tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32491559657512093022024-02-19T07:18:19.417-08:00The C & B ChroniclesHow to not murder your med student husbandCap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.comBlogger100125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-74934145551281346492014-11-03T11:59:00.000-08:002014-11-03T11:59:11.786-08:00What my 7 year old niece taught meAs I'm sure you know(being that I continuously write about it, sing about it, shout it through the roof tops, and spend most days in a deep mind trance drooling over the mere thought of it) I'm a fan of home. And no, I don't mean Charleston. <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Charleston can eff off. </span></i> I'm a fan of the<i> true</i> South. The <i>it's so humid I look like I just bathed in the bayou or stumbled upon a mysterious shower located seconds outside </i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u><b>(insert frequented jive spot here)</b></u></span><i> </i>south. I gush over Louisiana so much so that some would think I actually have stock in Jindal and his efforts to <strike>ruin</strike> rule the world, but trust me… I'm too southern to understand stocks. I've been visiting home a lot lately. Mostly because it's the only way my family can get me to shut up, but also because everyone I love is there and I've been quite the love snob lately.<br />
<br />
I was able to spend a large part of my time with my niece during this past trip home, and as if I didn't already know, she once again proved to be a pure genius with true Maya Angelou strength and enough girl power to make you question starting up a real life Power Puff gang. She has grit I can only dream of, confidence I'm just down right envious of, and a heart so full of love and pain that she'll make you want to wrap up in a big blanket and devote the rest of your life to cuddling and baking cookies. I'm telling you - the girl is my hero. Sometimes, with all of the madness of being a part of a crazy, loud southern family, I forget that she's seven. I forget that she still needs me. But that's mainly because most of the time I'm the one who needs her. <br />
<br />
We had a mini road trip to my grandmother's, and here are a few things she taught me that I think ever <strike>girl</strike> human should know…<br />
<br />
1. When life hands you lemons, which it often does, cry about it. For real. Let that shit out. Then, get some ice cream, put on some big girl panties and turn up Taylor Swift as loud as you can.<br />
<br />
2. If your pants are too tight, get a bigger size pant - not a smaller cookie. <br />
<br />
3. Swimming, diving, cannonballs, toothpicks, spank-the-babies, and sliding down the pool slide are all best done naked.<br />
<br />
4. "I don't like boys. Unless they're cute."<br />
<br />
5. What ice cream can't fix - dancing can.<br />
<br />
6. A big butt is a good thing. "Cap, I can always find you because of your big butt!"<br />
<br />
There ya go, friends! Knowledge only a feisty little seven year old can provide. <br />
<br />
Now, SHAKE IT OFF! Or whatever else your gorgeous heart desires. <br />
<br />
-Cap<br />
<br />Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-77203045416613519432014-06-09T09:47:00.001-07:002014-06-10T00:30:38.955-07:00A Love Letter to Elton<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dearest Elton,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I realize you receive fan mail from star struck individuals
boasting of your talent and complementing you on your lively use of velvet
attire and that dangling cross earring you sometimes wear in your right ear,
but this – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this</i> is different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is to confess a love that far
surpasses that sappy, boy band keenness those other yanks think they feel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Allow me to elaborate… When asked a
cheesy life question pertaining to whom you’d choose to dine, chat or meet with
if given the opportunity, I forgo the typically stockpile Gandhi, Jesus, or
lost friend answers and choose <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because, quite honestly – aren’t you
all of the above? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a young child, I heard my mother play all of your albums
in her gold Cutlass Ciera, or the “Cut Dog” as we coined it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched as her mood gradually shifted
from frustrated, single mother of three to a woman singing “Your Song” with
uncharted ambition, desire and a full heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be fair, we all felt the magic, but I suppose you are
well aware of the powerful, strongholds your music has on one’s emotions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Personally, as a young, twenties something
with no notable music background, I think that’s what you do best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You play for people who “keep it turned
on”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You play to inspire, to create
connections, and I hope to reflect your own personality - because that’s what
I’ve come to believe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Diana
died, I thought I knew her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because I thought I knew you, and “Candle in the Wind” contributed more
tears than the divorce of my parents, or the accidental burning of my Barney
pillow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your music allowed me to
feel a connection to a world I knew little about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It continually challenged me to play piano sheet music that
clearly surpassed my mediocre skills, forced me to belt out “Levon” – though I
didn’t know the full meaning of longing and desperation present in the lyrics,
and proved to be the root of a lifelong mockery as I once mistook the chorus to
Tiny Dancer for “hold me close I’m trying to dance here”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be it intentional or an accidental
correlation, you consistently proved to be there through the challenging moments
of a young life in transition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s love, friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A love
I still have found no match to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was, in honesty, a brief moment when I took into great
consideration your preferred gender.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, that instant quickly faded as my deep, unrequited love rushed
to barricade all rationality and typicality from entering into the dark corners
of my small brain function.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was,
and remain, a young girl in love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So, despite those other guys and gals in line, I like to think you’d
choose me in the long run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or, at
the very least, maybe pencil me into that little black book of lovers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s going to happen - if only for one
night. <br />
<br />
Civic Center. Charleston, West Virginia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wednesday night. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be there with your red shoes on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
Cap<br />
xx</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-85513619542483127142014-02-09T08:15:00.001-08:002014-02-09T08:15:01.520-08:00Creative WritingThere are many crazy things I do to fill my free time, but writing about home is my favorite. Hope you all get a little taste of cajun love from this short story... :)<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-Cap<br /><div>
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6X30T75auxhvsaBwGtP7GIpBnnG-P83O2RzOz67-KSqhJzQxkOIUvJVh46a48KiCwgz3ihFl8ARDTb9129T00DN7rkEebpZiPs7RJtNOt5W_cKiivX3Di2JWruPzJ_wRKnAZiz2MUv5rI/s1600/cotton+fields.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6X30T75auxhvsaBwGtP7GIpBnnG-P83O2RzOz67-KSqhJzQxkOIUvJVh46a48KiCwgz3ihFl8ARDTb9129T00DN7rkEebpZiPs7RJtNOt5W_cKiivX3Di2JWruPzJ_wRKnAZiz2MUv5rI/s1600/cotton+fields.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<!--StartFragment-->
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
Hot Air</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mamaw and Bijou
set off to discover the bluff behind the fields.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cotton was taller that Sunday, and the air was heavy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trapped moisture seemed to combat
the gusts from a warm breeze - creating a harmonious hum through the uniformed
rows. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither Mamaw nor Bijou knew
the specifics to the farm’s depth, and they had little confidence in its stability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was Papaw’s thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He kept the farm intact while the rest
of the world sat back and wondered where cotton balls came from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You find that
balloon?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, I have it.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You packed dat
string?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, Mamaw.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You sure you
packed dat string?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dat’s the most
important part.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, Papaw cut
the string.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What a pauvre
bête.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Mamaw!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“But I love him
all the same.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Why do you need a
balloon?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“We need it,
Bijou.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You gonna see when you’re
meant to.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Bijou carefully
walked through the rows, while Mamaw barreled through with an obvious intent to
escape the grid.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Watch your step,
Mamaw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s the new row!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh sha!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If those seeds can’t handle a lil’
pressure now, dey sure gonna die when dey sprout.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, there’s no
need to make it harder for them, or Papaw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know he gets pissy if the rows aren’t even.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Co faire?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“He says it takes
away from the natural beauty.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Natural?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mais, jamiais d’la vie! Dis ain’t natural.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He planted it!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Papaw says he
just plants what the good lord intended.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Go to bed! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He don’t know nothing!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Bijou walked
further into the fields.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was
not much for exploration, but the rows of cotton created an easy path for her limited
hiking skills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mamaw continued
forming her own row, bewildering Bijou to her core.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bijou hollered through the sticky air, “Mamaw, do you ever
wonder if the cotton would grow better in another pattern?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I wonder that all
the time.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Why doesn’t Papaw
ever try it?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“He sticks to what
he knows, sha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just like a pauvre
bête.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His daddy thought him about
farming cotton rows, and he don’t like the idea of backsliding from dat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ya know, Bijou, it’s fine letting your
elders show you the ropes, but sometimes you gotta make your own knot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never been one for cotton rows.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Maybe they need the
close formation for survival, Mamaw. Do you think that helps them grow taller?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Nah, sha.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s nothing about dat.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“But Papaw says
they’re a congregation.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, now!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just because a measly little sprig of
cotton stands amongst a row of sprigs doesn’t mean that cotton is any stronger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just has a better hiding place.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“But I think they
need each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t you?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“No, Bijou.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dey gotta make their own roots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dat’s the only way to really
survive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dat’s why Papaw sticks
with the rows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He got his roots tangled
up with his daddy’s, and now he’s too afraid that ole’ man was right.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What if he was?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Den I guess Papaw
will be happy.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“And what if he
was wrong?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Den Papaw won’t
know a difference.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“But Papaw said
the rows were sacred.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said
cotton was a Eunice family tradition.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, dat’s what Papaw
believes.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“What do you
believe?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mamaw didn’t
answer Bijou.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead she started
chanting her favorite Doris Day tune, “Que Sera, Sera… whatever will be, will
be…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Bijou was lost in
the cotton field motif – not listening to Mamaw’s casual reasoning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mamaw mumbled to herself, “She gonna
hear it when she needs to.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then,
she bellowed, “Bijou, we’re almost there! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Come over to da bluff!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The vibrations from her voice shook the fragile cotton pods that sat
flimsily on top of the tall stalks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bijou followed Mamaw’s robust path across the cotton rows.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“I know Papaw
talks a lot about the cotton fields and these rows, but what Papaw doesn’t tell
you is that you have control in that cotton’s growth too.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Mamaw motioned for
Bijou to pass the balloon and string.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She blew a strong, powerful breath into the nylon sack until it slowly
grew to life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, she tied it
off tight and attached the polka dotted string Papaw cut for them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You have da power
