tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37539647574520681452024-03-13T08:46:57.460-07:00Manless in MesaUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger109125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-66579135850301133852013-12-04T19:17:00.003-08:002013-12-04T19:17:54.814-08:0028 days left of being 31This sounded a whole lot cooler when there was 31 days left, which is when I started this post. I was thinking I'd come up with 31 things that I learned and/or did as a 31 year old, (clever, right?) but I got stuck...<br />
<br />
So let's sum up 31, for those who weren't paying attention. <br />
1. I trained. I trained my tail off. Literally. After I decided to dedicate this year to kicking my last Ironman's butt, I enlisted the help of a coach and on December 3rd gave up my life. Literally.<br />
2. Swimming in the dead of winter is dumb. At 5 a.m. There were mornings steam was coming off the water, which was good for my mental game, because it made me think the water was warm. It was not.<br />
3. Running a lot makes me faster. It does not, however, make me faster than people who do not train. To my dismay.<br />
4. Everyone should take a trip to Rocky Point. I may not have loved EVERY minute of it, but I did love many minutes of it.<br />
5. Always be aware of cameras. To be truthful, I learned this years ago and sadly I only started practicing it this year. What is also sad is that being aware still produced some pretty freak-tastic pictures. For those who've seen them, you're welcome.<br />
6. Hand-me-downs are awesome. Even as an old lady.<br />
7. Waking up continuously at 4:30 a.m. is really, really hard.<br />
8. I love roadtrips with my friends.<br />
9. San Diego is awesome.<br />
10. Do not wear heels of any kind to The Gallery. You will always regret it.<br />
11. I had a deprived childhood. Finding NKOTB as adult means many lost years drooling over Donny Wahlberg. I am sad.<br />
12. Boy bands are for people of all ages.<br />
13. Never go running without socks. No socks=blisters.<br />
14. Flashy shoes don't really make you run faster.<br />
15. Spray tanning is awesome. I look like I just got back from Maui and it only takes 15 minutes (and I only look like an Oompa Loompa 5% of the time).<br />
16. If I had more money I would buy season tickets to Gammage.<br />
18.Abbey is allowed to host Thanksgiving. Her and her minions did a great job (even if I didn't get any leftovers to take home).<br />
19. Justin Timberlake is delicious. #nomnomnomnomnom<br />
20. I give men more credit than they deserve. Seriously. Overanalyze and overthink things and I look like a fool. Take things at face-value, I...still look like a fool? Huh?<br />
21. Abbey is allowed to host Thanksgiving. Her and her minions did a great job (even if I didn't get any leftovers to take home).<br />
<br />
See? Stuck. Feel free to help me out.<br />
<a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-91003015452005136592013-11-27T21:52:00.003-08:002013-11-27T21:52:59.672-08:00I Swam Straight: The Katie Rigby Ironman 2013 StoryHoly crap, a new blog post!<br />
<br />
Let us rewind to the morning of November 17th. Really, really early in the morning. I ate my banana with peanut butter. Grabbed all my nutrition, yes meat pockets, along with swim gear and jumped in the truck to be carted off to certain death (okay, maybe death is too strong a word for Tempe Town Lake but whatever). <br />
I head to my bike first because, well, I had stuff to drop off. Stuck my water bottles in their cages and pumped up my tires while avoiding eye contact with those around me so I didn't have to share my bike pump-you know when you give it to one person you'll never get it back. It's true. This is the point I head to the port-a-potty. <br />
If you ever do an Ironman, you gotta get to the port-a-potty early because otherwise you're screwed, make a note.<br />
Can't feel anything but nerves at this point and just doing what I'm supposed to do. Bodymarking, check. Wetsuit on, check. Toss your morning clothes bag to loved ones, check. Grab your cap and goggles and head to the gigantor TYR inflatable, check. Yeah, at this point I'm freaking out because they're going to tell me to jump in the water soon and swimming, well it just sucks. And a 2.4 mile swim sucks hard. What's going on in my head? "Don't drink the water. Don't drink the water. Don't drink the water."<br />
Pros go off. My turn.<br />
I get in the water plugging my nose and holding my goggles to my head, which is what smart people do so they don't lose their goggles before the swim even starts, right? Everyone is swimming and I'm squashing the minor panic attack the splashing brought on. Pretend swim to the start before the gun goes off, ha ha, at least I made an attempt to. My rule of thumb with the swim is this: No sense in getting run over. Let the people who are in a hurry swim over the top of each other so I am not on the receiving end of a black eye. You non-swimmers, you get me right? <br />
Swim was alright. I started counting breaths. I swam straight! That never happens! The only issue I had during the swim was when some fool kept cutting me off. He was NOT swimming straight and he just wouldn't get out of the way.<br />
Out of the water, looking particularly awesome in my wet tri suit I stop to wave at the fans and make faces for those taking pictures (that's the only explanation for the photos that were taken of me) and head to the changing tent. Where I changed. By myself. Some of those ladies must have been in pretty bad shape because they were hogging all of the volunteers. <br />
According to my transition time I mosied to my bike and the bike mount. Hey, it was going to be a long weekend, I was conserving my energy.<br />
On the bike. Pedal, pedal, pedal. About two miles in I realize I have to pee. My apologies to the hardcore triathletes, but no way was I "going" on my bike. Eew, just eew. I did my best to forget about that minor need. Drink water. Pedal, pedal, pedal. Up the Beeline. No wind. Lots of drafting. Drink water, eat. Pretend I don't have to pee. Smile at the nice volunteers. Down the Beeline. No wind. Lots of drafting. Drink water, eat. Smile at the nice volunteers (particularly the nice ones at Bike Special Needs who knew my name). Pretend I don't have to pee. Back into town, wave at KFC who did an excellent job making themselves known. Pretend I don't have to pee. Pedal, pedal, pedal. Up the Beeline. Wind. Drafting. Get lapped by friends. Pretend I don't have to pee. Drink water, eat. Down the Beeline. Frickin wind. Stopped at Special Needs ONLY for the bathroom (it got really hard to pretend). Smile at the nice volunteers. Back into town, wave at KFC. Pedal, pedal, pedal. Up the Beeline. Didn't see many peeps (they're all on the run course). Drink water, eat. Down the Beeline. Wind. Stupid, mean wind. Drink water, eat. Pretend that the pain in your rear end is not really that bad.<br />
Riding a bike for any extended amount of time is painful. For me, because my saddle hates me, anything over 3 hours is excruciating. So for the duration of the second and third lap, well, it hurt.<br />
Back into town. Throw your bike (yeah, you heard right) in the direction of the nearest volunteer and head into the change tent. Again.<br />
I got help this time! Nice lady put my race belt on me. I forgot to change shorts (quick stop to the port-a-potty fixed that). Also, thank you Dr. Hoy for making that magical gunk.<br />
Oh the frickin run. My head was in such good shape until I tied up my neon yellow kicks. I ran out and waved to KFC (thanks KFC!). Freaked out. Ran into some more fans (thanks fans!). Freaked out. Walked for too long. This is where I had a heart-to-heart with my self. I said, "Self, this is going to take a ridiculous amount of time to finish if you walk. Suck it up." Run 3, walk 2.Drink water, eat oranges. Mega blisters developed and were not really friendly after mile 10. Didn't they understand I had goals?! Smiled, kind of, to the KFC on the second loop. It was hard to smile when your toes have become blisters, ya know, but I did my best. Then it happened. It exploded. The blister exploded. Mile 20. Sunday, bloody Sunday. I walked. Had to have another heart-to-heart. Sounded a lot like the first one. Run 3, walk 2. <br />
Finally, FINALLY, the finish is around the corner. Oh I ran. I ran hard. I remembered there were cameras (mostly, finisher pics show that maybe I wasn't as aware as I should have been). People in the stands are going nuts. They love me (everyone does, heh heh heh). Amazing friends catch me. Stupendous KFC spectathletes waiting for me.<br />
15:46 clock time. <br />
