfest2" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TBKI2ZH1pHI/AAAAAAAAAVg/at07Qk73fqo/beerfest2_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p>We had a really great time, ran into a bunch of friends and got to meet two new breweries: <a href="http://www.prismbeer.com/#/page-1/">Prism Brewing Co</a>. and <a href="http://www.harlembrewingcompany.com/">Harlem Brewing Co.</a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/TBKI2jGeylI/AAAAAAAAAVk/0b5hiWREbIM/s1600-h/beerfest7%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="beerfest7" border="0" alt="beerfest7" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ZnMarVWMF3AGWoam0rZ70yewLSDIMGHN8zRe2drBwzInBgWmB-SBt3H0JBOugQ2ILjGd62CEAwDer4hxd8-5S87WEj1IPHVjqLzZ36BlgzZb1fJ6X3UxALm2XLPbe4m8FYdiiQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p>On Wednesday, Andrew and I stopped by the Yuengling event at Elephant & Castle.  Their marketing guy found Andrew’s blog and invited him to have a chat with Wendy Yuengling. You can read about his chat <a href="http://www.phillybeerclub.com/">here.</a>  I used to drink Yuengling like it was my job back in college but after a few sips, I handed mine off to Andrew to finish. If I’m going to down a bunch of empty calories, I’d rather they be delicious (preferably hoppy) calories.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTn0bOhOxmyAZJPKq8gkXQO0WeVbzSnO4EPwgcg2lUUQ0nv8GSPnOSVZGilHBQcLl_MXh3EYUlwHxs_S39LQa5wzrCC0giGNaDYhqGRkzS-Y-26R2YcgtB3netp2RqdYDkMNlYWA/s1600-h/andrew%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="andrew" border="0" alt="andrew" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheT2jYZBK6s77J_WLZb24wMf3pQEAFo_41tqz6rARmn9JRUF94GeGmBW8vY4cTBmpKqPYl7_rBp1obrnSXX8xUBUKr28nRqkI03X3DcFungXZfQMYt-ScdMEfz5e-czsI4iLbDOQ/?imgmax=800" width="136" height="244" /></a> </p> <p>Last night, we headed over to Kite and Key to sample the <a href="http://beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/147/58048">Saison du Buff.</a> (Remember my post about Sly Fox and how much I love Saison? )  I consider myself a bit of a saison connoisseur, so I needed to try out this new brew, which was  colaboration between Victory, Stone and Dogfish Head. (This is another thing I love about craft brewers. You won’t ever find Anheuser Busch and Coors working together on a new brew.)  I thought the Saison du Buff was decent. It was a little hoppier and less spicy than most saisons.  It was light in color and in flavor which, in the case of saisons, I think makes it sub-par.  It didn’t have as much body as I would have liked, and I thought it tasted to “crisp'” for a saison, but I give them a thumbs up for effort. </p> <p>And now we get ready to go to Greece! You can expect a full report (highlighting the food and drink, obviously) as soon as I return!</p> <p> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:0767317B-992E-4b12-91E0-4F059A8CECA8:cd266628-1650-40e3-a3db-1f186a2d6e80" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent">Technorati Tags: <a href="http://technorati.com/tags/Philly+Beer+Week" rel="tag">Philly Beer Week</a>,<a href="http://technorati.com/tags/beer" rel="tag">beer</a>,<a href="http://technorati.com/tags/breweries" rel="tag">breweries</a></div> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-4867137045000586412010-06-10T11:52:00.001-04:002010-06-10T12:06:46.334-04:00False Advertising. (Or Something Like It)<p>In anticipation of my honeymoon to Greece this weekend (!!!) , I decided that I needed another bathing suit.  The one I have now is a strappy halter top tankini from JCrew.  I like it, its fine, but it gives me really weird tan lines. So when I sunbathe in my backyard (in the city, so trashy. Whatever.), I take the straps off and (if I’m lucky) only manage to flash Andrew in the process.  