to make a difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don’t
have to wait for no saving grace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t want you holding on to Papaw’s small town glory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s a good man, but he don’t want
nothing more than these here rows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I know you got more than that in you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Bijou beamed at
her Mamaw as they walked closer to the edge of the bluff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once they grew nearer, Bijou saw a mass
of bright colors floating through the sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fire torched under the large, majestic balloons, and
Bijou dreamed of floating in the comfort of the perfectly woven basket lead by
the supremacy of the wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mamaw
handed Bijou their small balloon, and Bijou clasped to the polka dotted string.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“You don’t have to
let it go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just know dat you can.”</div>
<!--EndFragment-->
</div>
</div>
Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-23519234268285109562014-01-26T08:21:00.000-08:002014-01-26T08:21:34.325-08:00Two Polar Vortexes in Pictures2014 has been cold. Like really cold. Like we've created a new weather term to describe the cold. Introducing you to Polar Vortex 1 & 2.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWfBOYVMAVm2hm_POXICqkhlTHRJzquqIASz2GAC09YX1foel7BqaYWxRVuH3GCxAWctDHBWthU2JuaTI0WV5MpxijC5t2Tq2eSXyoZI0dkNHn3zdV3Oy8JMWAlQfLwhymlvfBxPRdGxi/s1600/IMG_0347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWfBOYVMAVm2hm_POXICqkhlTHRJzquqIASz2GAC09YX1foel7BqaYWxRVuH3GCxAWctDHBWthU2JuaTI0WV5MpxijC5t2Tq2eSXyoZI0dkNHn3zdV3Oy8JMWAlQfLwhymlvfBxPRdGxi/s1600/IMG_0347.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
This was the night that the first Polar Vortex reared its chilly head.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiff3XXdQ0Zw4yI3ZSAzrXV4BK9-LHFrToUEebEllvz3oSESTLoeevc56ZW1piueEPcm8sYpCuEVA38fzMito0HFshFwEm16RmNxGVuuhZXzCmQ04iILLJt_lv8fefaWVYlfZTAKBnwXeBI/s1600/mose+snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiff3XXdQ0Zw4yI3ZSAzrXV4BK9-LHFrToUEebEllvz3oSESTLoeevc56ZW1piueEPcm8sYpCuEVA38fzMito0HFshFwEm16RmNxGVuuhZXzCmQ04iILLJt_lv8fefaWVYlfZTAKBnwXeBI/s1600/mose+snow.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG8BBVWbswrcXRcoLpbqfK2lTEJgpFUCtyrhd306C-ticB7bMtNtD9nyXV8fT4kJZsoYmDXaBhr3NAsgq08hWYVol1_q0MWFN0QtCyQNQwZeeE8d6JxuhWwZawlg3G8YciuwZ_MRU0oTUp/s1600/IMG_0376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We were keeping Mosley while Cap and J were home for the holidays. Poor pup shivered his way through our snowy walks like a trooper. I think it was 5 degrees on this particular morning.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG8BBVWbswrcXRcoLpbqfK2lTEJgpFUCtyrhd306C-ticB7bMtNtD9nyXV8fT4kJZsoYmDXaBhr3NAsgq08hWYVol1_q0MWFN0QtCyQNQwZeeE8d6JxuhWwZawlg3G8YciuwZ_MRU0oTUp/s1600/IMG_0376.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG8BBVWbswrcXRcoLpbqfK2lTEJgpFUCtyrhd306C-ticB7bMtNtD9nyXV8fT4kJZsoYmDXaBhr3NAsgq08hWYVol1_q0MWFN0QtCyQNQwZeeE8d6JxuhWwZawlg3G8YciuwZ_MRU0oTUp/s1600/IMG_0376.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The beauty of it all almost makes up for the debilitating cold. <i>Almost.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When Polar Vortex Numero Dos showed up last week, it was kind of like old news...<i> </i> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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....until it dropped about six inches of snow in a 24 hour span.</div>
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These pictures are not an accurate representation of all of the snow. Due to the bitterest of winds, a good bit of snow was displaced. The white cat begs like a banshee to be let out on the balcony. She doesn't really know what snow is, but thankfully, she doesn't like it. This outing lasted about two minutes.</div>
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I had to work late on Friday and nearly missed one of the most gorgeous sunsets I have ever seen. If there is one thing that I will miss about the bitter winter months, it is the jaw-dropping beauty of the sunsets. I think it must be the sun's way of showing us a little lovin' through a colorful display. I wish that I had been close to my big girl camera and in a better location to catch the perfect pinkness of the sun's rays glowing over the mountains. The intensity of the pink in the reflection on the river was nothing to the depth of color burning in the sky. IPhones just can't capture it all. </div>
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W and I basked in the 30 degree weather Saturday night and walked to the river to get some pictures of what I hoped would be another epic sunset. Alas, it was not the gloriously pink performance of the previous evening.</div>
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There were dark and ominous clouds rushing towards us from the West.</div>
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W indulged in a few more snowballs accidentally thrown at ducks floating down the river and rolling chunks of snow down the bank before we retreated inside to the warmth and some homemade risotto.</div>
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About 30 minutes after getting inside, we had a whiteout and mini blizzard move through. It lasted for about 30 minutes and also included a phenomenon known as "snowthunder." In the middle of the blizzard, there were two lightning strikes and a loud clap of thunder. The wind was insane and we could barely see across the street.<br />
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I thought the world was surely ending. <br />
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This morning, W left for his FINAL residency interview EVER. He has an 8 hour drive to Birmingham ahead of him. Unfortunately, I have to stay behind in cold and snowy WV. We have less than a month before his rank list is due, and less than 60 days until we find out where we will spend the next 5-9 years of our life.<br />
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Exciting times! Stay warm!<br />
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<b>-b</b>Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-51074025438951265672014-01-25T15:17:00.002-08:002014-01-25T15:17:39.909-08:00B's Woe Curing WeekendOn Friday, sleep-deprived and cold, I decided that four of the residents of 1408 could use a big, piping hot pot of soup for dinner. I felt that I owed Cap and J something major for J rescuing me at 3am from my boiler motor nightmare. W was also driving home from his interview in a snowstorm. Nothing fixes life's little woes like a pot of soup!<br />
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I love minestrone soup, so I sucked up my hate of chopping butternut squash and made <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/winter-minestrone-and-garlic-bruschetta-recipe/index.html" target="_blank">Ina's winter minestrone</a>. Make it. It won't disappoint.<br />
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I decided that we needed some serious veggies--all organic--to combat the chemical spill of the previous week. I kind of went all out. It was delicious!<br />
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On Saturday morning we did my most favorite thing ever: antiquing. I scored these awesome vintage cocktail forks for $2 at my favorite local haunt, <a href="http://southcharlestonantiquemall.com/" target="_blank">South Charleston Antique Mall</a>. <b> </b><br />
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<b>$2!!!</b><br />
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I fell in love with this pink rug. I am pretty sure it belongs to the same vendor I got my Swedish MCM dining chairs from. If so, I know him personally and might be calling him this week to find out the "friend" special for this beauty. ;) I mean, even W liked it and was excited by the prospect of expanding our vintage/antique rug collection!<br />
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I mean, isn't it just perfection?!<br />
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Then, we did W's favorite thing: ethnic food, specifically Vietnamese, specifically coconut chicken curry. I love the banh mi bo.<br />
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YUM. To everything pictured above. Except maybe the dude over W's shoulder.<br />
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This is South Charleston, WV's downtown, where the antique shop and Yen's are located. Interesting fact, South Charleston is actually west of Charleston--its just on the south side of the river. Directly behind me is a prehistoric Indian burial mound.<br />
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It was about 20 degrees and sneeting (snowing/sleeting). But, W and I (sans my super warm $130 coat.....) braved it and the ankle-breaking stone steps.<br />
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On Sunday, we indulged in a little thing (and new weekly tradition--for better or worse) I like to call cheese o'clock. The boys also got together and had a rather stress-inducing chat about residency. I just stuffed my face with cheese, plugged my ears and hummed.</div>
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So far, this weekend has proven to be the antithesis to the first two weeks of 2014. Let's keep this up, universe!<br />
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<b>-b</b><br />
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<i>*Editor's note: This post should have gone up mid-week but yet another string of bad luck pushed it from my mind. Just call me Scrooge.<b> </b></i> Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-63368831212092789072014-01-18T10:04:00.003-08:002014-01-18T10:04:44.398-08:00I went home, and found a little Cap.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitlCxFoT50yfK2RappaLvDz0Exi_NMAris-WYUvVYRAzaUbC2czA7Oi2wvDClJEhNV3NKI47W2FThiB3BZgwdbfru5eY6U1PJIo4gdHXBXgn0TlB-f4N006V7bUvLDLdo62ZvIlOghvqeO/s1600/photo-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitlCxFoT50yfK2RappaLvDz0Exi_NMAris-WYUvVYRAzaUbC2czA7Oi2wvDClJEhNV3NKI47W2FThiB3BZgwdbfru5eY6U1PJIo4gdHXBXgn0TlB-f4N006V7bUvLDLdo62ZvIlOghvqeO/s1600/photo-2.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water line from Hurricane Katrina. My Pops used to call me "Katrina, Katrina"... I couldn't resist.</td></tr>
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Hi friends,<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdcHkh9E3KMTyrCZts-iUGsdWRHA9uxtGWxWpKUow7ivL11Atozd0Q5xPyLZ17BbG-4TJukId5MjIlGexJLFfEv9DjcIj1Au1S36xNhf7phoBMFQY_HXs_i7Rc62RzdoR3ir-G5IPqNMtJ/s1600/photo-5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdcHkh9E3KMTyrCZts-iUGsdWRHA9uxtGWxWpKUow7ivL11Atozd0Q5xPyLZ17BbG-4TJukId5MjIlGexJLFfEv9DjcIj1Au1S36xNhf7phoBMFQY_HXs_i7Rc62RzdoR3ir-G5IPqNMtJ/s1600/photo-5.JPG" height="200" width="200" /></a>It's been quite a while since I've blogged, and for that... I am truly sorry! I've been enjoying life outside of the internet lately, and as grandma as it sounds... I have become a fan of silence. I drink my coffee in silence, sit on the couch in silence, run in silence, drive in silence... you get the picture. I worked in a coffee shop inside a very crowded mall over the holidays, and I became a lover for all things silent and non-christmasy. Yes, I was a down right scrooge, and I'm only just now becoming a better, kinder individual! J and I spent Christmas in Charleston without our families this year. I cried, ate cajun inspired meals and drank mimosas the whole way through. We were able to go home a few days after Christmas, and Cap, as you once knew her, was officially restored. <br />
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I can love again!<br />
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It's funny how much I talk about home these days. I'm sure my local friends are sick of my constant gush over New Orleans, Gumbo, Eggs Benedict, my family, boudin, Whole Foods, Trader Joes, King Cake, and did I mention food? I talk about food a lot. I'm always so happy to go home, and I always turn into a little 2 year old (who just found out her mother will not let her eat ice cream for breakfast) whenever I have to leave. It's a really sad, hilarious, sobbing, red nosed, puffy face sight... and honestly, I should film it one day so I can make millions for looking like a total spastic case. Home is one of those places that I know I love, but it's only when I'm there that I realize...<br />
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<i>I really effing love this place and all of the crazy, glorious people who live here.</i><br />
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Apparently, 2014 is the year Cap turns into a hormonal woman. At least, that's the only explanation I can conjure up for the flooding of my tear ducts. 2014 has transformed me into a crier. I wish it weren't so, but these days... I can only express happiness, sadness, love, passion, excitement and fear through crying. <i>What is wrong with me?</i><br />
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From the moment I landed in Baton Rouge, the tears flowed down like waterfalls, and they only semi slowed pace two days ago. My friends and family could only laugh at my lame attempt to fight back the tears. Here's why:<br />
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<i></i>I cried when I thought I couldn't spend my sister's birthday with her in New Orleans.<br />
I cried when I found out I could.<br />
I cried when I saw my BFF, Corbin, in the airport.<br />
I cried when I realized how tall he was.<br />
I cried when I noticed Jackson was a tall, smart, freakishly handsome, crazy-cool teenager.<br />
I cried when my Father-in-Law bragged on me.<br />
I cried when my niece cried over not getting to spend the night with me.<br />
I cried when she spent the night with me.<br />
I cried when she read to me.<br />
I cried when I was road tripping with my mom and realized I only had two more days with her.<br />
I cried when I saw my nephew for the first time.<br />
I cried when I left the Graham's and Brown's house.<br />
I cried when Nicole bought me a King Cake.<br />
I cried during a massage.<br />
I cried during an evening run.<br />
And I nearly had a flat out heart attack when I left my grandmother. <br />
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<i>....And I'm crying now as I type about crying. </i>BLAH!<br />
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I can't describe what leaving home 4 years ago was like, but I'm going to try like hell in these next few sentences...<br />
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Leaving was an adventure. It was fun, challenging, exciting, motivating, and scary. I wasn't nervous about leaving, I was only nervous that I may find something outside of Louisiana that would make me not want to go back. And, if I'm being honest, that has already happened (which is why I think I cry so much these days). I love home, and all of the people in it... but if you ask me to make a definite answer to continue living my dreams, or go home - I would probably disappoint you. J and I always talk about going home, but that reality is still 6-7 years away. We both have plans to discover uncharted land, and I love that more. The scary thing is that I can make all of these brave, selfish decisions when I'm stuck in Charleston, WV for a while, but when you bring me home.... I just want to pitch a tent on Highland road, and throw all of those crazy scholarly aspirations to the curbside.<br />
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Anyway... this is not my journal, so I will stop boring you with my rambling, mind labyrinth.<br />
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<b>NOW...THE GOOD STUFF. </b><br />