Done.<br />
<br />
Mega thanks to those who coached me, trained with me, and listened to me whine, to the people who pushed me, cheered for me, and lifted me up. You are awesome. Let's do it again.<br />
<a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-69647729796936450192011-07-01T23:07:00.000-07:002011-07-01T23:27:32.017-07:00Marry HimAt the prompting of a friend, I read a book about a month ago entitled <u>Marry Him: the case for settling for Mr. Good Enough</u>. More than once I have been told that I am too picky about who I date (thanks family!). I never really saw it as being picky. I thought that compiling a list of "must haves" and "deal breakers" based on men I have gone out with was only helping me become aware of what I want and what I don't.<br />Well the book was a little bit of an eye-opener. Contrary to what it sounds like, it's not a book about settling for less than the best, but more about being realistic about who is out there. As I get older (yeah, I'm no longer 22) I realize that the idea of being the single, spinster teacher who collects themed cardigans really isn't appealing and take a look at what needs to be changed so I don't become crazy sweater lady. My aforementioned list isn't getting any shorter, in fact, it's really long and when I look at what's available in the men department it becomes quite clear that there aren't any that resemble who I'm looking for on paper. So what has to give?<br />I've decided to ditch the list that began when I was a 12-year-old Beehive and I'm taking a new approach. This time I am looking at wants vs. needs. Yes, I <em>want</em> someone with Ryan Reynolds's looks (uh, actually, I really want Ryan Reynolds), but I don't <em>need</em> someone with movie star looks. When I really ponder over what I <em>need</em> in a significant other, the list is much shorter.<br />Now that I am armed with some new ideals I've re-vamped my match.com profile (that IS an online dating site, where else do teachers meet men?) and I'm giving dating another go. This time I'm attempting to be a little less analytical when it comes to the old criteria in hopes that I get some different results.<br />Let the mayhem ensue.<br /><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-41918719047188015652011-03-19T13:21:00.000-07:002011-03-19T15:22:53.084-07:00San Francisco, what's with the rain?Warning: there are a lot of pictures below. Not only a lot of pictures, but a lot of my rambling to accompany them. Lucky you. San Francisco, you're pretty darn cool, however, I wish you had respected the items I had packed and had weather that accommodated. Instead, I got one day of sunshine and 3 days of rain, the spitting kind. So in the words of one of my favorite San Franciscans: How rude!<br /><br /><br /><br />All in all, I had a blast. Please enjoy my amazing photography skills. And wit.<br /><br /><br /><br />Guess where we headed first. I'll give you a hint, we had to climb Everest first:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bvdRHyR58Ac/TYUimH5Bk6I/AAAAAAAAAmA/_McwrMaKUc8/s1600/DSCN0945.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585908951171568546" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bvdRHyR58Ac/TYUimH5Bk6I/AAAAAAAAAmA/_McwrMaKUc8/s400/DSCN0945.JPG" /></a> And if that wasn't enough:<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xDS5iDiXkCA/TYUily0vtXI/AAAAAAAAAl4/B0rJXsO7KXM/s1600/DSCN0947.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585908945516475762" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xDS5iDiXkCA/TYUily0vtXI/AAAAAAAAAl4/B0rJXsO7KXM/s400/DSCN0947.JPG" /></a> Hello "crookedest street!"<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eJIWc3JV4FE/TYUillGUpeI/AAAAAAAAAlw/I0NHO3qnMUk/s1600/DSCN0948.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585908941832103394" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eJIWc3JV4FE/TYUillGUpeI/AAAAAAAAAlw/I0NHO3qnMUk/s400/DSCN0948.JPG" /></a> We walked up it too. My calves ached for 4 days. I'm not kidding. I totally love my stick shift auto, but should a rich and handsome man whisk me away to San Francisco to live happily ever, I'd be getting me an automatic. Holy hills!<br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ehb4HAmjdAM/TYUilWRCtVI/AAAAAAAAAlo/Z02LM1e1Ar8/s1600/DSCN0944.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585908937850533202" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ehb4HAmjdAM/TYUilWRCtVI/AAAAAAAAAlo/Z02LM1e1Ar8/s400/DSCN0944.JPG" /></a> This is the only day of sunshine. We thought it was a good sign. We were wrong.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s3c_NNmPqYE/TYUhZRY-_HI/AAAAAAAAAlg/fMwwZX6VqCg/s1600/DSCN0949.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585907630871608434" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s3c_NNmPqYE/TYUhZRY-_HI/AAAAAAAAAlg/fMwwZX6VqCg/s400/DSCN0949.JPG" /></a>Here comes the rain. We went to Blazing Saddles and suited up some sweet mountain bikes for a trek across the Golden Gate Bridge and through quaint cities such as Saucalito and Tiberon. These pictures were from the beginning of the ride. Before the downpour. At that point in time our fingers were frozen and we were worried about ruining our cameras to document.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I digress. Hopper's hands. I have no idea what they are, but I saw a smokin' hot runner-as in shirt off and ripped) run over and touch. Naturally I needed to follow suit.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FnwJPSRL7pU/TYUhZDmeoLI/AAAAAAAAAlY/zdadEXNs34E/s1600/DSCN0956.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585907627170111666" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FnwJPSRL7pU/TYUhZDmeoLI/AAAAAAAAAlY/zdadEXNs34E/s400/DSCN0956.JPG" /></a> We found some nice, if oblivious boys to take this one. At least he was thoughtful and captured the bridge. See our bikes?<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RmdDmDq1FBo/TYUhYyDEyKI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/lo9GGX58P6k/s1600/DSCN0954.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585907622458214562" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RmdDmDq1FBo/TYUhYyDEyKI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/lo9GGX58P6k/s400/DSCN0954.JPG" /></a> Underneath. Cool huh?<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IXcX2A65PGw/TYUhYj1FCEI/AAAAAAAAAlI/AsgSMv2zGVQ/s1600/DSCN0958.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585907618641414210" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IXcX2A65PGw/TYUhYj1FCEI/AAAAAAAAAlI/AsgSMv2zGVQ/s400/DSCN0958.JPG" /></a> You could have wrung our clothes after our ride. I am proud to say we rode all 21 miles to Tiberon (21, not the 18 that the stupid map said).</div><div> </div><div>Chinatown. We didn't stop, just zoomed through. Kind of cool backdrop though.<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-61RueSG0cas/TYUhYZkkBDI/AAAAAAAAAlA/t8aUIxD3BUs/s1600/DSCN0966.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585907615887787058" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-61RueSG0cas/TYUhYZkkBDI/AAAAAAAAAlA/t8aUIxD3BUs/s400/DSCN0966.JPG" /></a> I was tempted to open an account here. Who wouldn't want a bank that looks like this?<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585905458101596018" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EF1_nw_d91g/TYUfazMPr3I/AAAAAAAAAkY/A_g7B7hBIq4/s400/DSCN0969.JPG" /></div><div>Ferry Building. Pier 1. Get it? Pier 1. :) Super cool shops inside. I'm still a little bummed we didn't stop and get a grilled cheese at the cheese shop inside. Next time.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585905478140679922" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tj9CjYzkH4M/TYUfb9171vI/AAAAAAAAAk4/oe0E90IgrT4/s400/DSCN0973.JPG" />Bay Bridge<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Txsdmm-HOU/TYUfbv1sXtI/AAAAAAAAAkw/8DeNcLSLQ5c/s1600/DSCN0972.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585905474381569746" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Txsdmm-HOU/TYUfbv1sXtI/AAAAAAAAAkw/8DeNcLSLQ5c/s400/DSCN0972.JPG" /></a>Public toilets! Sweet! There's a 20 minute time limit at which point the doors open. The random maintenance dude mentioned he's seen a few things inside here that were pretty odd. I can only imagine...<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585905464002648066" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iCphhd0bNfg/TYUfbJLKmAI/AAAAAAAAAkg/F0vom2c89tU/s400/DSCN0970.JPG" />Lisa thought about going in, but discovered that there was no TP and it didn't smell to sanitary. Guess it's time to refill the soap.