So I thought that I should look into get a bandeau-type top (just for when I lay out in the sun) so I can avoid the shuffling around and flashing.  JCrew makes a matching bandeau top for my bottoms but its like $60 and I don’t feel like spending that kind of cash right now.  I noticed a lot of mis-matched suits are in style so I thought I’d look for a cheaper printed top to go with the solid bottoms. </p> <p>This eventually brought me to Victoria’s Secret.  Now, just for reference, here is the color of my bathing suit from the JCrew website:</p> <p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi21E92xQ6TaWIdv_psjlsBVKowkXuZRpgj-Fzq3d9Sjx9xWMwI99Ch6ZkooAOQ3J9EAYE7S2ldynRR238MmGOFr3_-9FSDDsQ84fAmQaHuJw8RX6B2B_lGI5M6nU5z2LtGWFpuEg/s1600-h/jcrew%5B2%5D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="jcrew" border="0" alt="jcrew" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbNGMO38rxJ9DhCF5Famix3GXYhmlD-8hO6tXAQ1OFfLkAdODTT8PXcV-IyAs4NMfNdqyUqExAfF-K3igjBDu2-8FJAQGelBPWkUhEuvQ6122JQ9iCzW_hDXjf0lLEL5JLatvgw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="244" /></a> </p> <p>(That’s the expensive top that goes with my bottom)</p> <p>Anywhooo, after surfing around on VS for awhile (and consulting Jill, my resident fashion expert) I decided on this top:</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRSaJsJ-GgIJNpBkEUoCPLn05MPEcOUZh2hofdlhyphenhyphengOzyuXlw0Se3hRHkV9dVFs6ognSPp40oG8MPlfZf5V1xxFIfOi2jGR-heSRRa44wSblIIUvR38OCjc0DF7p-12rTJ56U4Q/s1600-h/New%20Picture.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="New Picture" border="0" alt="New Picture" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Gegf99CEFQ3toa-BJzHIsl7DMUJ5iOY1rtLnmuFgQyElCGeABPwdg-ZyECWOO9Fu9DtqBX0Dvh3-ECZlCp2diqVnXsV-GzDoVNDwfKHqRzq3oLdxZ0EaJ8uQy4WfD4vD7jDgIA/?imgmax=800" width="182" height="244" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p>I thought the top would look super cute with the plain orange bottom.</p> <p>Alas, here is what arrived:</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgX_wp66c35a5LjTWaPJHDJs3fLLPciPQIdJZW5nP1fe4t_RdJYMuBVKQXmkDTr9AUzHmdAPAbCXztO3lmM5gufRjTcvlW1Gmxqdv15EngYRBEYq5Bdocc7YDrgQPaii-V_Wl0w/s1600-h/bathingsuit%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="bathingsuit" border="0" alt="bathingsuit" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSjhcBH9Z3XsCFFIFgniUvhc13mSwLyz7UoJhWDfhvS80FyBEitz4Do5eA7M0-gPthUAEWx0gs97Fm_5HctRrZTft2xBZqSnrnRT4QTvqOeUvqJ2fLPrGBeAXyX5VxwwIAf9Urxw/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p>Fail, Victoria’s Secret.  <font size="5"><a href="http://www.victoriassecret.com">FAIL!</a></font></p> <p>This is the trashiest, fluorescent orange shit I have ever seen! Not only is the color way off, but that “gold” circle in the middle (which looks tasteful and almost like wood in the picture) is like the grossest fake gold I have ever seen! Even worse than the crap they sell in those stores on South Street.  Places like <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/nova-ice-philadelphia">this.</a></p> <p>I was so disgusted, I sent it back immediately.  This is definitely not the first time I have sent back clothing from Victoria’s Secret. When will I learn!?!?</p> <p>Dear Victoria’s Secret, </p> <p>Stick to underwear and bras. Your clothes, bathing suits, shoes</p> <p>and everything else you sell is crap.</p> <p>Love,</p> <p>Becky</p> <p> </p> <p>Naturally, Target saved the day. Again. I found <a href="http://www.target.com/Mossimo-Black-Print-Bandeau-Multicolor/dp/B002XS8LHG/ref=br_1_24?ie=UTF8&frombrowse=1&qid=1276184804&searchView=list&sr=1-24&node=1264686011&searchRank=pmrank&searchPage=1&rh=&searchSize=30&id=Mossimo%20Black%20Print%20Bandeau%20Multicolor&searchBinNameList=purchasing_channel%2Ctarget_com_size-bin%2Ctarget_com_primary_color-bin%2Cprice%2Ctarget_com_brand-bin">this</a> little (WAY cheap) ditty there yesterday. And it matches perfectly.