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While I was home, I got to spend some quality time with my sister. She constantly reminds me that one can never be too late, overdressed, too smart, or have too much fun. <br />
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She makes this whole life thing grand.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She dressed me in her designer wear.<br />I felt so fetch.</td></tr>
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After my New Orleans trip with Leah, I went back to Baton Rouge to smother myself in family, friends, nonacademic reading, and (once again) <b>good food</b>. These pictures should be able to tell a better story...</div>
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I hope you all were able to discover a little bit of yourself over the holidays...</div>
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Welcome to 2014!</div>
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-Cap</div>
Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-84632701100979776712014-01-17T12:42:00.002-08:002014-01-17T12:42:33.786-08:00Grimacing a SmileIt should be no surprise to you that last week was a rough one for me and pretty much all of Charleston, West Virginia and the adjacent eight counties. Oh, you live under a rock? <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/newsdesk/2014/01/a-chemical-spill-along-the-elk-river-in-west-virginia.html" target="_blank">Inform yourself!</a><br />
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You might remember from <a href="http://thecapandbrichronicles.blogspot.com/2014/01/watch-out-for-that-tree.html" target="_blank">this post</a> that I was already commiserating the pretty miserable start to a week that I had no idea was only going to get worse, i.e. <a href="http://www.pbs.org/newshour/extra/daily_videos/west-virginia-slowly-lifts-water-ban-chemical-spill/" target="_blank">the chemical spill</a> that tainted the tap water of nearly 300,000 people. The week started off as any first week of a new year should with a BANG. But there are good BANGS and bad BANGS and this was most definitely a bad BANG.<br />
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It started off with two days of below zero temperatures that my furnace could only keep up with to the tune of 62 degrees in our apartment. Luckily, I had my new and incredibly warm winter coat to help me fight back.<br />
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Until that is the realization that this $130 winter coat that had quickly become the love of my life had a gigantic tear sprouting from the top of the zipper. This tear was not an easy fix and was only getting bigger. Said coat had to be shipped back to COLUMBIA at my expense so that they could analyze it for 4-6 weeks to determine whether or not the tear was a result of my error or manufacturer's error and thus covered by a warranty to be repaired or replaced. I will keep you updated on this one. But just know that my cold little heart will be shivering for the next 4 to 6 weeks sans my dear, beloved coat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXSdu8gbP-c-sqfCpn_dBzKexiqT78uhZiQ1IngZLyyIWW3SkWe7FzfhIk6an3auyX8x93l_Jz6SVBEfWOk90xGerbm8Y7-bBjhLKcsJUfCUAcLnamsvG5NFNB46bjMwTxZcJZtTXF6oY_/s1600/IMG_0601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXSdu8gbP-c-sqfCpn_dBzKexiqT78uhZiQ1IngZLyyIWW3SkWe7FzfhIk6an3auyX8x93l_Jz6SVBEfWOk90xGerbm8Y7-bBjhLKcsJUfCUAcLnamsvG5NFNB46bjMwTxZcJZtTXF6oY_/s1600/IMG_0601.jpg" height="430" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical J and W.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Then, my Hunter boots, graciously gifted to me by <a href="http://buttersaltbutter.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Victoria</a>, both sprung a leak. On the same day. BOTH OF THEM. I wanted to cry. I wear those things ever day, everywhere. I feel a little lost without them. I have contacted Hunter but have yet to hear back from them concerning possible repairs, which I would gladly pay for myself. So, in the meantime, :( sad face.<br />
<br />
Then, a tree fell on my office and my car. You will remember that from my earlier post. The car is okay just sporting some new scratches and dents. No biggie, right?<br />
<br />
Yeah, no biggie, until said car breaks down on W while he is interviewing 6 hours away. You won't believe what it took to fix it. $500!!!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
But that happened after the chemical leak--news of which broke to the public at about 6pm. TEN HOURS AFTER THE CHEMICAL HAD SEEPED INTO THE ELK RIVER AND SUBSEQUENTLY OUR WATER SYSTEMS. I was aware of a very funky smell in my apartment bathroom at about 5:15 on Thursday afternoon. I didn't think much of it and decided to go for a run, which thankfully didn't progress past a brisk walk. Nearing the end of my walk, I received a text message from a friend warning of the chemical spill. Sure enough, by the time I got home around 5:50, we and about 299,998 people were under a water ban. Water was only to be used for flushing toilets and putting out fires. Comforting, right? W left for his interview the next morning, lucky guy. He got a nice hot, hotel shower! I, well, I washed my hair in a bucket with two inches of water and a bottle of water. <b>Invigorating</b>.<br />
<br />
That Saturday, Cap, J and I ventured about 30 minutes west of town to a non-tainted water area to shower at the YMCA. When we got there, the women's line was about 30 people long and I nearly had a meltdown right there next to the kiddie pool. I had left my phone in the car and went to retrieve it, and ran into our savior. No, not <i>that </i>savior. This savior was Meagan, a fellow Junior League girl who I barely knew. That sweet lady invited us to her friend's house where she was staying because of the spill and we were able to shower. Then, we ate restaurant food, which = food you don't have to clean up after since there is no usable water to wash dishes and/or make said food. What a way to lift your spirits!<br />
<br />
<i>Until, W calls and tells of his car trouble in the middle of your delicious mushroom-smothered patty melt and margarita.</i><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGTTasiaHcQkPEd6BIUEfwAPes3u0rmChv27Hfq9wprZgda9Rpt8kgUgFKA36VEcJk5eX1HiVQj_RG0EysODilK_8Mg583rMNSoQIl8q9xXLWlSnF-HxroPCgu-nbsUugMl9EB6MJZEaL/s1600/smalltack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGGTTasiaHcQkPEd6BIUEfwAPes3u0rmChv27Hfq9wprZgda9Rpt8kgUgFKA36VEcJk5eX1HiVQj_RG0EysODilK_8Mg583rMNSoQIl8q9xXLWlSnF-HxroPCgu-nbsUugMl9EB6MJZEaL/s1600/smalltack.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Freaking 2014, B. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We were without water from Thursday afternoon until Monday at noon. I showered that afternoon and have had no adverse effects. The smell in the water was the worst in our apartment on Saturday and Sunday. It was so bad that I had to open windows because it was burning my eyes. By Monday and after the "flush," the smell was still noticeable but was not hurting my eyes like before.<br />
<br />
(By the way, we continue to drink, cook and brush our teeth with bottled water.)<br />
<br />
So, things were looking up, right? <b>Wrong</b>.<br />
<br />
Wednesday afternoon, the heat in the office breaks. No biggie. Its fixed Thursday afternoon.<br />
<br />
:) Happy face. <br />
<br />
Skip to the wee hours of this (Friday) morning--3am to be exact--and I am awakened by the loudest roaring and rattling I have ever heard coming from our radiators. (Did I mention that W left Thursday for an interview 6 hours away??!) It literally sounded like the house was about to take off and shoot into outer space. My heart was pounding and I had no clue what to do, so I sat on the floor and called W, sobbing into my hands and praying for a break. I thought that surely the whole house must have been roaring and was waiting for Cap and J to call, but nothing. I ran outside and their lights were still off. Of course, it was a B problem. Just little ole lonesome me and an exploding boiler. Duh. Silly me for thinking I had company in my troubles. I called and texted Cap and J until I finally woke them up (sorry, guys!). By that time, I had turned my thermostat down and the noise was getting fainter. J came to the rescue and we shut the gas off from the boiler. I got back in the bed at 4am and lay there wide awake until about 5:15. The fear of a boiler/gas explosion was pretty minimal at that point, but I couldn't ignore the rhythmic "whom-whom-whom" of the boiler motor that continued to spin for the rest of the morning. I catnapped off and on until 9. <br />
<br />
Thanks to a 3:30am phone call to my landlord and subsequent text messages, a repairman was at the house by 11. Luckily, the motor just needed a little bit of oil and all is fixed. Such a simple solution for something I thought would surely end in death.<br />
<br />
But, man! I tell you, the universe is seriously trying to make herself heard.<br />
<br />
Universe, you have my full attention.<br />
<br />
<b>-b</b>Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-32965642351170865442014-01-08T07:59:00.001-08:002014-01-08T16:09:39.211-08:00Hillbilly Hotdogs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoj4V5CpPD2VOzoWOSKR92q0UlSNu3mUNwGWYXo-MPqmsHQ9v0rZJnW7nQgLHtem0bUoUDMm0ggNlch-oD20hlMZ7p6NxSegJVPhQ3SavRyJ5iNunMonx1bxoYrkHo1tkrBSGscH7AE5At/s1600/hillbilly3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoj4V5CpPD2VOzoWOSKR92q0UlSNu3mUNwGWYXo-MPqmsHQ9v0rZJnW7nQgLHtem0bUoUDMm0ggNlch-oD20hlMZ7p6NxSegJVPhQ3SavRyJ5iNunMonx1bxoYrkHo1tkrBSGscH7AE5At/s1600/hillbilly3.jpg" height="450" width="640" /></a></div>
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On Saturday morning after our obligatory visit to the flea market, which was really just a drive-by because the cold temperatures had kept vendors and us at bay, W and I made a detour on the way home onto I-64 West and decided to take a little road trip. Initially, we were just going to visit a few antique shops at exits about 25 minutes outside of Charleston, but I remembered that there was a place called <a href="http://www.hillbillyhotdogs.com/" target="_blank">Hillbilly Hotdogs</a> out in that direction (Lesage, WV). Knowing W's affinity for hotdogs, I googled it and found it to be about 20 minutes beyond our original destination. It was noon and with a healthy spinach smoothie each in our bellies, we decided it couldn't hurt to check out this local celebrity.<br />
<br />
Its pretty famous in these parts and on a certain Food Network show, which I won't mention.... because I can't stand the host. But I'm sure you can figure out the show considering what a (<i>hint, hint</i>) dive this place is. We didn't really know what to expect. I hadn't heard that much about it
and had never visited the website. I knew it was across the street from a
river, but that was about it. <br />
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It has the look of shanty-town, flea market, junk yard, dump, shack, etc. all rolled into one. Apparently, people bring random things and put them all around wherever they want. I guess it is an encouraged tradition? Also, you are encouraged to leave your mark and sign any spot available.<br />
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The <a href="http://www.hillbillyhotdogs.com/menu.php" target="_blank">menu</a> is huge with everything from hotdogs to hamburgers to salads to sandwiches--not at all what I was expecting. You order at the counter and then take a seat in one of two old school buses-turned dining rooms.<br />
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W and I are pretty conservative when it comes to our hotdogs. I don't eat them without slaw. W doesn't eat them without chili. So, our orders were a little boring. However, the folks in front of us went all out and got a taco hotdog and the one with mac and cheese on it. They said they were both delicious. We will gladly take their word for it!<br />
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W got two Hillbilly dogs and I got a West Virginia dog. Of course, we had to get sides. We got the garlic fries which are smothered in cheese, bacon and (YUM) ranch. I have never been able to say no to a fried pickle, so we got an order of those as well. I was much impressed with the condiment they provided with the pickles--ranch dressing. Usually, places serve honey mustard, but I am a ranch girl all the way and it was perfect.<br />
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You could spend at least an hour wandering around outside, investigating all of the odds and ends hung and stuck and set here and there.<br />
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In case you couldn't figure out what show it was featured on, you can see the sign in the picture below.<br />
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<br />
This face just about sums up the entire 45 minutes we spent there and the amount of calories consumed. Antiquing probably should have been done prior to eating all of this, but we were still able to tromp around some places for a few hours.<br />
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I highly recommend a visit! It is definitely a true West Virginia experience.<br />
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<b>-b</b>Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-69512168385553339682014-01-07T17:44:00.000-08:002014-01-07T17:45:44.590-08:00Watch out for that tree!This blog was supposed to be about the awesome little (40 minute) road trip that W and I took on a whim this Saturday, but that will have to wait.<br />
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You see, I'm a little distracted by the giant hackberry tree that fell on my office and partially on my car earlier today.<br />
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You see, the day already wasn't going that well. I recently took over doing the finances for the museum on top of everything else. I was excited for the opportunity to learn a new aspect of running a business, but I think I was a little too confident. There are some days when I just key in a few numbers and hope for the best.<br />
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Well, its not <i>that </i>bad, but it seems like it to me through the number haze.<br />
<br />
When the tree fell, I was on the phone with my treasurer attempting to explain the financial reports that I barely understood myself. And then I heard scratching over my head. At first, it sounded like a very large animal was doing calisthenics in the attic and then it was pretty obvious that a tree was falling on the roof. My coworker ran out the door and started yelling about "a tree!" and "our cars!" as the tree slid off the roof and came to rest on my car. By this point, I was crouched under my desk attempting to put on my boots and coat while hanging up with my treasurer and chanting Hail Marys.<br />
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I thought my coworker and I were going to be crushed by a tree--she by the trunk because she was standing outside and me by the collapsing roof. Luckily, none of the above happened. Thank goodness.<br />
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My car is okay, too--just a few scratches and some pretty gnarly dents. But it runs and is safe, so I'm okay with that.<br />
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It did take the tree company an hour to cut my car out and there is still half of a tree laying on the office roof, but all is well that end's well. The roof is not badly damaged and that makes one less tree to worry about come derecho season. Positivity!<br />
<br />
But after it all happened, I started to feel really sorry for myself. It is so hard for me these days to have something like this happen and to not take it personally. I can't help but feel like the universe is moving against me. Its like its trying to show me (and, boy, has it) that I am not where I should be. (And, I totally agree.) I know that I can take these circumstances (did I mention the other two trees that have fallen on the property; or the hardwood floor that had to be replaced; or the two--not one but TWO--cars that hit my previous museum during my tenure; I could keep going) any number of ways. Maybe, its my attitude. Maybe, its my location. My job. Who knows?<br />