<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hiew8NTT7do/TYUfbeHKaBI/AAAAAAAAAko/alWN-7NJIog/s1600/DSCN0971.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585905469623003154" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hiew8NTT7do/TYUfbeHKaBI/AAAAAAAAAko/alWN-7NJIog/s400/DSCN0971.JPG" /></a> Now for my favorite part! Alcatraz. I am FASCINATED! We were really, really TO'd that we couldn't go on the night tour. Can you imagine a night tour of "the Rock?" I'm going next time. I really think they need to give the backdrop in this picture a little more atmosphere. Where's the fog?<br /><div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585903878068021330" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mheFhY1E3jQ/TYUd-1G4qFI/AAAAAAAAAjw/gAGK6H28BRI/s400/DSCN1017.JPG" /> Cool, right?<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585903885200156210" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LJH_j9KKqGc/TYUd_PrUZjI/AAAAAAAAAj4/WsrBYpuSW08/s400/DSCN0976.JPG" />View of the city from Alcatraz. Yes, it rained.<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OR_V5oIPFtw/TYUd_7RTyuI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/q0gQaWGpcYM/s1600/DSCN1008.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585903896902224610" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OR_V5oIPFtw/TYUd_7RTyuI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/q0gQaWGpcYM/s400/DSCN1008.JPG" /></a>The showers. They used to have stalls, but to keep inmates from fighting they took them down. I seriously loved this tour!<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585902959815443202" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ygr2Px1t9-0/TYUdJYWaQwI/AAAAAAAAAjI/2spa-PBjhZk/s400/DSCN0992.JPG" />After the shower this is where the clothes were.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585902962515847298" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--s_UdoAaNCM/TYUdJiaPKII/AAAAAAAAAjQ/-4g5iiX8QVM/s400/DSCN0993.JPG" /></div><div>A cell.</div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585902968553996114" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4JBOhtnOH_E/TYUdJ451_1I/AAAAAAAAAjY/TJUOMTjewhg/s400/DSCN0998.JPG" />Lisa in a cell. Don't worry, I didn't make her stay there.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585902977880247922" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AQl-ZKu7N_8/TYUdKbpZTnI/AAAAAAAAAjg/AewWO-zqPSg/s400/DSCN1000.JPG" />The rec yard. I thought it was pretty lame that we didn't get to go down into it.<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WEns3_PD19U/TYUd_jOJ7DI/AAAAAAAAAkI/NnJzk32ABY8/s1600/DSCN1004.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585903890446543922" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WEns3_PD19U/TYUd_jOJ7DI/AAAAAAAAAkI/NnJzk32ABY8/s400/DSCN1004.JPG" /></a>What's left of the Warden's house. Apparently it was destroyed by a fire.<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LjzUowAq3bU/TYUd_SU6MbI/AAAAAAAAAkA/DJfA1pllVx8/s1600/DSCN1006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585903885911470514" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LjzUowAq3bU/TYUd_SU6MbI/AAAAAAAAAkA/DJfA1pllVx8/s400/DSCN1006.JPG" /></a> I LOVED this part of the trip. We got to hear about the break out attempts, about how families lived on the island, and got to see how the cells worked. It was THE COOLEST.</div><div> </div><div>The next picture may not be appropriate for all readers. I would like to say, however, that the, er, gentleman who sported this ink was a chaperone for a high school group. I thought it was pretty sly of me to get a picture unnoticed. I rock.<br /><div><div><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lc1P5ggZVYc/TYUdKleRBOI/AAAAAAAAAjo/fq-t4RjwhKU/s1600/DSCN1010.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585902980517922018" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lc1P5ggZVYc/TYUdKleRBOI/AAAAAAAAAjo/fq-t4RjwhKU/s400/DSCN1010.JPG" /></a>Right? What the heck is it?<br /><br />Golden Gate Park. Don't walk it, it's not really interesting (sorry GGP lovers). I'd go again only to see the museums I missed and the windmill (and tulip garden), but I'd take a bus. The walk is longer than you'd think. I took this picture while we were trying to find the Bison Paddock and to show the distance between my travel buddy and myself. She told me later that the park was a little too deserted for her taste and I think she was afraid someone was going to jump out at her. I was thinking it was pretty thoughtful (sarcasm) of her to put so much distance between us during what she had thought was an unfriendly area, she assured me that she looked back often to ensure I was okay. And it rained.</div><div> </div><div>Such a relief!<br /><div><div><div><div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3i6WTUyVbSg/TYUb4MowlkI/AAAAAAAAAjA/8fLiF1PPRR4/s1600/DSCN1044.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585901565101774402" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3i6WTUyVbSg/TYUb4MowlkI/AAAAAAAAAjA/8fLiF1PPRR4/s400/DSCN1044.JPG" /></a>At the Japanese Tea Gardens. $7 admission fee. That's all I've got.</div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585901554809350786" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T1l7u7SBJB8/TYUb3mS2qoI/AAAAAAAAAi4/MSmuyhPcZf0/s400/DSCN1038.JPG" /></div><div>Next stop, actually we went here first but order doesn't matter right?<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585901541535432226" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lL3Pz2SrIYY/TYUb202GviI/AAAAAAAAAig/VoXcP7kXGQg/s400/DSCN1032.JPG" />Never heard of it, right?</div><div> </div><div> </div><div>"Whatever happend to predictability..." We watched for Uncle Jesse for hours but maybe he was getting his hair gelled.<br /><div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-03FMw4hjwCM/TYUb3Tyz1cI/AAAAAAAAAiw/9WNXzviSwm8/s1600/DSCN1029.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585901549843109314" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-03FMw4hjwCM/TYUb3Tyz1cI/AAAAAAAAAiw/9WNXzviSwm8/s400/DSCN1029.JPG" /></a> Cool shoe garden.<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lCscsBBNiBI/TYUb3Jok1QI/AAAAAAAAAio/xmlJc26Ak0E/s1600/DSCN1026.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585901547115828482" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lCscsBBNiBI/TYUb3Jok1QI/AAAAAAAAAio/xmlJc26Ak0E/s400/DSCN1026.JPG" /></a>We also got to go to the Curran for a Broadway Show. We wore no jackets. One of us in flip flops the other in a pair of flimsy flats. It was raining. Totally worth it.<br /><div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H3iJYzXJuzQ/TYUaLUp2OsI/AAAAAAAAAiY/YEW3Dkfe1z0/s1600/ROA.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 326px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 96px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585899694648081090" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H3iJYzXJuzQ/TYUaLUp2OsI/AAAAAAAAAiY/YEW3Dkfe1z0/s400/ROA.gif" /></a> I LOVED this too! Love, love, love. And who was playing the lead? Constantine Maroulis of American Idol fame. I just wish I'd been a little lower.<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I6wCM553Z0w/TYUZoSt19NI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/HjRDNLBrG9E/s1600/Constantine-Maroulis-.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 90px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 135px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585899092832548050" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I6wCM553Z0w/TYUZoSt19NI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/HjRDNLBrG9E/s200/Constantine-Maroulis-.jpg" /></a> </div><br /><br /><br />Constantine<br /><-----------<br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br />Okay, that's pretty much all. Except for this place:</div><div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_EinKQ6maFA/TYUSET3vcHI/AAAAAAAAAiI/cNT48f7sch4/s1600/Boudin.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 123px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 97px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585890778085814386" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_EinKQ6maFA/TYUSET3vcHI/AAAAAAAAAiI/cNT48f7sch4/s320/Boudin.jpg" /></a>Go to San Francisco and eat there. Sooo good. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.</div><div> </div><div>See breakfast?