</p> <p>Go figure.</p> <p></p> <p></p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: none; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:0767317B-992E-4b12-91E0-4F059A8CECA8:fc61100e-4875-4b96-8b06-4dc15251e22d" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent">Technorati Tags: <a href="http://technorati.com/tags/Victoria's+Secret" rel="tag">Victoria's Secret</a>,<a href="http://technorati.com/tags/Bathing+Suit" rel="tag">Bathing Suit</a>,<a href="http://technorati.com/tags/JCrew" rel="tag">JCrew</a>,<a href="http://technorati.com/tags/Target" rel="tag">Target</a>,<a href="http://technorati.com/tags/FAIL" rel="tag">FAIL</a>,<a href="http://technorati.com/tags/crap" rel="tag">crap</a></div> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-59033084477476923052010-06-03T10:41:00.004-04:002010-06-03T10:59:21.747-04:00You Sly Fox, You<p>Happy belated Memorial Day! I think this was the first year that we didn’t have any BBQ’s or parties or firm plans in place for the entire weekend! </p> <p>We decided to play it by ear and just relax. I read in <a href="http://www.gridphilly.com/">Grid</a> that the town of Phoenixville (out in the ‘burbs) has a cute<a href="http://www.phoenixvillefarmersmarket.org/"> farmer’s market</a> on Saturdays, so we decided to hike out there and check it out. (If you don’t read Grid, you must. It is basically the coolest publication to come out of Philly in <strike>awhile</strike> ever.)</p> <p>We had to return the rest of our wedding booze to the wine store first, so we ended up getting to the farmer’s market about 15 minutes before it ended. This turned out to be awesome because not only was the live music still jamming, but all of the vendors gave us great deals since they were about to close up shop. I forgot to take pictures, but we picked up the most delicious (sesame semolina) bread I’ve ever tasted. It was doughy and perfect and totally worth the 45 minute trip back for more. We also picked up some mixed greens, a nice mild and nutty cheese, some plants and flowers and a pound of oyster mushrooms.</p> <p>If that had been our only reason for heading out there, it may have been a bit of a wasted trip (except for the bread!) but <strike>while we were out there</strike> in honor of the start of Philly Beer Week, we decided to stop at Sly Fox for lunch. <a href="http://www.slyfoxbeer.com/">Sly Fox</a> is one of my absolute favorite local breweries so I was really excited to check it out. Upon first impression, I was pretty disappointed. Mostly because it was in a strip mall! (who knew?) </p> <p>We settled on a table outside and gave the beer list a look-see.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTADEsyr9mPaSyyh2NT-qb0KNPNXhNJz-ESW8slyIoB0JJxrk1q126YAahkc4EDyal7GZYaKKUosXq9aE8EHGk9bNjO9vhApCshqhTafGN_7dW8IQrDfQL6wd6gQgnt1thyphenhyphenHyuTw/s1600-h/slyfix%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="slyfix" alt="slyfix" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_hkmoyrs3fMCPebmZEuj0z7GwIFwg66sPkcL6ugqK6UxpEuZs-M4XriOsUxzJ7noPyvnDDQUv2Vn1jXf8-96cHlV-yRwvp1PeTZladpmPT6Z5r2SLJM1I_EXpCJJufo-B9fjT0Q/?imgmax=800" width="184" border="0" height="244" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://www.phillybeerclub.com/">Andrew</a> was going to give the <a href="http://beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/1853/49585">maibock</a> a try, since he just brewed his own version and wanted to compare, but they were out. (Sly Fox names it's maibock for the winner of it's annual goat races. This year its the Dax maibock. He won last year, too. He's the only repeat winner ever.) I decided on a flight of the Helles, Royal Weiss, Pils, IPA and the Saison. Here’s the thing, kids. Sly Fox has the second best Saison I have EVER had (top honors go to <a href="http://belgianexperts.com/Dupont.php">Saison Dupont</a>. If you haven’t had this, go get yo’self some stat. Thank me later.) The Sly Fox Saison VOS is smooth and lemony with hints of clove and a nice hoppy finish. Totally drinkable all year long.