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I know its not W. He is my everything. <br />
<br />
Then, W and I decided we needed Mexican for dinner to help me properly wallow in my self-pity, and it was just awful. The extra large bowl of pico de gallo that I like to shove my face in tasted like soap. Soap! Can you develop that aversion to cilantro overnight?! I hope not! And then, my hard shell beef taco was cold. I had to send it back. I've never even heard of sending food back at a Mexican restaurant.<br />
<br />
I took it personally.<br />
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And then, there's the cold. Not that I want to talk about it, but it's really freaking cold. Like the Jesus statue on my favorite trail is wearing red gloves it's so cold.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvwiFjkSy0xntIDa4sWaCsnPs66C4FbQo4MRrT-UdXo7CcfiWq8RnAVQ2rmioQ3aUF4WVBNOFwi8qBiWMhLDPcRwvyOPTLtHnAFTc9IZobnMG30atiwEqplzKDOl-mFCy70hk6WhyphenhyphenIaV1i/s1600/photo+2%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvwiFjkSy0xntIDa4sWaCsnPs66C4FbQo4MRrT-UdXo7CcfiWq8RnAVQ2rmioQ3aUF4WVBNOFwi8qBiWMhLDPcRwvyOPTLtHnAFTc9IZobnMG30atiwEqplzKDOl-mFCy70hk6WhyphenhyphenIaV1i/s1600/photo+2%25283%2529.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">told you...</td></tr>
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Our radiators can't keep up, so it is perpetually 60 degrees in our apartment. Luckily, we have an oil heater that I can practically sit on and a heater in the bathroom wall.<br />
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So, I'm getting over it all. Right now. Eating chocolate and watching The Biggest Loser. Because, is there any other way to watch The Biggest Loser? <br />
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I realize that things could be much, much worse and that is why I am now sitting cozily on top of my heater in doubled-up pajamas and gloves and a hat talking to you all. The pity party is over.<br />
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Want to really know what got me out of my funk? Firstly, we are toilet training our cats. Yes, we are teaching them to use the toilet instead of a litter box. Secondly, it is going quite well and we are not at all embarrassed. I mean, we are banking on being litter free in a month. Two cats and litter free?! Miracles!! Tonight was a first for this whole process though. It was the first time that both of the cats and one of us had to use the bathroom at the exact same time. (Oh yeah, there's only one toilet!) I won't say which one of us it was.................... but I got a major kick out of the frantically meowing and pacing cats and the unfortunate human bathroom occupant, the object of the meowing and pacing and door scratching.<br />
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I also have something exciting to look forward to this weekend! I am hosting a little Golden Globes party on Sunday. There will be <a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/gougeres" target="_blank">these cheese puffs</a> and <a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/artichoke-and-feta-tarts" target="_blank">this artichoke and feta tart</a> and <a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/brown-butter-raspberry-tart" target="_blank">this raspberry tart</a>. I can't wait to get baking and cooking! <br />
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<b>-b</b>Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-54482455573186785582014-01-02T14:46:00.001-08:002014-01-07T19:36:44.876-08:00A New Year and New GoalsGoals are positive achievements--something I can work with. The word "resolutions" just seems so naggy and I don't respond well to nagging. So, rather than resolve to do anything in 2014, I would like to set goals for things that I would like to accomplish in this new year.<br />
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<b>1. Take more pictures.</b><br />
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I apologize to all of you who follow me on Instagram. My brother says that he doesn't look at it anymore because I post too much. But, sometimes, that one Instagram picture is the highlight of my day! Finding the beauty in life's everyday routines is something to be celebrated. I just choose to do my celebrating through Instagram. I mean, its kind of hard to not find beauty with Instagram and its filters as your lens.<br />
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ALSO, I finally got my dream camera. I can't wait to explore the world with it. Don't worry. I have no desire to be a professional photographer, but I so enjoy capturing life's little and beautiful moments. I can't wait to try it outside of my very limiting IPhone.<br />
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<b>2. Make more things.</b><br />
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I love DIY projects, but am pretty terrible with follow-through. I am not a crafter. I think I'm crafty, but crafts just seem like so much work with so little gain for me. And, it is all totally due to my perfectionism and impatience. I just don't have the stamina to craft.<br />
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I love cooking and decorating and would like to do more of those two things in the new year. I hate that cooking can often feel like a boring chore. I have decided to make an addendum goal to this one to use recipes from my Junior League cookbooks (all EIGHT of them that I was required to buy). These recipes are great because they usually aren't too fussy and so far have been delicious. I've made crabcakes, remoulade, cornbread and pork loin with mustard sauce from them in just the past two days! I also made a chocolate glazed chocolate tart that turned out to be just what W's dark chocolate dreams are made of. He nearly ate half of it in one sitting. I am one to turn my nose up at baking and sniff (because I'm melodramatic and impatient and, alas, a terrible baker), but this time I stooped (kidding) and baked. And, I really enjoyed the process. I totally freaked beforehand and read the recipe about 12 times, but, in hindsight, that is probably what normal people do. My aversion to reading recipes through completely before beginning is my biggest downfall.<br />
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<b>3. </b>Seems only appropriate this should be <b>bake more. </b>(?!Can't believe I just typed that?!)<br />
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<b>4. STRESS LESS.</b><br />
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2014 is going to be a major year for us.<br />
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W will graduate from medical school<i>!! Thank the good, dear, beloved and holy Lord above all that is living and breathing and eking it out down here</i>. <br />
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We find out on March 21 where he matched for residency. <i>Cue fireworks.</i><br />
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We will move. <i>Cue hallelujah chorus and part the heavens.</i><br />
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To our new home for the next 5 to 7 years. <i>Cue panic attacks.</i><br />
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W GETS A PAYCHECK. W GETS A PAYCHECK. W GETS A PAYCHECK<i>. (I will still probably make more than him. Heh. Heh.) </i><br />
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Maybe we'll buy a house? Maybe we'll be moving into a 500 sq. ft. apartment in the Upper East Side? Maybe we'll have 1.66 children by year's end? <i>Ha.</i> Maybe we'll adopt multiple kittens?<br />
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Maybe--just maybe--we will have the best year of our lives yet?<br />
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Here's hoping! Cheers to you and 2014!<br />
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<b>-b</b><br />
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<br />Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-54993777720273450262013-11-01T13:39:00.000-07:002013-11-01T13:39:22.969-07:00November, You're BlushingIt seems like I was just whining about Monday, doesn't it?<br />
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TGIF, y'all, for real.<br />
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As soon as I get my hands on a camera that actually works, I will be posting more pictures of the apartment. My cracked and beat-up IPhone4 (WHAT. what. represent.) fails every time I try to capture the crumbling plaster and peeling paint of our current abode.<br />
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Rather than a weekend of big plans, W and I will be relishing in November, which happens to tie October for my favorite non-summer month. I seriously love Thanksgiving--always have, which means I have an equally serious love for the month in which it falls. My favorite thing to do is watch the Macy's Day Parade and nibble on my dad's famous stuffing, which he doesn't stuff in the bird since we <i>fry</i> our turkeys in South Carolina (read that last part in your best Honey Boo Boo voice). W thinks that it is so lame and so weird to watch the parade--I mean, who actually does that?<br />
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Millions,W. Millions of people. <b>Its the freaking Macy's Day Parade! </b>Back off.<br />
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November means that family time and delicious food and good movies and great music and parties and friends and happiness are just around the corner. It really is getting to be the most wonderful time of the year.<br />
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And so, this first weekend of this my-tied-for-first-place-favorite-non-summer-month will be spent doing my favorite things:<br />
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I have asked and W has agreed that we shall grill out Friday and Saturday night (maybe Sunday, too??). Because grilling sans mosquitoes is a godsend.<br />
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Cap and I will be going to an estate sale Saturday morning.<br />
Looking for:<br />
1. Dining room chairs to replace the ones I sold in our August yard sale so that people will actually be able to sit for Thanksgiving, which I am hosting. Yeah, I didn't really think that one through....<br />
2. Serving pieces and utensils.<br />
3. Etched mirror to go above my dresser.<br />
4. Bowls that will go with the Horchow.<br />
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The leaves are really putting out the goods today, so I'm hoping the weekend is just one, long golden and delicious day. I plan to stare at some leaves for a while, hopefully from the comfort of my lawn chair. W and I are totally those weird people who sun themselves in the middle of the front front yard. Wrapped in blankets. Maybe sleeping. Drooling? Yep.<br />
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Hiking. There's a new trail I want to check out.<br />
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Table fixing, since our kitchen island leg broke (and sent my beautiful glass bowl shattering to the ground).<br />
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And, fire pit!!<br />
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Have a wonderful weekend! Follow me on instagram (<a href="http://instagram.com/bri_jackson#" target="_blank">bri_jackson</a>) to see my "currently coveting" posts and our steals as we wheel and deal at the sale!<br />
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<b>-b</b>Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-20825282755522620372013-10-28T15:14:00.001-07:002013-10-28T15:14:40.046-07:00Not Another MondayMondays are the worst. Monday mornings usually find me dragging and depressed and whining to W, who--ever the sweetest man on earth--whispers soothing words to me via texts. Ah, technology.<br />
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In an effort to lift my spirits, I usually try to focus on my favorite day of the week--the weekend--which always does just feel like one, gloriously long and refreshing day. We took this past weekend slow. We weren't fully up and functioning until about 11 each morning. I couldn't help but get a little annoyed at myself for wasting the precious hours between 9 and 11 with such nonsense as delicious lattes on the couch and weekend PBS programming (my favorite) and cuddly and soft kittens and brushing my teeth, and exclaimed both mornings, HOW IS IT ALREADY 11. EVERYTHING IS OVER. THE WEEKEND IS OVER. IT JUST MIGHT AS WELL BE MONDAY. UGH. UGH. UGH. THIS IS JUST AWFUL.<br />
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To which W replied, okaaaaay, do I take a right or a left here?<br />
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Oh, W, my steady and emotionally-stable rock. I would probably be institutionalized if it weren't for him--or partial to cocaine.<br />
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Despite my mid-morning freak-outs, we had a pretty fantastic weekend. In fact, we've had quite a few pretty good weekends. Here are snippets from the last couple of months that I am relishing in right now.<br />
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These clam shell cocktail plates make me so happy. I can't wait to use them at Thanksgiving, which I am hosting this year. Eeee!</div>
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Flea market haul. I've already gifted the blue and white pitchers to Cap. They didn't end up working in my living room and look awesome in her guest room. I was pretty shocked to find a piece of tobacco leaf pattern china for $5. It matches a set that I bought back in September when Margaret was visiting. <i>I know, you've missed so much, but it is entirely my fault. </i>The verdict is still out on the mid century modern (MCM) sugar and creamer set. W abhors them. I do think they are little shiny, but I kind of love them. The MCM ash tray was actually found by W and looks awesome on the bar cart--not sure of what it could be used for though. The pink glasses are just heavenly and make me yearn for Christmas. I have always hated the color red (until recently) and preferred hot pink for Christmas. </div>
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Margaret and I on our way to Lewisburg when she visited all the way from NYC on Labor Day Weekend. We stopped at Hawks Nest State Park for the views.</div>
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My new china (I sold my wedding china--grandmothers everywhere are shocked) that I scored at one of my favorite antique stores in Lewisburg. I got four 5 piece place settings plus two coffee mugs (not pictured) for less than $70. The china is Horchow tobacco leaf pattern. W and I are still pretty obsessed with it. (Yep, he loved it, too!) The two coffee mugs that came with it were also in a tobacco leaf pattern, but not Horchow. I'm unsure of the maker, but the platter that I found this weekend matches those perfectly. Unfortunately, there was a sticker on the bottom that said "for decorative use only," so it now lives on the mantel. I adore it.</div>
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That planter was a flea market find and what encouraged the blue and white theme of which the pitchers were a bust.</div>
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W and I went to a costume party at the local crossfit gym Saturday night after a delicious dinner of pizza and sangria with Cap, J and J's dad, Mr. Mike, who was visiting from Louisiana. W was a very handsome gladiator. I was a not-quite-black-haired Wednesday Addams. I (of course!) couldn't find black hair paint anywhere. I used eye shadow that I brushed in. W was not a fan of the brown locks.</div>
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Also, a Halloween party at a crossfit gym is so un-fun, considering the 20, 30 and 40 (!!!!!) + year old women in barely there costumes. And, who can blame them? Not me! They looked fantastic. I was definitely the most covered up. People thought I was a nun. I can't help but laugh about how juxtaposed my costume was from every other female at that party. I also will<i> never eat again.</i> Period.</div>