<br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585889648718142114" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0bkMOxZYJEg/TYURCkpgWqI/AAAAAAAAAiA/1sNMHWrupdA/s320/DSCN1049.JPG" /> <div><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-14625534283052495202011-01-02T21:47:00.000-08:002011-01-02T22:12:52.891-08:00I have a question for youIt's that time, or rather a little past that time, when most do a little self reflection and set some goals. I think I do that on a daily basis, but around New Years I give more attention to this reflections, seeing how I start a new calendar year and also age. Last week I sat in Midas trying to read about Lord Voldemort speaking to the slimeball Wormtail about Bertha Jorkins' demise, when I overheard a suggestion on the news about how to create New Year's Resolutions: Ask your friends and family. The reason behind this to see if there are suggestions made numerous times and using those suggestions to create goals. If I hadn't been so irritated at the volume of the television, or obsessed about reading to get ahead with AR, I would have listened specifically for what to ask. Instead I am googling it and coming up with nothing, so I'm going to try to word this delicately and hope it comes close.<br /><br />What characteristics or traits do YOU feel I should develop or improve upon in 2011?<br /><br />***Disclaimer: I am the first to admit I'm imperfect and flawed. I also realize that I am asking some of you to step outside your comfort zone and say things you may not are polite to say. Consider this post a "Get Out Of Jail Free" card, if you make a suggestion, I promise to take it as intended.<br /><br />If you're up to the task, please comment. If you're not comfortable commenting, but would like to contribute, e-mail works too. Thanks in advance for your thoughts, and<br /><br />HaPpY NeW YeAr!!!<br /><br /><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-59903920773121425722010-10-16T14:16:00.001-07:002010-10-16T15:06:55.056-07:00That's Good, That's Bad<div align="left">I'm interrupting the house tour (that no on in particular is paying attention to) to share a little about my break. In an attempt at creativity and using effective transitions, I shall model this post about my October break after a children's book. Without further ado:<br /><u>That's Good, That's Bad </u><br />by me<br /><br />Parent-Teacher conferences were over and it seems the 1st quarter was over. </div><div align="left"><br />That's good. </div><div align="left"><br />No, that's bad. How in the world can a I end a quarter without being ready for it in the first place? Frightening. </div><div align="left"><br />First quarter ending means that I had to dip into personal funds for pizza and ice cream for the entire class. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">That's bad. </div><div align="left"><br />No, that's good. The 4th graders worked their tails off to please the me and meet some lofty goals and deserved a reward. </div><div align="left"><br />And so the children fled the school building on Friday, October 1 for two weeks of fall break. </div><div align="left"><br />That's good. </div><div align="left"><br />No, that's bad. Fall break means that I will be spending all my free time planning and planning and planning some more. </div><div align="left"><br />That's bad. </div><div align="left"><br />No, that's good. If I spend my entire break planning, maybe I will be sane for the majority of 2nd quarter. </div><div align="left"><br />A break from school means a break in routine. In order for me to not gain 15 pounds over break, I volunteered to sub a whole bunch of group fitness classes to keep myself active.</div><br /><div>That's good.</div><br /><div>No, that's bad. Midway through the week I rolled my ankle (the same one "broken" a couple of years ago) and that sucker puffed up.</div><br /><div>Luckily, I'm no wuss and I have all my wraps and ice packs from the last incident and it's looking alright. </div><br /><div>In addition to my group exercise madness I volunteered to go on a bike ride at <strong>4 a.m.</strong> on my October break, in the dark, with a bunch of peeps I don't know really well.</div><br /><div>That's bad.</div><br /><div>No, that's good. I have recently decided to try a few tri's (as in in triathlons) and a bike ride is good for my heart, and my rear.</div><br /><div>Everyone bailed except the organizer who happens to make my brain go to mush everytime he talks to me, let alone looks at me. Sigh.</div><br /><div>That's good.</div><br /><div>No, that's bad. Not only is the man over 10 years my senior, he also has a harem. You heard correctly. Trust me, it's never going to happen. </div><br /><div>I met up with a friend for dinner. We caught up and discussed how amazing my life is (ha!). I had just come from the gym so I looked pretty much like a wet cat. Eeeew.</div><br /><div>That's bad.</div><br /><div>No, that's good. Our server seriously got his flirt on. If someone is willing to flirt with you when you look like scum, imagine what they'll think when they see you in something other than spandex. Am I right or am I right?</div><br /><div>I gave him my phone number.</div><br /><div>That's good.</div><br /><div>No, that's bad. After a little facebook stalking (don't look like that, you know you do it, too) I find out that our server is just about 10 years my junior. Seriously. SERIOUSLY.</div><br /><div>Before I know it, it's October 15th and break is over. Have I planned? No. Have I read to help me reach an outrageous A.R. goal? No.</div><br /><div>That's bad.</div><br /><div>No, that's good. Turns out, I really think I needed the lazy time. I'll get myself organized the first week back and hopefully read like a, like a, well like a thing that reads really fast to meet my goal (or beg my students to let me lower it).</div><br /><div>During the course of my break, I was awoken by a phone call telling me that my sister was on her way to the hospital to have a baby. Yay baby Madden!!!</div><br /><div>That's good.</div><br /><div>No, that's great!</div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 229px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528767970469448770" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TLohLS1jjEI/AAAAAAAAAhs/wHnvkZZjZn8/s320/my+precious.jpg" /> <div> (see Madden? He's my fall break silver lining.)</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Okay, I'm not really creative, but all these things did happen. Embarassingly enough, every single one. My break was pretty chill, though the <em>Forbidden</em> experience will be hard to top in the future. Let me just say, girls truly just wanna have fun.<br /><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-21117908128629024142010-10-03T20:39:00.000-07:002010-10-03T21:17:36.337-07:00The throne roomsOkay, I'm not in love with the title, but you know what's coming, bathrooms. Here's the main bathroom, which I am officially turning over to Kelsi. Anyone who's familiar with my history with this bathroom will know what that means. I think.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TKlRm9xynxI/AAAAAAAAAhk/8cOGYfP09y4/s1600/DSCN0811.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524036147806904082" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TKlRm9xynxI/AAAAAAAAAhk/8cOGYfP09y4/s320/DSCN0811.JPG" /></a> Okay, I may help and put some things on the shelves, but other than that, I wash my hands of it. Really.<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TKlRmmWEtuI/AAAAAAAAAhc/W5JiD7AqJYY/s1600/DSCN0812.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524036141516633826" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TKlRmmWEtuI/AAAAAAAAAhc/W5JiD7AqJYY/s320/DSCN0812.JPG" /></a> I was going for girly and I think I succeeded. The pink isn't too strong, though not as subtle as I had intended. The rest of the decor will be non-pink.<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TKlRmRZ9AAI/AAAAAAAAAhU/h_No6sIK30M/s1600/DSCN0813.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524036135895760898" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TKlRmRZ9AAI/AAAAAAAAAhU/h_No6sIK30M/s320/DSCN0813.JPG" /></a> For some reason I felt like my bathroom was less deserving of decoration than the main bathroom. However, now that I'm giving the other one to Kelsi, I am thinking I may have to work on it a little more. In case you are wondering, the walls are not white, but "mystical sea" which is a pale green which compliments my boudoir nicely.<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TKlRESa6pzI/AAAAAAAAAhM/SBFNiDFmBWA/s1600/DSCN0814.