<br /></p> <p>I can’t remember what was in Andrew’s flight and that’s because when he went inside to use the bathroom, they had a whole bunch of available beers on a chalkboard inside that were not on the other beer list! Super big fail, Sly Fox. So he ordered a bunch of beers off of that list and then couldn’t remember what they were. But here’s what they looked like:</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7xct18aGRzimWEgsb-rlv0KedEOgmrGx6IQbuzniCEY-5SVKYoQYduXvEem4i6Jl6HoT4mGWgevRrrUa_jjhN4ChSc71kwLIV-ONqAkwEsaW0UOnVnaOXcw3-ZPJjVNHjMXORkw/s1600-h/slyfox3%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border: 0px none ; display: inline;" title="slyfox3" alt="slyfox3" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCSyTyXrqJJj6FlsnSV2lzHnDEhiVelEt2TznNpPwBGCjpka9EJt0G70JFgvvhOm0WQgyUHIffxyvuYh6OQ0XyfjUvNp-Ff_73HzEaiHtkPu8mJqJiP5P94sBkdF-5Tc2i-MLfw/?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" height="184" /></a> My flight is on the left, his on the right.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIEtJZNLEdfT4py23XdLlldfqnd5fwOrqGgunkUeVfC7iZtgY-lNgKA_hHpa0LI4zbn6V-g8zh06sEHTcPXAHtdhqw8dw1ncPN0B17jTjVuQhX7odlYjQH9cUDDLEy_-Da3XJrGA/s1600-h/slyfox1%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border: 0px none ; display: inline;" title="slyfox1" alt="slyfox1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBhkCJQ4leSQoIWCy_d-pg6_KarbTSr1o-88r7lRJVcuAtEfQZC0CcCMfyksnUJaXQ09KQVUiTIikrfvmP4g0tLMe5BFUGg3khuR8DhAj2W6X_7ni706mBc34wJBLZ46xA1iCZQ/?imgmax=800" width="184" border="0" height="244" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhScvLJDBYpzB97HMAg6EOVbJPq-5eYLDzF5hd1OETBI3rjwABn75lLkCCouJe8IdlEHBi-OrR7xV5Xkzj6rfKi3g4LLy_uYP5oo6-QAXkuVzf_Ofsj3mU_0t0c8yTINnLoyoNCTA/s1600-h/slyfox2%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border: 0px none ; display: inline;" title="slyfox2" alt="slyfox2" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORJUFUk1CDpFrIoG_gAt6W-B0GKhyphenhyphenoOk-iDYmdKg8qpazwOE5dtU5edsp5BhWt3j-mhwaCF7eR8KbK5PMwHtK8CeKWNhEIdof6AOHHGB_EDFjc4lyETdeL2NcbSY1a3UaEIuuyA/?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" height="184" /></a></p> <p> I like to drink beer. Andrew likes to “experience” it.</p> <p>I didn’t take pictures of our food (taco salad for me and a cuban sandwich for him), but it was okay. The beer was definitely the highlight.</p> <p>We took home some 750’s and then went to watch the Flyers lose in game 1. Whatever.</p> <p>Next up: <a href="http://www.phillybeerweek.org/">Philly Beer Week!</a> I’m not sure how much of this we will actually celebrate this year , since the cost of events has SKYROCKETED in the past two years. We are going to the <a href="http://www.greatbeerexpo.com/philly/">International Great Beer Festival</a> on Saturday (we got half price tickets. There is no way I would pay $50 to spend 4 hours waiting in line for sips of beer with a bunch of sweaty drunk people. But for $25, I will.)</p> <p>What can I say? I’m cheap! </p> <p>10 Days until we leave for our honeymoon to GREECE!!!</p>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-7010962121554398682010-05-28T14:26:00.001-04:002010-05-28T14:26:23.286-04:00In Which the American Media Shats on Culture and Embarrasses Women…Again.