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The weekend ended as so many have before--family dinner with Cap and J and this beauty of a chicken. This is the most delicious chicken you will ever eat in your life. Promise.<br />
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Recipe:<br />
Butterfly your chicken (remove the backbone and break the breastbone).<br />
Rinse and pat dry.<br />
Smother in Tony Cacheres Cajun Seasoning.<br />
Grill on the cold side of a charcoal grill (no lighter fluid!), covered for 30 minutes, skin side up.<br />
Don't touch it.<br />
After 30 mins., rotate it 90 degrees.<br />
Cover and don't touch it for another 30 mins.<br />
Make sure the internal temp is 160 degrees.<br />
Remove and rest for 15 mins.<br />
EAT.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>-b</b></div>
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Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-28912753919156361332013-10-25T10:42:00.001-07:002013-10-25T10:56:48.400-07:00Curtain Spiff-UpFirst of all, you should know that I graduated from the College of Charleston in Charleston, SC (ie: the most historic place <i>ever</i>) with a degree in Historic Preservation. Now, you will understand why I have a very strict rule when it comes to choosing housing. I only choose old-- the older, the better.<br />
<br />
Currently, we live in a circa-1910 monster Victorian of which we occupy 75% of the second floor. I adore our apartment except for a few glaring oversights (a proper dining room, which means that living room dinner parties are the norm; a second bathroom; a dishwasher; a garbage disposal). Just because I love historic buildings does not mean I want to live historically. I enjoy the finer things in life, such as motorized dish washing and more indoor plumbing.<br />
<br />
You should also know that one feature of historic buildings that I love the most is original windows. This can be heartbreaking at times, since they are a rapidly disappearing feature. Enter: vinyl windows, the scum of the earth. Luckily, both of the historic buildings in which we have lived over the last four years have retained their original windows. Sure, they can be drafty, but there are so many, easy options out there to make them more energy efficient. In my opinion, you take out the windows, you take out the soul. Rant over.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgMQU6XMBAzEmPi_QGJ0HY-w96YmZLSM70CBZLnvMR-MMQ1xd0bWnvsjBKiqVPRL0EtPDSHODxhQVDldPy7umloF_tfv9einX_OwBqs05v-6e8_RzvJyy03g0lx9PG_gxFkqC4UmMuN4oo/s1600/IMG_4026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgMQU6XMBAzEmPi_QGJ0HY-w96YmZLSM70CBZLnvMR-MMQ1xd0bWnvsjBKiqVPRL0EtPDSHODxhQVDldPy7umloF_tfv9einX_OwBqs05v-6e8_RzvJyy03g0lx9PG_gxFkqC4UmMuN4oo/s640/IMG_4026.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our circa-1897 building in Lewisburg, WV. Our apartment was the three window bays to the far right on the 2nd floor.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ni860kIoIaXub_dtBP0sZPQARKtqgeUT0_tI33mDsmbfhCMHtOq9C4_l_pjrh3je2zBfdn5tH05y-7jhn5ldvbivyfWaoKkQBVRBPbv51DUervo321u5We52wZ5uzuJ5stHiaydgttw3/s1600/IMG_3323.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ni860kIoIaXub_dtBP0sZPQARKtqgeUT0_tI33mDsmbfhCMHtOq9C4_l_pjrh3je2zBfdn5tH05y-7jhn5ldvbivyfWaoKkQBVRBPbv51DUervo321u5We52wZ5uzuJ5stHiaydgttw3/s640/IMG_3323.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our old living room. The windows were gorgeous.*</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">(The wall color is still a favorite, Valspar's Woodlawn Lace; the trim is semi-gloss white.)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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I tell you all of this so you will understand my strange, unconventional (?) approach to how I dress these original windows. LESS is better. The first thing I have done in both of our apartments has been to immediately rip out blinds and curtains that remain. Our first apartment had awful vinyl blinds, which are not easy to clean and are not made for historic windows. They almost always never fit. Even if you get them cut to width, they are usually too short or way too long. And, let's just face it, they're ugly. Our current apartment had some pretty awful polyester track curtains a la 1973. I couldn't wait to rip those things down.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NGLj-IfLF71GmFCCFS3cXjEj3sXtxgIAiJF0VfEts27V1jZovkY0EEZ9yLtbOf762pXlbYexfqIOYGS9yw4Ce3rrQ7oeUX9aK3UnK1l9_CtB1WSS8_FyhtYgLHy1pWKKv6nhD8rIVoNr/s1600/IMG_0608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NGLj-IfLF71GmFCCFS3cXjEj3sXtxgIAiJF0VfEts27V1jZovkY0EEZ9yLtbOf762pXlbYexfqIOYGS9yw4Ce3rrQ7oeUX9aK3UnK1l9_CtB1WSS8_FyhtYgLHy1pWKKv6nhD8rIVoNr/s640/IMG_0608.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our current building before the porchony got a makeover.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF66i9dklLbW0znWxRtSb-2U743aoEKNvxjtSOsVupEjEq6mhuZmfGZOP5cwf_51i8392SAZU_391r3UZA4X0-QF8rgImC1ElsxO-rlwvxNuz_W5nak3DQkiIUwXKoyqyYfnwDAxCqCOAw/s1600/IMG_0226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF66i9dklLbW0znWxRtSb-2U743aoEKNvxjtSOsVupEjEq6mhuZmfGZOP5cwf_51i8392SAZU_391r3UZA4X0-QF8rgImC1ElsxO-rlwvxNuz_W5nak3DQkiIUwXKoyqyYfnwDAxCqCOAw/s640/IMG_0226.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely pepto pink polyester curtains, right? This is our bedroom.</td></tr>
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<br />
<b>Bri's Solution for Window Treatments for Historic Apartment Living</b><br />
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First thing's first: If you know that your situation is temporary, treat your window treatment solution as temporary. AKA, don't put too much time, effort or money into it, since these curtains will most likely not work in your next place and are therefore not worth a major investment. Finally, (most) historic windows are just beautiful and don't need too much dressing up. Embrace the old! Don't try to cover up trim and moldings. Try to do as little to the original fabric of the window as possible. Be unobtrusive, but still make sure that your needs are met. Choose appropriate textiles and hanging methods. And, just have fun!<br />
<br />
Here's what I do.<br />
<br />
1. Buy two sets of cheap curtain rods for each window. I got ours at Walmart or Lowes for around $4-$8 each, depending on the size I needed. The windows in the bedrooms were wider than the kitchen and living room, so I needed longer rods. I chose silver tone, because although they are cheap, I don't want them to look too cheap. You get it, right?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeIBaUWl7476Rbkxw1EBlZ0HpFrSacX1Uh_k4txrz8_zw-Wy_-z6hBPlyOUk_eV6gJvpfc-GGjRm_6in2z4ApdqLZFP_dKwp4XAWbc0Hz6YQ1Lxi8NmBIjwA_W_L0aqogHxq-rSRvxM5t/s1600/IMG_5931%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeIBaUWl7476Rbkxw1EBlZ0HpFrSacX1Uh_k4txrz8_zw-Wy_-z6hBPlyOUk_eV6gJvpfc-GGjRm_6in2z4ApdqLZFP_dKwp4XAWbc0Hz6YQ1Lxi8NmBIjwA_W_L0aqogHxq-rSRvxM5t/s640/IMG_5931%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheap silver tone rods.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">(The reason both sets of rods are bent and wonky is because we have a white cat that likes to dangle from the curtains when we won't let her out on the porchony. This is another reason to not invest in more expensive window treatments. Naughty creatures!)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
2. Depending on the amount of privacy needed in each room, buy 1 to 2 sheer curtains for each window. Since we are on the second floor and have a good bit of tree coverage, I chose to buy only one sheer curtain panel for each window. I did the same for our kitchen. Since bedrooms are a more private area, I got two sheer curtain panels for each window. Walmart and Lowes have sheers for $4 a panel.<br />
<br />
3. Buy one curtain panel for each window. I chose to buy curtain panels (preferably at Target when I find them on sale), but you could make them if they are cost effective. I am a sewing and craft dunce, so store bought saves me time and frustration. I chose simple white curtains for the living room, $9 a panel at Target (on sale). I chose printed curtains for both bedrooms. They were on sale, maybe $12 a panel, but I can't really remember. Again, one curtain panel per window is a savings. Sure, the windows would look better with two, but I have found with the sheer curtains closed (meaning spread across the window) and the panel pushed to one side, the window actually looks pretty well dressed.<br />
<br />
4. Install, and you're done. My curtains are not perfect for my windows, since historic windows vary in size and shape and I bought stock curtains. Mine hang right below the window sill, but I find I'm not bothered by this. My curtains are 84 in. length. You could always hem them with hem tape or liquid stitches for the sewing challenged.<br />
<br />
5. Or, you can jazz them up a bit like I did in the living room.<br />
<br />
I picked up some white pom pom trim and a bottle of liquid stitches to add some charm and de-cheapen my cheap ass curtains. I still haven't finished one of the panels as I bought all of the pom pom trim that Jo-Ann's had (a whopping two rolls!) and they still haven't restocked. :( Things like this make living in West Virginia not so fun. I feel like we are always three steps behind. Anyways, I bought two rolls of pom pom trim ($3.99 each), which was enough for 1 1/3 curtains, and a bottle of liquid stitches ($7). My total after coupons for the project was about $12. I will need one more roll of trim to complete my panel. So, about $15 total for my update. Applying the trim was super easy. I laid the curtain flat on the ground and put a few paper towels under the area I was applying. You do have to press on the trim and hold it for a bit, but once the glue starts to dry, its stuck. And because the glue is water soluble until it dries, its easy clean-up. I thought I would have to reinforce parts of the trim with a thread stitch, but so far, so good. It took me about 30 mins. to do 1 1/3 curtains. Not bad!<br />
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Last year, Cap and I picked up a bag of 6 curtain tie backs from the flea market for $1. She has two in her dining room. I decided to add two to the living room to further dress my windows. Since our curtain panels are usually open, pushed to one side, the addition of the tie backs really dresses things up and is functional. W kindly drilled the holes and just screwed them in. I think it took him 5 mins. after I picked the height. I am forever finding curtain tie backs at antique shops, so keep an eye out. They are a fun and unexpected accessory for a room.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>BEFORE</b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9SULsfSq1pHeC43urmMeQPlnuG42LCiZvA2FAtNeX8uY0O5feoBmEI-SBQA6zS2f2RimGkGhVvVQdlB5xdDJxMQEZU_CNNFZN5QkmupF1vvp4c9_0wGRoG0S_3jlzVfhymR-MUrClp-cx/s1600/IMG_5927%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9SULsfSq1pHeC43urmMeQPlnuG42LCiZvA2FAtNeX8uY0O5feoBmEI-SBQA6zS2f2RimGkGhVvVQdlB5xdDJxMQEZU_CNNFZN5QkmupF1vvp4c9_0wGRoG0S_3jlzVfhymR-MUrClp-cx/s400/IMG_5927%5B1%5D.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>AFTER*</b></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">(Note the black cat passed out on the radiator. You'd think it was cold or something!?)</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
*WINDOWS IN OUR FIRST APARTMENT: I ripped down the vinyl blinds. In the living room, I put up two sheer panels per window and
one tea-stained curtain panel per window. In our bedroom, which also
fronted the road like the living room, we used double-sided tape and
attached sheets of white butcher paper with a dark gray curtain panel in each window. The paper provided complete privacy and filtered
the light in a very nice way. Since the view was the same from the
living room and bedroom, we didn't mind not having a view from the
bedroom.<br />
<br />
*We have not painted in this apartment. </div>
</div>
<br />
<i>Do you have any easy and cheap window dressing tips?</i><br />
<br />
Coming up:<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>I apologize for the poor quality photos--working on it!</b></span></div>
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<b>-b</b>Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-24945536596219728382013-10-24T06:48:00.000-07:002013-10-25T06:12:40.510-07:00It's OctoberIt is more than a little hard to believe that it is October. I mean, I am still referring to events that happened back in March like they were yesterday. Because, like, that totally just happened last month. YOU know, in March. Last month!<br />
<br />
I have such mixed feelings about the speed at which time is passing. On the one hand, I am so incredibly excited for March 21st, I can barely stand it. I want it here NOW. But on the other, I love October and Fall and Thanksgiving. And, holy crap, October ends in 7 days. And now I'm just depressed.<br />
<br />
But, back to March 21st.<br />
<br />
THAT is the date that decides our future. THAT is the date when we find out where W has matched for residency. THAT is the date that our entire our apartment will be packed up and I will be hightailing it out of here for our future home. It might not end up being our forever home, but 5-6 years in one place will feel like forever after all of the hop, skip and jumping around we've been doing over the last five years. Because in the last five years, I have lived FIVE different places.<br />
<br />
Let's recap:<br />
<br />
May 2009 - I graduated from the College of Charleston.<br />
<br />
June 2009 - I left my beloved Charleston, SC to move back home (Florence, SC) until our wedding.<br />
<br />
July 2009 - Married W.<br />
<br />
August 2009 - Moved into W's mom's basement in Columbia, SC. Lived there for two weeks before moving into the tiniest little place--still in Columbia, SC.<br />
<br />
June 2010 - Moved to Lewisburg, WV so that W could attend medical school.<br />
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June 2012 - Moved to Charleston, WV so that W could continue his third and fourth years of medical school (they have a statewide campus for rotations).<br />
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April - June 2014 - MOVING SOMEWHERE I DON'T KNOW WHERE!<br />
<br />
So, that's Charleston, SC; Florence, SC; Columbia, SC; Lewisburg, WV; Charleston, WV. I like to think I have come full circle ending back up in a Charleston. I am kind of hoping that the universe notices this symmetry and balance that I have achieved in my life and cuts a girl some slack in our next great adventure.<br />
<br />
The next 3 months will see W and I traveling all over the eastern half of the United States for his residency interviews. I am thrilled at the prospect of getting to see places in the US I may never have occasion to visit. But, you better believe, I will be in hardcore scope-out mode. Any one of those places could be our home in less than 6 months. Mind blown. <br />
<br />
W has suddenly turned all superstitious and won't let me peep a word to the general public about his residency interviews, but I just can't help myself. Here they are in the vaguest terms ever.<br />
<br />
He has one interview in the Midwest. My feelings are pretty bleh about the prospect of living in this particular Midwest city, because its not anything major or special, EXCEPT for the residency program. Its kind of insane that W got it. But, its freaking cold there. I'm so over snow.<br />
<br />
He has one interview in New England. This one kind of makes me squeal every time I think about it!<br />
<br />
He has one interview in the Northeast. This one also kind of makes me squeal in equal parts delight and fright.<br />
<br />
He has one interview in Dixie. I actually wouldn't mind this one at all. It would be a new time zone!<br />
<br />
He has several interviews in the mountains. I am indifferent to these. I would prefer coast, obviously!<br />