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524035552052684594" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TKlRESa6pzI/AAAAAAAAAhM/SBFNiDFmBWA/s320/DSCN0814.JPG" /></a>This is a close-up of my daily affirmation. It's pretty much true. All the time. I give my permission for you to copy. (my mom wrote it, by-the-way, doesn't mean I don't feel the same)<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TKlRENZiy7I/AAAAAAAAAhE/GSBXVvQp9BQ/s1600/DSCN0815.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524035550704749490" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TKlRENZiy7I/AAAAAAAAAhE/GSBXVvQp9BQ/s320/DSCN0815.JPG" /></a> A very similar shower curtain as in the first bathroom, but white. I'm going for simplistic. At this point it is <span style="font-size:180%;">really</span> simple. However, until my sugar daddy Ryan Reynalds realizes his mistake marrying Scarlett, and starts to shower me with the gifts and money I am so deserving of, I suppose I'll add to it myself. Sporadically.<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TKlRD3iH9ZI/AAAAAAAAAg8/T-afTfS7HRg/s1600/DSCN0816.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524035544835159442" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TKlRD3iH9ZI/AAAAAAAAAg8/T-afTfS7HRg/s320/DSCN0816.JPG" /></a> That's it really. Now, any hints or ideas are absolutely welcome. Do NOT suggest an over-the-toilet standing cabinet. Other than that, what do you have?</div><div><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a></div><div>P.S. I still have not received the shams (see prior post). Don't be shy.</div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-35456221736809292472010-09-11T15:58:00.000-07:002010-09-11T16:15:08.541-07:00First things firstA tour of my beloved home...it's been 7 months and I've been busy. That said, we're going to take this slowly, one room at a time so you can behold all the loveliness. Here's my sanctuary, in all it's Scotland Road (paint color) glory: <div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515795194243541826" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TIwKgVaxa0I/AAAAAAAAAgM/HlYX38fRiSI/s320/DSCN0784.JPG" /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515795180382619650" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TIwKfhyEiAI/AAAAAAAAAgE/7cdbcTpYNiY/s320/DSCN0783.JPG" /></div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515795167930833458" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TIwKezZVWjI/AAAAAAAAAf8/9aAuwfEUzOg/s320/DSCN0782.JPG" /></div><div><br /></div><div>"Katie, it's beautiful! But a couple of things are obviously missing, no?" says awestruck blog post reader.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Why yes, yes there is a glaringly obvious item or two missing," says Katie.</div><div> </div><div align="center">Sundra Blossom Collecion Euro Sham x2 (plus the pillows)</div><div align="center">from Anthropology</div><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 157px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 196px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515796883846817042" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/TIwMCrrlZRI/AAAAAAAAAgU/umpqCRWQ0Bk/s320/sham.jpg" />Who wants to get me a housewarming gift? </div><div> </div><div>And if you're feeling generous, a dresser, armoire, and a couple of night stands would be an excellent addition, too.</div><div> </div><div>Just sayin'.</div><div> </div><div>Tomorrow (or the next day): the bathrooms!</div><div><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-9574646483738977342010-02-16T20:26:00.000-08:002010-02-16T20:32:52.118-08:00Gimme your Box Tops!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S3twAHIwDhI/AAAAAAAAAfk/FAdHqZ6tq4g/s1600-h/boxtops.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 142px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439064122198068754" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S3twAHIwDhI/AAAAAAAAAfk/FAdHqZ6tq4g/s320/boxtops.jpg" /></a> I know that we have had this conversation. I <em>know</em> we have. I remember telling you all just what products you can cut these bad boys off of and save for my loveable, well-deserving classroom. It's time to send those collections to me (I'm aware that there are only 2 of you; shame, shame on the other 5 readers of my blog. Audrey, you get a free pass because you are collecting Box Tops yourself) If you have any, and I mean ANY, just let me know where to send the self-addressed envelope.<br /><br />As of right now, my class is in 1st place. But, I know (for a fact because I am snoopy) that there is at least one teacher who is holding out. When I say holding out, I mean she has an entire box full. We're talking over 1,000. And I know that she, I mean they, are just waiting for February 25th (which is the deadline) to roll around so she, I mean they, can blindside me.<br /><br />Help us out! Where should I send the envelope? Remember, deadline is <strong><u>February 25th</u></strong>, so I need them before then. My kindergarteners thank you.<br /><br /><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-81510421869096461782010-01-26T20:44:00.000-08:002010-01-26T20:56:35.424-08:00Framing begins next week...I can't even believe it! I thought it was high time that I stop mooching off my family (I SO do not mooch, just using the expression) and move into something that is bigger than a 10x10 square (it's IMPOSSIBLY HARD to cram 28 years of priceless mementos inot a room that size and still have a bed to sleep in). Isn't that exciting? Let me paint you a picture...<a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"> </a><br />I'm the one on the far left. Minus the pretty foliage and mountains, the long driveway, and pretty flowers in the window. I'm also pretty sure that's not what the color will be, but a girl can dream.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_FZ3zEhfI/AAAAAAAAAfc/pr-FvFs8ibA/s1600-h/home.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431276723897665010" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_FZ3zEhfI/AAAAAAAAAfc/pr-FvFs8ibA/s320/home.jpg" /></a> My front door. More or less:<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_FMgKZtjI/AAAAAAAAAfU/zDdbDJxSrcY/s1600-h/DSCN0224.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431276494214772274" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_FMgKZtjI/AAAAAAAAAfU/zDdbDJxSrcY/s320/DSCN0224.JPG" /></a> You just walked in and no, those mirrors won't be there:<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_FMCIxlfI/AAAAAAAAAfM/LbC_mej1cfI/s1600-h/DSCN0207.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431276486154884594" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_FMCIxlfI/AAAAAAAAAfM/LbC_mej1cfI/s320/DSCN0207.JPG" /></a> You turned around at the top of the stairs to see the trio of doors (my doors will be two-paneled by-the-way). The left is the garage, straight ahead is a closet, and the right is the exit:<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_FLhjkerI/AAAAAAAAAfE/w0qVU8gc9Ko/s1600-h/DSCN0208.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431276477408901810" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_FLhjkerI/AAAAAAAAAfE/w0qVU8gc9Ko/s320/DSCN0208.JPG" /></a> You're so excited to see the rest as you catch a glimpse coming upstairs:<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_FK_SYtDI/AAAAAAAAAe8/G4DX09X8QN8/s1600-h/DSCN0209.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431276468210021426" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_FK_SYtDI/AAAAAAAAAe8/G4DX09X8QN8/s320/DSCN0209.JPG" /></a> I had to throw this in somewhere. These are my door "knobs" though they aren't knobs:<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_FKlWFBaI/AAAAAAAAAe0/z6XmDy4HVf8/s1600-h/DSCN0225.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431276461246186914" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_FKlWFBaI/AAAAAAAAAe0/z6XmDy4HVf8/s320/DSCN0225.JPG" /></a> Prepare for house overload. These posts took FOREVER. Believe me, this model is not what I have envisioned for my sanctuary, but it's a start. If you're lucky you'll be invited to a house warming par-tay. And I mean PAR-TAY.<br /><div><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-50369700292477793692010-01-26T20:36:00.000-08:002010-01-26T20:44:01.696-08:00Laundry and kitchenThe laundry closet ('cuz this ain't a room):<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_DrYlViqI/AAAAAAAAAes/gF26nXpBn84/s1600-h/DSCN0216.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431274825732950690" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_DrYlViqI/AAAAAAAAAes/gF26nXpBn84/s320/DSCN0216.JPG" /></a> The kitchen after you've walked upstairs:<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_Dq-uknOI/AAAAAAAAAek/kDp9pbJqF1k/s1600-h/DSCN0210.