<p>Dear Smart and Funny Women Who Keep Blabbering About How Excited They Are to See the Sex And the City 2, </p> <p>Please read <a href="http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/burkas-and-birkins/Content?oid=4132715">THIS</a>.</p> <p>Thanks!</p> <p>Love,  Becky</p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18000525.post-79077794427352773732010-05-24T16:45:00.001-04:002010-05-24T16:45:06.764-04:00Wedding Stuffz, Be Gone!<p>Hello to whoever is out there!  I apologize for my 2 month hiatus.  I was in Estrogen Land putting the finishing touches on my wedding.</p> <p>I am relieved and happy (and a little bored butinagoodway) now that it is finally over. I am now attempting to resume life as normal (just with a new last name) and impatiently waiting for all of the checks I wrote to freakin’ CLEAR already so that I can balance my damn checking account.  Along the lines of resuming normal life, I am happy to report that I am cutting all ties with the wedding world.  </p> <p>That’s right! I am graciously giving up wedding blogs, episodes of “Say Yes to the Dress",” and my obsession with weather.com (outdoor wedding + expensive non-refundable tent deposit = weather induced anxiety)  Andrew <strike>made me promise to give them up once the wedding was over</strike> is really excited about this. And actually, I am too. Because weddings are just overly commercialized and if I have learned one thing, obsessing about any wedding related detail is just a waste of time.  Because no matter how many dress fittings you have, it probably won’t stay put (or look the same) once you get dancing.  And no matter how many times you walk through the venue with your caterer, they will probably still forget something.  And no matter how much you obsess about the weather, if it rains, it rains. I’d like to meet any bride (zilla or otherwise) who can do anything about the weather. (Disclaimer: this is hindsight.  I realize that for the <strike>week</strike> fifteen days before the wedding I was a total nutcase about weather.  I’m just trying to pass on my two cents with the hopes of saving someone else from such unnecessary stress.)</p> <p>It turned out to be an amazing day, weather –wise.  I stayed calm and collected and then drank too much and sort of ruined the end of the night (and all of the pictures).  But if you know me in person, you know that this is pretty much how I roll and probably wouldn’t expect my wedding/most important day of my life thus far to be any different.  </p> <p>So there was that.</p> <p>Then there was the awesome incident of me falling and spraining BOTH of my ankles 6 weeks ago.   So those runs I was training for (10miler and 5k) didn’t happen.  In fact, for almost 3 weeks, NO exercise happened. </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpBoeXZA7qNZ0kE1X2aUCATvsnht-g4tDwaTrHTPzwnfdiFmDfb_lteCjVFQhz9qxAYIb0aj_EvZnHI9Q2qoSFWHgDQlZOT7pjOCd0MKgzAkYDhim5XikRMX39uLOW_kxlb2eRg/s1600-h/legs%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="legs" border="0" alt="legs" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3mkhGG_mdqsWmIsewpbJqei2tYXzzC-6_MwSyGYRBZhjHFnyX0dRw7UV9MxMMdMPVDUKZNUAmchmELLl4pH7WbcI2a40g163NbcssyIyM2Lpl_XeufbYat7PbeG-qP9Zhw9xfA/?imgmax=800" width="184" height="244" /></a> </p> <p>(Can you imagine how much fun I was to be around?)</p> <p>I cried for the first 2 days after I fell about how I couldn’t do the runs and all of my hard work went out the door.  And then I argued with Andrew about how I was going to be fine in 2 weeks. And then I got pissed off at myself for being clumsy.  And then I (finally) accepted my fate and decided to make the best of it.</p> <p>Turns out, it was a blessing in disguise.  I was going too hard, too fast, too often.  