<br />
He has a couple in SC, which thrill me to no end at the thought of being closer to family.<br />
<br />
So there you have it. He is still getting emails daily. And, of course, not all of them are interviews. There have been rejections. At this point, the interview invitations far outweigh the rejects! Thank all that is holy for that.<br />
<br />
Here is what you've missed (through no fault of your own--I am the delinquent blogger here):<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh2X1kIU7C1MFKURq67PECIu9cjH8B369wW1ehnk_2f7A1eRK78iZlWL03w3TWzbr5HIZ9bZsk6jhuP2xoj2uPXWl7UsxJXfUSYoyBnvzWj7rOizVaLQ-HAm3Sc-nr2O7JSrbcFKGno_fo/s1600/IMG_5657%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh2X1kIU7C1MFKURq67PECIu9cjH8B369wW1ehnk_2f7A1eRK78iZlWL03w3TWzbr5HIZ9bZsk6jhuP2xoj2uPXWl7UsxJXfUSYoyBnvzWj7rOizVaLQ-HAm3Sc-nr2O7JSrbcFKGno_fo/s400/IMG_5657%5B1%5D.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Went apple picking with this nut and W's whole family.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifoOUc-tUD2QymCUba3Pcjyhqyqg6H_833sDxtQPW1Y_S_jcL5m3EMrMPIQ1YlLsbPwMW87zXxNxocsDMi8rozpvz-P3kmxUvtAtkLg8dTU4JYD189-m1P3EKXJZ84IAKi_unv1dwTN7PJ/s1600/IMG_5704%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifoOUc-tUD2QymCUba3Pcjyhqyqg6H_833sDxtQPW1Y_S_jcL5m3EMrMPIQ1YlLsbPwMW87zXxNxocsDMi8rozpvz-P3kmxUvtAtkLg8dTU4JYD189-m1P3EKXJZ84IAKi_unv1dwTN7PJ/s400/IMG_5704%5B1%5D.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cap and I made a mistake, but we looked cute doing it!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggiJrGQEre8nHI978aCGkByoOSRUPeu-VB6-Z8e7VM0qgFD1ivP3v1VrIVESc1PfS6PAX-6nbv1xvCbvhYFoNPRHP4ZBFTZ6Nh5QOP6u5wuswC-WhQF1QVR35MQpOX9WHDe4M6w5ExSUjF/s1600/IMG_5838%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggiJrGQEre8nHI978aCGkByoOSRUPeu-VB6-Z8e7VM0qgFD1ivP3v1VrIVESc1PfS6PAX-6nbv1xvCbvhYFoNPRHP4ZBFTZ6Nh5QOP6u5wuswC-WhQF1QVR35MQpOX9WHDe4M6w5ExSUjF/s400/IMG_5838%5B1%5D.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">W TURNED 30!</td></tr>
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<br />
Can you believe I am married to a 30 year old? Me either.<br />
<br />
Coming up on this here blog:<br />
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I've been so incredibly bored lately. So, I've taken to over-designing the apartment. And since interior design is really one of my great joys in life, I have decided to start sharing more about it! Tomorrow's post will feature a $12 upgrade to my cheap ass curtains.<br />
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See you then!<br />
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<b>-b</b>Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-83256215108572954592013-08-12T13:36:00.003-07:002013-08-12T13:36:38.980-07:00Hippy(ie) MedicineFirst of all, let me just say that I have no qualms with hippies. In fact, I admire their complete disregard for all things mainstream and general go-with-the-flow attitude towards life. And I am always happy to try out the beat of a different drummer<br />
<br />
And let me just say that the ambiguous spelling of the word hippy(ie), as in flower child and not hips like a truck, truck, truck, is sort of making me a little neurotic this morning. It apparently started out being spelled hippy and then was changed to hippie. But, I'm a curmudgeon stuck in the old ways of things, so I'm using hippy. So, there!<br />
<br />
Now that is out of the way. I have just begun a month-long trial of introducing two life-style habits, homeopathic cures, hippy(ie) medicine--I really don't know what to call them--into my routine.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRUD49gwCQl9T6svA8iuf598tmRPRTcK1o1JS9J8YOOKepJKoKLi8JLj0wEQClKmMtMUplMrlcpJN_G37FXCYbDDHRdGR9xRcOiRi8sivmIlcs36mXh0jaooIZlZ1Jz2-EPL1Jl85OUGj/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRUD49gwCQl9T6svA8iuf598tmRPRTcK1o1JS9J8YOOKepJKoKLi8JLj0wEQClKmMtMUplMrlcpJN_G37FXCYbDDHRdGR9xRcOiRi8sivmIlcs36mXh0jaooIZlZ1Jz2-EPL1Jl85OUGj/s400/images.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.peachridgeglass.com/2013/08/jerrys-hippie-dippie-bottle/" target="_blank">source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Here's why:<br />
<br />
About my Freshman/Sophomore year of high school, I, out of the blue, developed a patch of eczema on the back of my scalp. I had never had eczema before--neither had anyone in my family. My mother (a nurse) would put tea tree oil and various other things on it, before it got so unbearable I went to the dermatologist. He gave me a medicine that would control it, but never cleared it up completely. I would have flare-ups. But then I would also have days and weeks where it would clear up before returning with a vengeance. Things went like this until about three years ago, when in addition to the patch on my scalp, I developed a patch in my ear. Yes, in my ear canal. Talk about misery?? I still had a stock of medicine left from my days as a dependent on my parents' health insurance, and I have hoarded that stuff since, using it only in extreme cases. About a year ago, the patch on my scalp cleared up completely and never returned until this summer. But this time, it came back on the other side of my scalp. My other ear is also showing signs of beginning to break out.<br />
<br />
I am in full-on attack mode. The dermatologist is a last resort, as I plan to wait until next summer when W will be working and we will finally have decent health insurance. Isn't it ironic that the med student and his wife can't afford healthcare!?<br />
<br />
So, back to my hippy(ie) medicine.<br />
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I am an avid internet-er. I follow multiple news outlets on various social medias and just love to click links and read articles on various and sundry. <a href="http://www.npr.org/2013/08/11/211130501/the-algae-is-coming-but-its-impact-is-felt-far-from-water" target="_blank">Algae taking over the planet</a>? Fascinating. <a href="http://www.npr.org/2013/08/11/211130501/the-algae-is-coming-but-its-impact-is-felt-far-from-water" target="_blank">Burial ground in Bedlam unearthed</a>? Can't get enough. <a href="http://intothegloss.com/2013/08/rachel-antonoff-designer/" target="_blank">What does Rachel Antonoff's top shelf in her bathroom contain</a>? Gotta know!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUAdwMzqSs_tmzoaFUTZbW49fDK0aFfvspcILvGOg-CKTipub62qEp5ZjUUkcRFUL3QG6ard11dfz3BPgxYF_7rLxyYZDNMMLLGmoT08AUV2N73YrzA998LKrzM7mLbnJq3XkOWbW4DkWF/s1600/TheAlgaeMan_640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUAdwMzqSs_tmzoaFUTZbW49fDK0aFfvspcILvGOg-CKTipub62qEp5ZjUUkcRFUL3QG6ard11dfz3BPgxYF_7rLxyYZDNMMLLGmoT08AUV2N73YrzA998LKrzM7mLbnJq3XkOWbW4DkWF/s1600/TheAlgaeMan_640.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=qvLlZqC1Ax7tPM&tbnid=InNZa9MSWHzxdM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.takepart.com%2Fphotos%2Ffragile-earth-july-2013&ei=GvQIUsP9BZP7yAHnj4CoDw&bvm=bv.50500085,d.b2I&psig=AFQjCNG9ozxTI7ADjIoRr7uxI2EXeezOsg&ust=1376404884211049" target="_blank">source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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It was during one of these clickfests that I stumbled upon a website/blog--I can't even remember at this point--where some algae-eating hippy(ie) was talking about how she gargled coconut oil every morning and it cleared up every single skin ailment she had ever had and hasn't had any since.<br />
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FULL DISCLOSURE: <i>I don't know that she eats algae--I don't even know if that's possible or safe. But, wouldn't it be convenient to help with the algae-taking-over-the-world problem referenced above? I also don't know that she was a hippy(ie).</i><br />
<br />
So, anyways, she religiously swished coconut oil for about 20 minutes every morning and ITS MAGIC, PEOPLE. Or, <i>apparently</i>, it is. I figured, why the heck not?<br />
<br />
Last week, I bought the expensive, all natural, all organic, all toxin free, pressed-straight-from-the-coconut-pulp oil and stared at it for about 5 days before I finally worked up the nerve to gargle with it. I'm a texture person, as in, I can't stand the texture of slimy things like yogurt, oatmeal and certain fruits. Plus, I really don't like the smell of coconut and this stuff REEKED. I wasn't really sure how much to use, so I decided to start with a teaspoon full. Of course, coconut oil is solid, so you have to melt it in your mouth first before you swish. I barely got half of the teaspoon in, so I used the remaining oil as moisturizer on my legs and arms and now I can't escape the coconut smell. That was a big mistake that I will not be making again. The swishing really wasn't that bad. Once it melts, it feels like olive oil. And I could drink certain olive oils--like guzzle. Especially, <a href="http://shop.californiaoliveranch.com/?gclid=CJHIyZON-LgCFdBcMgodHjsAbQ" target="_blank">this one</a>. So, I swished and swished--but not for 20 minutes. When you spit it out, you are supposed to scrape your tongue or else you will just keep swallowing the remaining oil. Easy peasy.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiudfZvqSo7Z0gk48GWPOJyHuvF0RiYguyjx99etr9nZpizqbZa2BluD1zPGBLWwZecyZVkEKIEx6-IZ8f01SlqFT2SBe9BUdPsbv7auq_V5c-ZFjVnnfizdGMmFrSiARtdQurNyijrE5sr/s1600/Coconut-Oil-Health-Benefits.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiudfZvqSo7Z0gk48GWPOJyHuvF0RiYguyjx99etr9nZpizqbZa2BluD1zPGBLWwZecyZVkEKIEx6-IZ8f01SlqFT2SBe9BUdPsbv7auq_V5c-ZFjVnnfizdGMmFrSiARtdQurNyijrE5sr/s640/Coconut-Oil-Health-Benefits.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://coconutoil.com/" target="_blank">source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
(By the way, I also have tried the coconut oil topically on my ear and scalp. It sort of helped, but it kept coming back.)<br />
<br />
Then, came the other hippy(ie) medicine: apple cider vinegar. You read everywhere--or at least, I do--about people drinking apple cider vinegar each morning. Just like the hot water with lemon, it is supposed to really jump start your body/health/metabolism/day. Apple cider vinegar is an alkaline that is supposed to get your body's pH to the right level. This is of course supposed TO BE MAGIC, TOO. The one thing that people always say about drinking apple cider vinegar is the wonderful effects it has on the skin. I figured it was worth a try. I am trying to work my way up to a full tablespoon. Right now, I'm at a teaspoon. I also have read to swish the vinegar before swallowing as it apparently whitens your teeth. I will be trying that out as well.<br />
<br />
And just so you know, Mrs. Bonnie, who was married to Mr. Bobbie, and who both drove the van at the daycare that I went to for the first 8 years of my life, drank apple cider vinegar every morning. And, I'm not talking a teaspoon or tablespoon of the stuff. We are talking half a mason jar full that I watched in amazement as she sipped it like sweet tea every morning. Mrs. Bonnie was way ahead of the times and trends. OR, she was just a hippy(ie). <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8YyqjMI9WQ-_L55CnPfsw6NLxWpxSM8Gl4F1Z1AgV-DwsBeqJPb3I-vco5zI0CYTe0bwozU-6HNw541UXX-7JiNldqS8rh_mWMp_CC_5-WIzAp3EpiUPIHLtuI-JhVEYQfdd0V6YaVyYN/s1600/benifits-of-apple-cider-vinager.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="628" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8YyqjMI9WQ-_L55CnPfsw6NLxWpxSM8Gl4F1Z1AgV-DwsBeqJPb3I-vco5zI0CYTe0bwozU-6HNw541UXX-7JiNldqS8rh_mWMp_CC_5-WIzAp3EpiUPIHLtuI-JhVEYQfdd0V6YaVyYN/s640/benifits-of-apple-cider-vinager.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.luxurybeautybar.com/benefits-of-apple-cider-vinegar/" target="_blank">source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Today marks the first day of my hippy(ie) medicine trial. I am going to try it out for a month and see if I notice any benefits at all. I will let you know!<br />
<br />
At the end of the month, if the eczema continues with little sign of improvement, I am going to try something drastic and heartbreaking. I am going to remove dairy completely from my diet for an entire month. When I went gluten-free back in March, I was hoping/praying/wishing that not only would my stomach problems clear up but that my eczema would as well. No luck. I have read lots of places that dairy can be the culprit. I really hope that isn't the case, because I would totally marry cheese and run away with it to some faraway land to raise little cheese babies. Fo-real.<br />
<br />
DISCLAIMER: <i>I do not in any way endorse/suggest/recommend that anyone else attempt these hippy(ie) medicines. Please contact your medical doctor before attempting either of the above. And, don't tell him/her that I told you to do it!</i><br />
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<b>-b</b>Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-77445130858917822322013-08-09T10:15:00.001-07:002013-08-09T10:15:54.916-07:00Saying Yes and RecipesDear readers, I have been so good at <a href="http://thecapandbrichronicles.blogspot.com/2013/07/quarter-life-crisis.html" target="_blank">saying yes </a>this week! (Disclaimer: I've only technically said it twice and one of these was more of me just doing my duty rather than saying yes, but I'm getting there!)<br />
<br />
Although it has been another hell-week for me at work, I have tried my darndest to not let that interfere with life after 5. I probably royally sucked that up on Monday and Tuesday. In fact, I KNOW I did. I was pouty and miserable Monday--not to mention hungry. I mean, for real, do not mess with me when I'm hungry. Monday was yet another day when The Universe decided to work against me. I got an email about professional life stuff that was more than disappointing--it was kind of heartbreaking. The printer delivered 700 invitations ($1,100 worth!)--700 INCORRECT invitations. I needed these invitations the next day so that the 10 volunteers I had scheduled to show up would have something to stuff in the 700 envelopes that were correct. (It all worked out in the end.) And something else happened, but I think I erased it permanently from memory, so you are spared that grief. I got home ready to commiserate but W had had a pretty rough day, too. And after a solid 10 days of him waking up at 4am, I decided to cut him some slack, plastered on a happy face and made him some southern delicacies.<br />
<br />
We're talking white rice, cayenne pepper fried porkchops (I use brown rice flour #GFbaby), stewed zucchini and onions and corn on the cob. He was a happy man.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHEFjANcTKyC0PSRsYRA44CxuitlOSW-3mIO6EGbMjenrog8OmH41AaM4n-WLRVnnn9gsev2W7_TbU93HGsgfu1lo9NeS2rnubBWzPQSZFH7bPsHEkmT4GHNDO8evxmJXuVKagzjhiO4NY/s1600/image_3.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHEFjANcTKyC0PSRsYRA44CxuitlOSW-3mIO6EGbMjenrog8OmH41AaM4n-WLRVnnn9gsev2W7_TbU93HGsgfu1lo9NeS2rnubBWzPQSZFH7bPsHEkmT4GHNDO8evxmJXuVKagzjhiO4NY/s640/image_3.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fuzzy, but cuuuuuute!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Tuesday royally sucked. There's nothing like having to deal with crappy neighbors whose trees keep falling on your property. These neighbors also happen to be the (<span style="font-size: x-small;">boy scouts</span>), so you think trees and nature and destroying things would be right up there alley. <i>Apparently not</i>. Then, I had to spend all day with a bunch of women, who are great, really, but sometimes a bit much. My brain was mush and I'd been treated like a dumb intern all day rather than the ED that they pay me to be. So, I was little on edge and very cranky. Also: HUNGRY.<br />
<br />
W and I decided our favorite Mexican would be a nice cure. He was sort of right. It was good and filling, but I sort of kept up the pouting for the rest of the night.<br />
<br />
Wednesday was pretty much a repeat of Tuesday, except when W got home at 5:30, he said: We are going on a boat ride. Let's go.<br />
<br />