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431274818792365282" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_Dq-uknOI/AAAAAAAAAek/kDp9pbJqF1k/s320/DSCN0210.JPG" /></a> The kitchen, from the hallway:<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_DqibUVGI/AAAAAAAAAec/aqw_TcZ_1pA/s1600-h/DSCN0231.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431274811195413602" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_DqibUVGI/AAAAAAAAAec/aqw_TcZ_1pA/s320/DSCN0231.JPG" /></a> The kitchen from the refrigerator's point of view:<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_DqAou3BI/AAAAAAAAAeU/Idlz6Xqhark/s1600-h/DSCN0212.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431274802124872722" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_DqAou3BI/AAAAAAAAAeU/Idlz6Xqhark/s320/DSCN0212.JPG" /></a> Uh huh, the kitchen from the dining room:<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_DpmkR8NI/AAAAAAAAAeM/cGDGQjzsjC4/s1600-h/DSCN0215.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431274795126878418" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_DpmkR8NI/AAAAAAAAAeM/cGDGQjzsjC4/s320/DSCN0215.JPG" /></a> Scrap all the basic junk in the kitchen to get a better idea of what mine should look like. Picture 42" upper cabinets with crown, darker wood, darker counter top, black appliances, microwave over the range, and a better colored wall. Okay, a different colored wall.<br /><div><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-70504738150514716352010-01-26T20:28:00.000-08:002010-01-26T20:36:50.958-08:00Living and dining roomsView of the living room from kitchen:<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_CTeLJsHI/AAAAAAAAAeE/3JIuYKMT_bY/s1600-h/DSCN0211.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431273315405246578" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_CTeLJsHI/AAAAAAAAAeE/3JIuYKMT_bY/s320/DSCN0211.JPG" /></a> Now imagine that half wall you just saw transforming into a cute white railing like this:<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_CS0QZQvI/AAAAAAAAAd8/r3E_rwdjrZQ/s1600-h/DSCN0226.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431273304152949490" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_CS0QZQvI/AAAAAAAAAd8/r3E_rwdjrZQ/s320/DSCN0226.JPG" /></a> Dining area, nope, I didn't invest in that lovely light: <div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_CSUitnCI/AAAAAAAAAd0/0OD31_aLor8/s1600-h/DSCN0214.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431273295639845922" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_CSUitnCI/AAAAAAAAAd0/0OD31_aLor8/s320/DSCN0214.JPG" /></a> Sadly, I have more carpet than tile, but here's another view of both rooms from the hall:<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_CR-WsZYI/AAAAAAAAAds/HoLJbUqFoyI/s1600-h/DSCN0213.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431273289683854722" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_CR-WsZYI/AAAAAAAAAds/HoLJbUqFoyI/s320/DSCN0213.JPG" /></a> Picture different decor. I don't know about this model...<br /><div><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-63705659461226025732010-01-26T20:16:00.000-08:002010-01-26T20:28:41.009-08:00Bathroom and roomie roomThe bathroom:<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_AhHmzhaI/AAAAAAAAAdk/VgRb1aaeGv0/s1600-h/DSCN0217.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431271350842131874" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_AhHmzhaI/AAAAAAAAAdk/VgRb1aaeGv0/s320/DSCN0217.JPG" /></a> With this faucet:<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_Aghm7H0I/AAAAAAAAAdc/ha0X_O1QqI0/s1600-h/DSCN0228.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431271340642082626" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_Aghm7H0I/AAAAAAAAAdc/ha0X_O1QqI0/s320/DSCN0228.JPG" /></a> And this light fixture:<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_AgY0wYLI/AAAAAAAAAdU/kAQX3YS6RL0/s1600-h/DSCN0229.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431271338284179634" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_AgY0wYLI/AAAAAAAAAdU/kAQX3YS6RL0/s320/DSCN0229.JPG" /></a> A lucky roomie's room:<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_Af4SrwWI/AAAAAAAAAdM/qglodrZfrGs/s1600-h/DSCN0218.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431271329551335778" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_Af4SrwWI/AAAAAAAAAdM/qglodrZfrGs/s320/DSCN0218.JPG" /></a> Another view:<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_AfdAosPI/AAAAAAAAAdE/OE-QKFHYhIU/s1600-h/DSCN0219.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431271322227880178" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1_AfdAosPI/AAAAAAAAAdE/OE-QKFHYhIU/s320/DSCN0219.JPG" /></a> I will just say no to these colors.<br /><div><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-66702689735201086872010-01-26T20:12:00.000-08:002010-01-26T20:16:48.213-08:00Master bathroomIgnore the color, see this space:<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-9zCFQJfI/AAAAAAAAAc8/n90ZnnOyXsA/s1600-h/DSCN0223.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431268360061986290" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-9zCFQJfI/AAAAAAAAAc8/n90ZnnOyXsA/s320/DSCN0223.JPG" /></a> With a double sink using these faucets:<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-9yk6-Y6I/AAAAAAAAAc0/9zeWTV6pwQw/s1600-h/DSCN0228.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431268352234251170" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-9yk6-Y6I/AAAAAAAAAc0/9zeWTV6pwQw/s320/DSCN0228.JPG" /></a> These lighting fixtures:<br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-9xj63DCI/AAAAAAAAAcs/mtZLPosyRN8/s1600-h/DSCN0229.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431268334785465378" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-9xj63DCI/AAAAAAAAAcs/mtZLPosyRN8/s320/DSCN0229.JPG" /></a> This "garden tub" (apparently a must):<br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-9xeYlPRI/AAAAAAAAAck/PS8wuTqSlVU/s1600-h/DSCN0227.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431268333299514642" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-9xeYlPRI/AAAAAAAAAck/PS8wuTqSlVU/s320/DSCN0227.JPG" /></a> Ignore the colors. Not me.<br /><div><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-25387975483489734752010-01-26T20:07:00.001-08:002010-01-26T20:11:54.709-08:00Master bedroomA walk-in closet (even if you just stand inside the door):<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-8mQ4HgSI/AAAAAAAAAcc/XkfMjn1ZWVg/s1600-h/DSCN0230.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431267041183498530" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-8mQ4HgSI/AAAAAAAAAcc/XkfMjn1ZWVg/s320/DSCN0230.JPG" /></a> MY master bedroom:<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-8mO_0izI/AAAAAAAAAcU/mQGbInwaAsU/s1600-h/DSCN0222.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431267040678939442" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-8mO_0izI/AAAAAAAAAcU/mQGbInwaAsU/s320/DSCN0222.JPG" /></a> Yep, still MY master bedroom:<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-8ls-FrBI/AAAAAAAAAcM/4Vg_0NEORdM/s1600-h/DSCN0221.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431267031544867858" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-8ls-FrBI/AAAAAAAAAcM/4Vg_0NEORdM/s320/DSCN0221.JPG" /></a> You guessed it, MY master bedroom again:<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-8lKsDSNI/AAAAAAAAAcE/t1OQ-1mjfoU/s1600-h/DSCN0220.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431267022342408402" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/S1-8lKsDSNI/AAAAAAAAAcE/t1OQ-1mjfoU/s320/DSCN0220.JPG" /></a> Of course I can decorate better than this. These colors and this style is not me at all.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-26100022413302894502010-01-10T08:21:00.000-08:002010-01-10T08:41:09.434-08:002010Time to stop messing around. I've been pondering over New Year's Resolutions for over a week, the pondering turned into post-its, and now the post-its are a blog. Let me first say, I really sucked it up last year. The only resolution I really kept was to be "fiscally fit." I paid off enough and saved enough and came up with a plan and in the next 3-4 months I will get to have a house. Uh huh, a whole house that is mine. :) Be jealous.<br /><br />On to 2010's goals, please note you do not have to read them, but I do need to write them down.<br /><br />*1* Get smarter. I'm thinking this can be anything from reading less romance novel to taking a cooking class to sewing more.