I wasn’t present. I was just hustling around and pushing myself too much.  I’m not a very good listener when it comes to these things.  So the Universe took matters into its own hands.  </p> <p>I couldn’t even get my sorry butt out of bed, let alone walk.  So I rested, slept a lot and really focused on healing.  I did everything they told me to: rest, ice,compression, elevation for 3 weeks STRAIGHT.  Here’s the thing.  I have sprained my ankle at least 2-3 times per year for the past ten years.  I always take a week or so off from running (but still do other things), I start to feel better and I’m off again.  4 months later it happens again. Rinse, repeat.</p> <p>I’m tired of being hurt all the time so I’m taking recovery seriously this time.  My doctor said I could do any activity that didn’t hurt with the exception of running.  So I tried the elliptical. After 3 minutes, it hurt like hell.  Old Becky would have kept going and worked through the pain.  This time, I got off.  I gave up the idea that if I wasn’t killing myself, I wasn’t healthy.  </p> <p>I have made very good friends with the recumbant bike.  I feel SO lame doing it, but its the only thing that doesn’t seriously irritate my ankles. I have stopped obsessing over getting to the gym everyday and instead, go when I feel like it.  I focus on core stuff, arms and whatever light cardio I can do pain free.  And I’ll be damned if I haven’t lost 7 pounds and my blood pressure is finally (comfortably) in a good place. </p> <p>My theory is that I was being so rigid with my training and my working out and not ever giving myself a break that I was just a walking ball of stress and anxiety about the run and my appearance.  Stress is a major culprit when it comes to weight gain, there’s plenty of evidence to demonstrate that.  Its really nice waking up without the feeling of dread, knowing I have to get in a workout at some point.</p> <p>So I just decided to watch what I eat, relax, gym it up when I felt like it, and CHILL OUT.  (Note: chilling out is REALLY hard for me. But I did the best that I possibly could.)  </p> <p>And, when all was said and done, if I hadn’t gotten hurt, I (may) have looked a little better in my wedding dress, but it wouldn’t have changed how happy I was or how amazing I felt.  That was going to happen no matter what.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTOVPB-lifUOWammKtOgrw305hadGVLv-gv6uhRo5qusokW2RJfBOPjy-USVKFBfzgLssRbjVeg-lzMnyoZ3ntaJdAWLuIwCA6woGsRcUq3Z11D0tsjoHJPdSq7F2EvlvGq6FcwQ/s1600-h/wedding1%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="wedding1" border="0" alt="wedding1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0ZDCqtCW5jad1J0C0I8A3LVMV6qXAQMe1eOorfZQx03Ityf6_pdI4R8wy6RZW5QLWFT4Go4Un126WB-T0xEjqH09W_2VHHUKv-f5TjhtubrKHZH3JYAMqF6EpMW_oT44qMCIjQ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/S_rlTHwlAnI/AAAAAAAAAUM/JbrKwx7lYN8/s1600-h/wedding2%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="wedding2" border="0" alt="wedding2" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga8wjN15FsAfUAjO8qYtGRHYsp-DpNxarsQ37hOsGOY-nirRoDC6lNPP4l9zKkgbfqaWcr6sYxgvYj5sInihzELvSWHMD38pQqKdxxvT2OjlwXOqzNq2ixxZaOqfqRMl_uNdcYAg/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBc18kV-rkx1YH66JPK3zxoIkfte2DmPVUdMl0_wMCyS1PuXn4RKSKgUHxF3QkTvOrmc6l3hOlG3nyW3NngkU6BUfexfpGHIhETx-ReWBSB-_YjXkrKrzmi-PrdoFyDWi3YGRu3w/s1600-h/wedding3%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="wedding3" border="0" alt="wedding3" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_2saiESZespc/S_rlUWDCnPI/AAAAAAAAAUY/67Ker_dVjI4/wedding3_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /></a></p> Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04353215045505138534noreply@blogger.com3