And I saluted, "Aye, aye!" And went to change. The boat ride was lovely. It was overcast and moody. Sometimes, there's just nothing better than moody mountains. I fit right in! Y'all, I probably would have foregone the boat ride. I wasn't feeling very fit for human interaction, but I faked it like a champ. Windblown hair and windburned cheeks made me happy that its still summer even though all anyone can talk about is fall. And, I'm like, people!?! We just got here!! Don't you remember the winter that lasted through the first week of April? Let's leave summer alone. We've still got a month and a half left!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4aVmI6ybOgfFMuR8fyuuqCaF0cp7B56_HIyrThbHSZNa6ZGO9Pn7cn5FzGvR-l_m4gZISo8QbUOgXP3_nfhbwHEbqj_XkYAGz1tbVtAxxcNxBY1rJhZeYiTMGdSqEsF5F_Sy3zMLXZfB/s1600/image_5.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4aVmI6ybOgfFMuR8fyuuqCaF0cp7B56_HIyrThbHSZNa6ZGO9Pn7cn5FzGvR-l_m4gZISo8QbUOgXP3_nfhbwHEbqj_XkYAGz1tbVtAxxcNxBY1rJhZeYiTMGdSqEsF5F_Sy3zMLXZfB/s640/image_5.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've been darkening my brows since they are non-existent. I haven't plucked my brows since high school.</td></tr>
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So, my next example isn't really a great one, because it wasn't so much about saying yes as it was about fulfilling my expected Junior League duties. I met with the communication committee last night and it was fun and exciting! I am one of the two newsletter editors, which I love. I am looking forward to my pseudo-leadership role in the league. This is why I joined. Its all about the small groups and committees--that is where you meet people and really connect. Also, I had the <i>brilliant</i>--if I do say so myself--idea to create a grandma meme to attract a younger generation. Who doesn't love memes featuring grandmas?? Tell me, who!?<br />
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Now, I will leave you with some of my favorite recipes. I get asked all the time for recipes, and I've barely talked my lazy ass into sharing them, but I'm feeling motivated right, this, moment. Momentum forward!<br />
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<u>French Lentils</u><br />
I made this up but it is based on an actual recipe that I tweeked a bit. These are delish!<br />
Dice up (small--not fine) one small onion, 1-2 carrots and one celery stalk. (Celery isn't my favorite, so I only do one. You could do as much or little of both of these as you want.)<br />
Mince one clove of garlic.<br />
Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a dutch oven.<br />
Sautee without browning the onion, carrots and celery until soft. 5-10 minutes depending on how you like your veg/how high your burner is.<br />
Add the garlic for the last minute of sauteeing the veg.<br />
While the veg is sauteeing, rinse 1.5 cups of lentils (I used green but you can use whatever) in very hot water. You can even bring water to a boil, take it from the heat and throw in the lentils for a few minutes. I'm not sure what this does, but I find the lentils done this way don't hurt my stomach as much.<br />
Once the lentils have been rinsed/soaked and your veg have sauteed, throw the lentils in with the veg and sautee for a minute.<br />
Add 1/3 cup red wine. (DO THIS. ITS THE BEST PART. NO QUESTION.)<br />
Stir around.<br />
Add 4-6 cups of chicken broth, a sprig of thyme and a bay leaf, salt and pepper.<br />
Bring to a boil. Reduce to simmer. Simmer 15-20 minutes until desired tenderness.<br />
Holy Moly. I eat it like a soup. YUM. Enjoy!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8_UZ2B3UL2j4tPlqlyrFBOc11fcah9Es5Y7woUma6GuO6cuxJRgB3oXEfXyUBGf3venuPTINNqJskRGb2LaqGM0DKcpebhnajjJ5PGCsyXgiA6Not7cdAtl2GH0SSHCWgePLqxqREyhX/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8_UZ2B3UL2j4tPlqlyrFBOc11fcah9Es5Y7woUma6GuO6cuxJRgB3oXEfXyUBGf3venuPTINNqJskRGb2LaqGM0DKcpebhnajjJ5PGCsyXgiA6Not7cdAtl2GH0SSHCWgePLqxqREyhX/s640/image.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I ate mine with some fresh spinach and shaved parm. Perfect.</td></tr>
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<u>Quick Marinara</u><br />
I think I got this from Gwyneth. Yeah, Paltrow, because we are tight. Not really. I saw it on <a href="http://www.goop.com/" target="_blank">goop</a>, but I don't think I make it exactly like her's.<br />
You need as many tomatoes as sauce you want to make.<br />
For a single serving (which I made quickly for lunch one day), I used a large orange/yellow heirloom tomato that I chopped roughly.<br />
I diced up 1/4 of a medium onion and minced a small clove of garlic.<br />
I heated up 1 tablespoon of olive oil and sauteed the garlic and onion for a few minutes. Don't brown them.<br />
Then, I threw in some crushed red pepper flakes, a dash or two of dried oregano and then the chopped tomato.<br />
I let it all sautee about 5-8 minutes until the tomatoes started to break down.<br />
Then, I tossed in my al-dente (GF) pasta and let it soak up the yummy goodness for a minute or 2.<br />
Then I tossed in some chopped basil, salt and pepper.<br />
I garnished it with a few slices of yummy mozzarella and some parmesan cheese. (Garnish with cheese off the heat so it doesn't separate.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUikBhAWPOrIw9iIyeum9ozRSuRtpNfrFbkFLnpwXyoyIGYDKKh3Rx_-a39R9vc93lJGWTlUEdG1EfSEmdl2qYZpzeZIyTe31jFri_2soJFfEAJasvmKTdyg_mIvGyomDSSPl3oobUgnab/s1600/image_1.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUikBhAWPOrIw9iIyeum9ozRSuRtpNfrFbkFLnpwXyoyIGYDKKh3Rx_-a39R9vc93lJGWTlUEdG1EfSEmdl2qYZpzeZIyTe31jFri_2soJFfEAJasvmKTdyg_mIvGyomDSSPl3oobUgnab/s640/image_1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Target has the best GF noodles--their Archer Farms brand.</td></tr>
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<u>Stewed Tomatoes </u><br />
Roughly chop 4-5 (or however much you want to make) large red (or heirloom) tomatoes. Place the tomatoes and 3-4 tablespoons of butter in a pan. Stew on medium heat (so they are bubbling) for 45-60 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add a dash or two of sugar. ENJOY. With rice. On top of butter beans. On toast. On bread. On eggs. On grits. ON EVERYTHING.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNrZPuNaOiZL5gEwNSj04vhEPpVVXO05q0H8D0ou_2pxibA4oxTd90NE-lIYIG3tYOGNUe4juIUPRLGau429ccK-95tCkglcKs4XciSA4Mzc4o8L5ROKUEL4nhB9TJC_NlPGQ33ztKmp2/s1600/image_4.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNrZPuNaOiZL5gEwNSj04vhEPpVVXO05q0H8D0ou_2pxibA4oxTd90NE-lIYIG3tYOGNUe4juIUPRLGau429ccK-95tCkglcKs4XciSA4Mzc4o8L5ROKUEL4nhB9TJC_NlPGQ33ztKmp2/s640/image_4.jpeg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beginnings of the best stewed tomatoes ever.</td></tr>
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You need to make <a href="http://tastykitchen.com/recipes/canning/candied-jalapenos-cowboy-candy/" target="_blank">these</a> IMMEDIATELY. They are called Cowboy Candy. They are jalapenos that you pickle in sugar. They are firey hot but sweet at the same time. Incredible. We like to eat them on crackers with cream cheese.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqVxjn8l85MMMzHocbBtQkp50MujbkkZHGrIBiFRIapHBp2xO6vly9gvLn549y6O274EHMwtK_E-yFVgz1kmw4oJA9eP7_aqMaVJhPRUUGCG5CiQsL5Zzx9lureevlV1gUow4zb3lDKv4J/s1600/image_2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqVxjn8l85MMMzHocbBtQkp50MujbkkZHGrIBiFRIapHBp2xO6vly9gvLn549y6O274EHMwtK_E-yFVgz1kmw4oJA9eP7_aqMaVJhPRUUGCG5CiQsL5Zzx9lureevlV1gUow4zb3lDKv4J/s640/image_2.jpeg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cowboy Candy above (my mom made them with yellow jalapenos) and cukes with cream cheese, red onion, smoked salmon, dill and lemon below. Hors'devours we had when my parents visited this weekend.</td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/313994/quick-chickpea-curry" target="_blank"><br /></a>
<a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/313994/quick-chickpea-curry" target="_blank">I also made these curried chick peas.</a> Yum.<br />
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And, finally, I leave you with the piece de resistance. <a href="http://clatl.com/atlanta/okra-pancakes/Content?oid=1269253" target="_blank">Scott Peacock's Fried Okra Pancakes.</a> We made this last weekend when my parents were here. W doesn't approve of okra--I know, I swear he isn't southern either--so we made them with grated zucchini. OMG. There is no picture because they didn't last long enough. BUT MAKE THEM. IMMEDIATELY. And serve them with some Japanese mayo (mayo mixed with sriracha).<br />
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Have a great weekend! I look forward to saying lots of YESES!<br />
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<b>-b</b><br />
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Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-60814396994055172902013-08-06T11:09:00.001-07:002013-08-06T12:03:13.391-07:00Summer Projects First thing's first...<br />
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Girl's Night Out was a huge success! We danced to JT, ate good food, and believe it or not... we actually ran into a few familiar faces. Oh, and if I may say so myself, our dresses made a pretty cute duo.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmRK1jNdAC-nb51k0hShqUu68xUaRfkByz1iownHoXJz6_9zV3KKXvJ37oxnG2IW9NosgYCiC3MmmkOEjRyW3QEgi9Np-exfD8J5URHOVJ-PtN30JdIuxQBHW_ksEtXWSPX9Exaz9xrfK/s1600/1001395_10102469950042345_1011955414_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmRK1jNdAC-nb51k0hShqUu68xUaRfkByz1iownHoXJz6_9zV3KKXvJ37oxnG2IW9NosgYCiC3MmmkOEjRyW3QEgi9Np-exfD8J5URHOVJ-PtN30JdIuxQBHW_ksEtXWSPX9Exaz9xrfK/s640/1001395_10102469950042345_1011955414_n.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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In other news, I've been working on a few projects around the new place, and I thought I would share one. J recently turned an old glider into a tree swing... which made outside time (our favorite) increase drastically. However, with the added outside time being under a tree near a high traffic walking path, it didn't necessarily create the private lawn seating we'd hoped. We still love it, but I decided to make a new seating area closer to the door so we can escape from Code Red and other crazies quicker than two shakes of a lamb's tail. <br />
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(There's a hint to my favorite movie hidden in that last sentence.) :)<br />
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We have two concrete benches on our front stoop that I thought would serve well as a little reading nook. It's also covered... so we could even sit out there during a peaceful drizzle (my favorite reading backdrop). I just needed it to be comfy and cozy, and I had a long way to go!<br />
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Here's the before:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMVr5CIEfAwUXhpEYERxF8SqpApvlICpRhLYqfg_3f0Hb2CEXTtQYCdImc8NpU2ttrJ-4KE1UAW40dAT__jYLV2NHhKy8tXA_0_0KW78MoNq5BUPWhf3TIauOlcIVnhwZlaAKGQjHJCR7/s1600/photo-19.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMVr5CIEfAwUXhpEYERxF8SqpApvlICpRhLYqfg_3f0Hb2CEXTtQYCdImc8NpU2ttrJ-4KE1UAW40dAT__jYLV2NHhKy8tXA_0_0KW78MoNq5BUPWhf3TIauOlcIVnhwZlaAKGQjHJCR7/s640/photo-19.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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I decided to make two cushions for the benches. You may not know this, but memory foam sold in craft stores might as well be gold. It is CRAZY expensive. Luckily, J and I had an old queen size mattress topper we were going to donate to the dumpster (due to the inevitable sink hole it created when two people attempted sleep at the same time). I convinced J to help me measure the benches and cut the foam to fit Saturday. By Saturday evening, I had a new seating area.</div>
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<b>Tools needed:</b></div>
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- an old mattress topper or egg crate</div>
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- outdoor fabric</div>
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-razor blade</div>
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-measuring tape</div>
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-sewing gear</div>
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I'm a bit of a spastic seamstress, so I don't do well with patterns. I just laid the foam on top of the fabric and cut about two inches from the outline. (I needed enough to cover the thickness of the padding, but I still wanted the fabric to be relatively taught.) Once the fabric was cut, I turned it inside out, pinned down the edges, and started sewing. See, spastic. I don't measure with these types of things... I just go for it. As long as I'm only working with basic pillows and such... it normally turns out. Normally. I had both the cushions finished before dinner, and in plenty of time for a little evening enjoyment. By far the quickest, most satisfying project I've ever done.</div>
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I was lucky enough to find this fabric 1/2 off at a local fabric shop in Charleston. I purchased 5 yards for both cushions and two pillows, and I still have left over! The cost for these pretty little things came to a grand total of $33! I'm a happy girl. The benches measured 5ft long and 15 inches deep. This mattress top allowed plenty of foam for both benches, and I even have left over to make the pup a new bed. Score.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgslaL18eauUBfbLqgyH-p-Huq07SERXGXzE6g_COwzucL4C_42WEN_vv9ST72kDoBBCPY2Hs1HgDcI_lZJomu7tbVse-yjS_o0NPVbSjUUjQfHR7OxyU9UoIoP6oC8wlA0iNHtWEbvh5/s1600/photo-24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgslaL18eauUBfbLqgyH-p-Huq07SERXGXzE6g_COwzucL4C_42WEN_vv9ST72kDoBBCPY2Hs1HgDcI_lZJomu7tbVse-yjS_o0NPVbSjUUjQfHR7OxyU9UoIoP6oC8wlA0iNHtWEbvh5/s640/photo-24.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puppy helped out a little, too!</td></tr>
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The Afters:</div>
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I added a new door mat, succulents, and even made a few pillows to match.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuez5U411xuFH-4bCMCO-GCdRJvNtOWgixp_TlxzxRZbPIJOHP0UngJ8ArTHfSyHTSvt7rNL8IUuR8rPufJy0otLuYQCAc5cAPM5b4XoEzjYb2xcCdNcabYIlkIPT4vz0kT1oVzwHtpBx/s1600/photo-20.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuez5U411xuFH-4bCMCO-GCdRJvNtOWgixp_TlxzxRZbPIJOHP0UngJ8ArTHfSyHTSvt7rNL8IUuR8rPufJy0otLuYQCAc5cAPM5b4XoEzjYb2xcCdNcabYIlkIPT4vz0kT1oVzwHtpBx/s640/photo-20.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The yellow fabric is from an old embroider skirt I had! Talk about repurposed goods.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuez5U411xuFH-4bCMCO-GCdRJvNtOWgixp_TlxzxRZbPIJOHP0UngJ8ArTHfSyHTSvt7rNL8IUuR8rPufJy0otLuYQCAc5cAPM5b4XoEzjYb2xcCdNcabYIlkIPT4vz0kT1oVzwHtpBx/s1600/photo-20.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVuNYmIbnJpQVpGKX430apiHAXSAXjuBpLciqTq1Mt76VV4oXjV8BLq5KoeX8FD00bSjSOZJPn7iddfJozpTtLdeLcIe-HEAotpxrgQm2ovA58wPwvGsI01kHFzVA0tabKJrWAlTZqMSyF/s1600/photo-21.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVuNYmIbnJpQVpGKX430apiHAXSAXjuBpLciqTq1Mt76VV4oXjV8BLq5KoeX8FD00bSjSOZJPn7iddfJozpTtLdeLcIe-HEAotpxrgQm2ovA58wPwvGsI01kHFzVA0tabKJrWAlTZqMSyF/s640/photo-21.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Isn't it cozy out there! Now, I just need to convince the landlord to pressure wash the front of the house. I'm also working on sewing a flag for the front post... I'll keep you updated on that project as it progresses. :)</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdzvqu9WvuHlq4xp0Iuqir-5oHMiW6wE6NvwiQgqDytkaAyeW8_fAHfaQITsZJIbRLRBwM3Kanj5t_jIoippMNo8XviXn2McnpVTIKv2X0kGsTX1G3AcT-_A-s1-grtKuPId63pcDFulcf/s1600/photo-22.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdzvqu9WvuHlq4xp0Iuqir-5oHMiW6wE6NvwiQgqDytkaAyeW8_fAHfaQITsZJIbRLRBwM3Kanj5t_jIoippMNo8XviXn2McnpVTIKv2X0kGsTX1G3AcT-_A-s1-grtKuPId63pcDFulcf/s640/photo-22.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Late night reading with a fresh pitcher of Sangria</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLeNWsNIiK8lV48gROh3Pugu1DqO3W-ujw3ECvQekPD9eNIawQq0srR4N69aOCEZZAbsc7Ai8TqBk-lHQahu6jKDSBJUUBap87yxqIkLxHhOO1KcGimHtIYhVFtaPJ8JJjXzvmTaKHNY2R/s1600/photo-23.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