<br /><br />*2* Write. I need to be better at documenting my life. Journal entries and/or blog posts. How will I ever learn from my mistakes if I don't write them down?<br /><br />*3* Stay fiscally fit.<br /><br />*4* Time management. I'm terrible at this. I do a lot of sitting and then rush to get things finished. OR I start something and move to something else before the first thing is finished and before you know it I've started 5 things, none of which get finished.<br /><br />*5* "Network." This has been a goal for the last 2 years but I think that my friends and I have come up with a really good plan to keep up with this.<br /><br />*6* Weight somethingorother. Food is for energy, not to make me happy and I don't need to eat 5 times a day particularly if I'm not hungry (not that I do that). I've been grocery shopping and we're gonna get really good at the eating this year.<br /><br />*7* Vary my activity. I teach Group Active and Body Step, time to get some variety, a little more cross training. I've got a 10k on Valentine's Day.<br /><br />*8* Spirituality. Time to read more, pray more, ponder more.<br /><br />*9* Be honest at all costs. No more beating around the bush in an attempt to be nice. Just say it.<br /><br />*10* Pretend this is a goal. I hate odd numbers. :)<br /><br />See how well-rounded my goals are? Here's to success in 2010! Woo!<br /> <a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-4787012861398410272009-12-06T07:47:00.000-08:002009-12-06T08:04:11.138-08:00A weak 100th postHow is it that when I have something to blog I choose not to blog and when I do not have anything to blog I decide to post? So maybe this will be a bunch of snippets, updates about what is going on in my world (please stop begging now).<br /><br />**This year is hard. It's only my 4th year and now I see why people get burned out in this profession. I have experienced things that I never thought I would have to and it's been a repeated slap in the face. Just 101 more days...<br />**My hair frustrates me. I need to sit my sister down sometime soon for a hacking and just can't mesh the schedules. So I dyed it.<br />**There is no hole yet.<br />**I am a football addict. I never saw it coming, it just did. Shocking.<br />**It is 39 degrees outside and I have no winter clothes.<br />**It is Sunday and I have no church clothes.<br />**Two dates in two weeks, also shocking.<br />**My skin is pasty white. I am in desperate need of a tan, which leads me to...<br />**Where should I lay on the beach this year? Suggestions?<br /><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-6543119334908995182009-11-11T09:29:00.000-08:002009-11-11T09:40:10.777-08:00Just a little irritatedAt some point I'm going to get over the smash & grab that occured 2 weeks ago, but probably not until I stop realizing things that have been taken. I think when I first called the police I totaled the value of what was taken at around $300, that was before I realized my Bodybugg, ipod, Fossil watch, day planner, and my newest find: a gift certificate for a pedicure that I was saving for Thanksgiving weekend. Just a little irritated. I know I should be grateful for my wallet and credit cards and phone and camera and checks and cabinet/countertop samples and Coachies that were in the bag that was with me inside the gym, but I can't seem to be satisfied with that. Grrrr!<br /><br />On another note, said teacher mentioned in the prior post has appeased his/her principal by hosting a meeting with upset parent<strong><em>s</em></strong> which turned out to be pointless. Parents did not acknowledge claims made to the principal, nor did they give opportunity for the said teacher to confront them about those rude claims. Said teacher is done with it all.<br /><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-40625533726628098992009-11-01T18:30:00.000-08:002009-11-01T19:15:17.607-08:00Hypothetically speaking...Here's a scenario:<br /><br />An experienced teacher receives word of one of his/her parents is meeting with their principal about some emotional issues their student has been experiencing at school. Said parent expresses to the principal that they do not like how their child's teacher handled a situation that occured earlier in the year (for argument's sake we'll say this instance happened 10 weeks prior to said meeting). This parent states that they do not believe that their child's teacher has an investment their child's well-being and that this teacher does not care for their child. Also, the parent believes that the teacher does not like them as s/he does not acknowledge their presence on the playground or cafeteria.<br /><br /><em>*small side note: Rumor has it that parent-teacher conferences were held 4 weeks prior to this meeting and this parent did not mention this belief to the teacher, nor did they discuss with the teacher that they were unhappy with other "events" that had happened earlier in the year. Rumor also has it, that the teacher did express his/her concerns over this particular child's well-being and made suggestions (and followed through with them) that could possibly help this child. At that meeting, the parent agreed that those suggestions would be a good idea.</em><br /><br />While the teacher meets with the principal about this meeting, it is mentioned that it is the teacher's job to soothe the parent's hurt feelings and repair this broken relationship between parent and teacher. Afterwards, this teacher is off to pick up their class, see this parent and this child, and conduct business as usual.<br /><br />After an evening of contemplation, the teacher I am referencing decides to meet again with the principal about this parent and this situation. Their prior discussion led this teacher to believe that s/he had made a mistake with this student/parent/situation and it was their responsibility to fix it. Surely, the emotionally-stretched teacher had misunderstood. S/he has never been accused of mistreating a student and this new accusation weighed heavily on his/her mind. In the second meeting, principal attempts to give the teacher some peace of mind, tells him/her that this parent said that they have heard many good things about the teacher. (Yes, heard, not experienced) The teacher was then told that it was not his/her fault, however it is still their responsibility to fix it. Just like the day before, the teacher must now go pick up their class, see this parent and this child, and conduct business as usual.<br /><br />Or not. As the teacher enters the playground, this particular student is crying in addition to another student who is physically adamant that they are not leaving mom and is also crying. Please note, this is not the first time this situation has happened in this particular class. Somehow the teacher is able to gently pull the physically upset child into the classroom along with the emotionally upset child and the other 20+ students. It isn't known how, but this teacher somehow makes it through the day without an emotional melt down. Perhaps it was the promise of the weekend so close that provided the extra strength.<br /><br />Ah, the weekend. In case you didn't know, weekends officially start at the end of the school day for those in the teaching profession and this teacher was in dire need of this weekend.<br /><br />Unfortunately for this teacher there was one more obstacle to be overcome. Fulfilling a promise to a friend, this person went to the gym. "Good for them!" you say, "let out some of that pent up emotion!" Normally I would agree, however at the end of the workout this person walks to their car to find a smashed window. Nowhere to be seen was their ipod, sun glasses, bag of clothes, teacher bag (yes, all teachers take bags of things to do home), and their beloved Dave CD's.<br /><br />Too much. It was too much. The emotional meltdown could no longer wait. So there, in the gym parking lot a good cry was had. (Yes, a police report was filed)<br /><br />The conclusion: Can you blame the "hypothetical" teacher who has had these "hypothetical" experiences for not wanting to go to school tomorrow?<br /><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-31076674421627701442009-10-18T21:31:00.000-07:002009-10-18T21:35:44.371-07:00A total bustThe "Sing-a-long Saturday" thing that is. Seriously, one person comments and it wasn't even the person the post was directed to. How sad is that? Much love to Jenny for reminding me that people do read my blog, I truly love yur guts. As for the rest of you, sorry I inflicted my favorite Live song upon you. Needless to say, it's going to be a long while before you see another sing-a-long, if ever again. I can take a hint...<br /><br />In other news, I'm thinking I may try to write a post soon. I'm not making any promises, but I feel as though the creativity in my brain is about to bubble over.<br /><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-57133642446518120402009-09-26T12:36:00.000-07:002009-09-26T14:26:19.842-07:00Katie's Sing-a-long SaturdayI've seen the "Monday Madness" posts and "Flashback Friday" posts and all the other special alliteration posts associated with the days of the week and I've joined the ranks. Nothing really special, but I'm sharing one of my favorite songs because I do just love it and felt like sharing. I don't know how regular this kind of post will be, but when I share a song I'll likely rattle of a story and why I like it<br /><br />This one goes out to my cuz Holly.<br /><br />The story:<br />12 or 13 years ago my sisters and I went with my mom to visit some family. Just a random night, nothing special about it to my knowledge, just a visit. Maybe dinner? Anyways, Holly is going to run to the store and I, being desperate to spark a friendship with just one of many uber-cool cousins, volunteer to go with her. I want to say it was the suburban? Must have been pre-Rabbit, I loved her Rabbit (Holly, it was you with the Rabbit, right?), but that's not where I'm going with the story. This song, today's sing-a-long song, is playing. I remember it being really loud and that she played it over and over on the way to the store and back. It was an instant favorite of mine. Did I ask her what the song was called? No, that would have made sense. Instead, I went to Circuit City (back when they were open and let you open CD's to listen to them <em>before</em> you bought them) to find the CD with this song. I was having a rough go of it. Finally I went up to the girl working there to get some help. How did I get this help? I had to sing it for her. Bless my amazing abilities to sing, she knew just what it was.<br />Why this song sticks out as one of my favorites? Uber-cool cousin Holly liked it and I the story of how I came to find it.<br />It's been years, but I <strong><em>still</em></strong> love this song and crank the volume (because that's how it's best heard) and when it randomly pops up on my ipod, I listen to it twice.<br />Without further ado, crank the volume and press play!<br /><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" /></a><br />Comment, who else loves it?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-72739003266015261752009-08-23T21:45:00.000-07:002009-08-24T01:02:22.998-07:00Ready, set, cut!Every year at this time I get to feeling disappointed in my hair. Usually I bust out the scissors promptly after school pictures (seriously, 3 years now), but I think I need it cut before pictures this year. I desperately <em>want</em> long hair, but I know in my heart of hearts that I don't look amazing with long hair. :( We're going to take a mini-poll of all 3 readers of my blog. Do I cut it? Something like this I think (it's not so different from my usual cut):<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373388161311076434" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/SpIcEDM8cFI/AAAAAAAAAZE/nbpuTq3naBA/s320/kimhair1.jpg" /> Or endure the awkward stage I'm at and cut after September 9th? You have...a week. Help.<br /><br />*Thanks to Katie A. for the picture.<br /><a href="http://s1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/?action=view&current=Picture1.png" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 156px; HEIGHT: 46px" border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i1000.photobucket.com/albums/af122/rigby_k/Signature/Picture1.png" width="173" height="86" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-58480660132357920562009-08-08T21:25:00.000-07:002009-08-08T21:29:10.752-07:00One more thingI didn't go to the casting call on Thursday. Basically I am a giant chicken and didn't want to go by myself. Sadly, the friend who <em>would </em>have gone with me was unavailable (you're supposed to read into that that there were friends who adamantly <em>refused</em> to go).<br />I'm going to have to think of another way to introduce myself to those bachelors...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-67984923043357917642009-08-08T20:51:00.000-07:002009-08-08T21:25:12.416-07:00The silver liningIt's been a long two weeks. The training is hard. I have to teach procedures and rules. There are lines to straighten, pencil grips to fix, and oh, the paper snow from crazy cutting. My newbies are definitely coming along though. The tears were officially gone Friday. No one tried to make an escape from the cage, no one begged me to stay for lunch, and no one told me they missed their mom. Things are looking up, but it's been a LONG two weeks and I am missing my voice to prove it. But let me tell you why it's taking a toll:<br />*NO aides<br />*NO recesses (inside does <em><u>not</u></em> count)<br />but most importantly...<br />*NO Emily, Ishani, Ava, Molly, Mark, Jack, Brock, Payton, Ryan, Sophie, Tyler, Shane, Talmage, Keely, Cassidy, Mia, Colby, Bella, Kendall, Rebekah, Austen, Nicholas, Malia, Jakey, or Bryan.<br />Yes, I miss my last year's kiddos. :( It's the saddest thing to see them in the hall and know that they are having such a great time in 1st grade, to know that they are AmAzInG and that they are not being appreciated by their new teachers (come on, no one knows all the work we put in in kindergarten).<br />Mostly I'm getting over it, adjusting, but Friday I had a brief conversation with one of MY 1st graders that brought a tear to my eye. As I was taking my kids to P.E. I see a line of 1st graders and of course I had to say hi. One of mine was the line leader and as she gives me a hug she told me that she had a dream about me. I asked her if it was a good dream or a bad dream and she said it was her <em>first</em> good dream <em>because</em> I was in it.<br />Seriously, I was verkelmpt, choked with emotion. It made my day and destroyed it all at the same time.<br />I'm sure she meant it was good because I was in it (naturally ;) and it was the first dream that she'd ever had with me in it, but I'm going to ignore that because I am happy to believe that it was the best dream she's ever had because of me.<br /><br />Don't burst my bubble.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3753964757452068145.post-90375606148691706132009-08-02T17:17:00.001-07:002009-08-02T17:35:19.719-07:00Calling all eligible ladies...For those of you wondering, the first week of school was just fine. I'm going hoarse, again, which is lame, but things could be worse. I believe it will be a pretty good year. :) For those of you who didn't know, yes, we went back to school last week. :) I LOVE Chandler! (Bing and the school district) <div><div><br /><div></div><div>That's not what this post is about. Perhaps you were able to watch the last season of 'The Bachelorette' and your eyes were blessed to behold the jaw-dropping cast-offs of Jillian. Honestly, I'm glad she got rid of 'em all. I think Ed is great for her. I also think that these fellas could be great for me:</div></div><div> </div><div>Jake- </div><p align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 147px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 90px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365527452145458962" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/SnYuyjm8nxI/AAAAAAAAAYk/UERvZCiirww/s320/images.jpg" /></p><div>Kiptyn-</div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 147px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 91px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365527451653981378" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/SnYuyhxxRMI/AAAAAAAAAYs/1kbNJIMrPWY/s320/kiptyn-locke-pic_489x275.jpg" /></div><div>Reid-</div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 142px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 89px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365527459486072290" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LipQZ3DNvSA/SnYuy-9FfeI/AAAAAAAAAY0/qoAlOU4gdBg/s320/reid_rosenthal-0461.jpg" /></div><div>It turns out that one of these drop dead gorgeous men could be next season's Bachelor. And wouldn't cha know that there is a casting call for interested bachelorettes on Thursday in my city! What do you think? Should I go for it? We all know how lucky any of these men would be to get the chance to take me out. I'm sure that my kinders and their parents would understand and that the district would hold my job. I'm dusting off my glamour shot now.</div><div> </div><div>Do I dare?</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9