I've been spending MAJOR time on my stoop these past few days. It's been in the low 70's/ high 60's in the evenings, and I cannot seem to get enough of the outdoor time.<br />
<br />
Here's a recipe of Sangria that pairs well with the cool summer nights...<br />
<br />
<u>Sangria</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
- 1 bottle of red wine (Whatever you have on hand. I used Pino and mixed in a glass of Malbec)<br />
- 1/2 cup Triple Sec<br />
- 1 peach, diced<br />
- 1 orange, sliced in wedges<br />
- 1 apple, diced<br />
- 1 nectarine, diced<br />
<br />
Let chill for at least an hour, and enjoy! <br />
<br />
Are you working on any summer projects?<br />
<br />
-Cap<br />
<br />Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-50095689927585648372013-08-01T12:51:00.001-07:002013-08-01T12:51:30.269-07:00Come Fly With Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/HmQq6yLe2ww?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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You may recall from our very first <a href="http://thecapandbrichronicles.blogspot.com/2012/08/disclaimer-this-blog-is-not-about.html" target="_blank">post</a> that Bri and I attended a Girl's Night Out party last year. Well, dear readers, the time has come again for yet another Girl's Night Out. Girl's Night is a pretty sweet party that benefits the YWCA, an empowering woman's program here in Charleston. They fight for everything from domestic violence awareness to racial justice and even equal pay! The event was a blast last year, but this year... I'm even more excited to attend. </div>
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The theme is "Come Fly With Me"... 1940's, 50's, and 60's. (yay!)</div>
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Here's a little peek at what I'll be wearing:</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrp2_qozzNbblxhU_Olo307WQwrvw24DaIHQCZagkz9OgqRuwv8L8qT2-4YVcAwhid5hZBE0XahziA4KPnwVHf0o8SqBuN8jIjhIQJgIavgyj0zd5xIlerWbJZXoEni638xjzKKl1I960X/s1600/photo-16.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrp2_qozzNbblxhU_Olo307WQwrvw24DaIHQCZagkz9OgqRuwv8L8qT2-4YVcAwhid5hZBE0XahziA4KPnwVHf0o8SqBuN8jIjhIQJgIavgyj0zd5xIlerWbJZXoEni638xjzKKl1I960X/s640/photo-16.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This emerald green hat dug up from a dusty shelf at the Antique Mall in South Charleston</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQq5XeMMc41cG3ZxgeSPepDKIMs0teTalJH_uGQZbZ7No2Op-9FttHz6o3n-m6CebQ0p2Kn7UFa58yHn0X3mxCGopkOoenDi0Y5RTmgABaOaYMh3MKRx2JJcg67WChVVAuyrXxSdKESQX/s1600/photo-17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQq5XeMMc41cG3ZxgeSPepDKIMs0teTalJH_uGQZbZ7No2Op-9FttHz6o3n-m6CebQ0p2Kn7UFa58yHn0X3mxCGopkOoenDi0Y5RTmgABaOaYMh3MKRx2JJcg67WChVVAuyrXxSdKESQX/s640/photo-17.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's the 50's without clip on's, right?? These were a mere $4 at Bri's favorite shop, Stray Dog Antiques. (I'm still deciding if I want to wear the pin)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90WcgApD_777dm33xUsUdz4J5ebA-f05T4IfM30ECEyhyphenhyphenRZkw2yonO2Zq1Zqpp20J5GnHjsQ21WgO1KVw-430vOlUu87edVR6S5-QjhGyTuEgUnpxOvAOaZTo_01Wl7O_2sRX9_1HP1Gn/s1600/photo-18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90WcgApD_777dm33xUsUdz4J5ebA-f05T4IfM30ECEyhyphenhyphenRZkw2yonO2Zq1Zqpp20J5GnHjsQ21WgO1KVw-430vOlUu87edVR6S5-QjhGyTuEgUnpxOvAOaZTo_01Wl7O_2sRX9_1HP1Gn/s640/photo-18.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Believe it or not, I bought this dress 2 years ago at a thrift store. I had no idea where I would wear it, but it was love at first sight.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6h0q6cRwJRa-r-XquYiPse7RtPd6969AVDzF51P0iKSG2cNwllz57X4nzKqrbSs8MIm_5aQFwkPD4MmJZmmBv9XPHMKReX5p-8_HMoYgFRFAqLxaO6MaVxCp0H4-jIjGHPq87wrN0GW9E/s1600/photo-15.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6h0q6cRwJRa-r-XquYiPse7RtPd6969AVDzF51P0iKSG2cNwllz57X4nzKqrbSs8MIm_5aQFwkPD4MmJZmmBv9XPHMKReX5p-8_HMoYgFRFAqLxaO6MaVxCp0H4-jIjGHPq87wrN0GW9E/s640/photo-15.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm in the process of styling my hair now... Let's hope this roller set makes me look like Betty Draper. </td></tr>
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Here's to fun nights in strange cities! :)<br />
<br />
-CapCap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-82106121758838939682013-07-31T06:24:00.001-07:002013-07-31T06:24:42.847-07:00Quarter-Life CrisisI am technically a year late for this--well, a year and a half to be precise, but who's counting? NOT ME, obviously. Case in point:<br />
<br />
During a conversation with Cap and J a week or so ago, I said, "I mean I'm 26 years old for crying out loud!" Or, something along those lines and I was instantly struck by an icy chord of fear.<br />
<br />
"Wait," I said, turning to Cap. "I'm 26, right?"<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">{This song was my jam about, oh, fifteen years ago! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">And is very fitting for this story. Play it in the background</span>!}</span></div>
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She looked at me like the idiot that I <strike>am</strike> was.<br />
<br />
"Um, yeah," she said.<br />
<br />
"How old are <i>you</i>?" I asked accusingly, still not quite believing it.<br />
<br />
"25," she said. "You're 26." <i>DUMMY</i> is I'm sure a word she would have liked to add to the end of that statement.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_NCZdPc7sRRcCFIPjjSsx8ifDRbh2N6dkMWuh3FBwCOM1ja3sWzOIYihnh6r0GLOUUWi-e-MsL7ltoiQW9v6f59uB-Yr78XM7rOg9jvXSpDlKk-o990UWoIDoooD32SRrg0lS3bMl0Vw/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_NCZdPc7sRRcCFIPjjSsx8ifDRbh2N6dkMWuh3FBwCOM1ja3sWzOIYihnh6r0GLOUUWi-e-MsL7ltoiQW9v6f59uB-Yr78XM7rOg9jvXSpDlKk-o990UWoIDoooD32SRrg0lS3bMl0Vw/s640/photo+1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Circa-1970 dress found at the flea market for $15 that I will wear to a fundraiser with Cap on Thursday! </td></tr>
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Do you ever do this?<br />
<br />
I always think I am 22. <u>ALWAYS.</u><br />
<br />
Sure, <a href="http://thecapandbrichronicles.blogspot.com/2013/05/bs-26.html" target="_blank">I just celebrated my 26th birthday a short 2.5 months ago</a>, but in my mind, I am perpetually 22.<br />
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And, when put on the spot about how old I am, I always have to think--like think <i>really</i> hard to remember.<br />
<br />
<i>I'm 22. No, that was 2009. This is 2013. That makes me...... ummm....... OH. Twenty-freaking-six. GOD. Now, I'm depressed. Wait, is that right? No, I'm not 26. 1987 subtracted from 2013 is...... DAMN. I </i><b>am</b><i> 26.</i><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eYSoQD-ZkANWLq3qV18u6x-wvvcB7YTkLnEqkDM4KE_-2EZaZ0kkW6A9K45WJUIOs772zOWGc1cSBH7WIB7Gjr4yqtpvZwqO6Z2yug4zSD0mNQ7R17ncuav-T6E4Och5cMJzv1U1Y3mI/s1600/photo+2.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eYSoQD-ZkANWLq3qV18u6x-wvvcB7YTkLnEqkDM4KE_-2EZaZ0kkW6A9K45WJUIOs772zOWGc1cSBH7WIB7Gjr4yqtpvZwqO6Z2yug4zSD0mNQ7R17ncuav-T6E4Och5cMJzv1U1Y3mI/s640/photo+2.PNG" width="638" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The gorgeous 1920s cameo W gave me for our fourth anniversary. He done good.</td></tr>
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I am sure this is a clinically diagnosable psychological something or other. I am sure there is a medication for it, too. <i> </i><br />
<br />
<i>Xanax for the emotionally-uptight, touchy-feely-intolerant, one-woman pih-ty pahr-ty, anyone?? Hmm??</i><br />
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I'm not really sure of the significance of the age of 22. I turned 22 three days after graduating college. I married W 2.5 months into being 22. I moved in with W at 22. I had to get a real job at 22--although I really didn't. (My real job as Executive Director of an historical society and museum came at the ripe old age of 23. I know, I thought they were crazy for hiring me, too!)<br />
<br />
There's just something about 22, and I'm stuck on it. <br />
<br />
But, now, 2.5 months into being 26 and what do I have to show for it?<br />
<br />
Some pretty gnarly tan lines from my battles with the spray-on sunscreen and my week at the beach.<br />
A mad case of poison ivy from weeding the garden at work.<br />
A huge, stinky pile of self-loathing for myself and my "work."<br />
A 2 lb. weight loss due to the previously mentioned huge, stinky pile of self-loathing. I'll take it.<br />
Endless day dreams of my perfect job falling from the heavens and flattening me like an unlucky frog victim to a mac truck in the middle of a steamy highway.<br />
(Most likely) in-vain planning of a trip to Greece in May since W and I will most likely not have the time <i>or</i> the money to experience one of our dream vacations for another, oh, five to ten years.<br />
A mild bout of depression about how incredibly stagnant my professional and social life have become in the last two years. Things were looking up, up, up during that first year in WV. Sadly, I've plateaued.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBSbeihi3g0qUBQXdSfWrvJhyphenhyphenRrj_PJ1lXSHJ88VF83vuQeh4n1xsTgOkQ1qYz7hs8IwKl-qfL5EgO68GbdSJvnRxei7KpWNWJH6Kjn993rrjN4FNCm7KkJzZE1yplS1gTxZggqFxO7NG7/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBSbeihi3g0qUBQXdSfWrvJhyphenhyphenRrj_PJ1lXSHJ88VF83vuQeh4n1xsTgOkQ1qYz7hs8IwKl-qfL5EgO68GbdSJvnRxei7KpWNWJH6Kjn993rrjN4FNCm7KkJzZE1yplS1gTxZggqFxO7NG7/s640/photo+3.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My incredible anniversary dinner: petite filet and prawn. YUM.</td></tr>
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Wow. That turned depressing fast.<br />
<br />
Enter: Quarter-life Crisis.<br />
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What does it mean?<br />
<br />
For me, right now, it means:<br />
<br />
1. Not saying no.<br />
2. Being spontaneous.<br />
3. Taking risks.<br />
4. Dreaming big.<br />
5. NO MORE FREAKING EXCUSES.<br />
<br />
I hope the 23 year olds I met in Junior League will take another chance on me and call me to drink beer with them at the Pittsburgh farm team baseball games. Because, this gluten-free, 26-year-old, museum professional <b>WILL</b> drink some gluten and <b>WILL</b> heckle some baseball players. Granted, the first time I went with them, I stalked the concessions looking for white wine while they drank dollar beer from cups that fill from the bottom (!!).<b> I KNOW</b>. I would like to go back in time and tell myself to shut the eff up and go put on some gosh darn shorts, woman. Y'all, I wore a white button down polo shirt and coral ankle pants and flats. <i>AND, </i>one of them had to explain SnapChat to me. GOD. WHAT HAVE I BECOME. No wonder they never call anymore.<br />
<br />
Its now or never. I've got 11 more months of limbo. AKA: FOURTH YEAR MEDICAL SCHOOL HELL. And, I am just not content to sit here and let it creep insignificantly by as I count down the days to the rest of my life. Who wants to live like that anyways? Always watching the calendar, the clock, your life tick, tock by. Its maddening. And, I've had enough.<br />
<br />
So, here's to a dirty house, full days and adventure!<br />
<br />
I will keep you posted as I try to quickly climb my way out of this slump.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjBtkZT198z-uUTkrSzR9r_Sio_wwVzUgD4rs50eRkGfemdhHGHu0sgSdsm6R8pDf53z_pkdrvGoKUjgatB8dgT4JinM32e_RamkVVFPXS8tYmSTVdO4d4I0qIU3fJnGpYyLSqJsu9_863/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjBtkZT198z-uUTkrSzR9r_Sio_wwVzUgD4rs50eRkGfemdhHGHu0sgSdsm6R8pDf53z_pkdrvGoKUjgatB8dgT4JinM32e_RamkVVFPXS8tYmSTVdO4d4I0qIU3fJnGpYyLSqJsu9_863/s640/photo+4.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cap and I have braved the county pool two Sundays in a row!</td></tr>
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<i>Quarter-life crises: Do they really exist? Discuss.</i><br />
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<b>-b</b><i> </i>Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-61469098391111172772013-07-30T07:34:00.001-07:002013-07-30T07:50:45.316-07:00Dodging the Dog LadyLast night I found myself peeking out my window before going outside, scoping out the cross street before rounding the corner, and skipping out on quality outside time in 70 degree weather. <br />
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This is not like me. I normally take the road most traveled, or the one with the most people currently walking so that I can "<i>casually</i>" bump into someone and strike up a useless conversation in hopes of expanding the friend circle from one (Bri) to two (anyone). So why am I dodging interaction and gorgeous weather you may ask??<br />
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<div>
My puppy Mose has made a new friend in the neighborhood, and by new friend I mean he's found another dog to take advantage of sexually while barking loud and obnoxiously in our front yard. Yes, he knows what the ladies like. This new dog is named Misty. She's a Jack Russell with a pimp limp and a typical, CODE RED dog owner. The dog owner does not pick up on the usual social cues such as: </div>
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"Well, we better get going..."</div>
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"Mose is being so loud, I should bring him in so we don't wake our neighbors."</div>
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"I really need to get dinner started."</div>
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"I'm not wearing a bra, so I should probably get out of the street."</div>
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But more importantly, she thinks normal conversations include descriptions of dog poops, fleas, ticks, and dog humping. Now, I understand that I just celebrated my dog's first birthday by cooking him a steak and sweet potatoes #puppiesarepeopletoo, BUT I do know how to appear normal to strangers. I think.</div>
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Yesterday morning, around 7:15 AM our new friend came strolling in front of our house (bra-less herself), and decided to make a pit stop in our front yard so Misty and Mose could have a <s>hump</s> play date. </div>
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I know you're all thinking, </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<i>"This chick just complained for a WHOLE YEAR because she never talked to anyone, and now she's upset about a little CODE RED dog owner?!?!?!" </i>( <i>See:</i> <a href="http://thecapandbrichronicles.blogspot.com/2012/10/hello-boards-goodbye-husband.html" target="_blank">Hello Boards. Goodbye Husband.</a> )</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's more than that. I promise. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You see, I'm not a morning person. I love morning time because it comes with my two favorite things... coffee and silence. I am sincere when say I do not do well with others in the morning. I think there should be a rule in every household that no one speaks until at least 9:00. I'm telling you... this world would be a better place!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, this dog lady. She's invading my silence. She's taking away the joy of my ONLY cup of daily coffee, and more importantly she's replacing it with a big hunk of awkward. After nearly an <b><u>hour</u></b> of standing in my front yard using every excuse I could think of to get away from the humping dogs and Code Red, I literally just walked to my front door and waved goodbye. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So long, manners. (Sorry, Mom)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
To make things worse, J and I were walking the streets yesterday evening and CODE RED came back to the house looking for us while we were gone. Thankfully, Bri sent a warning text...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwAcQppNzcPF0v-jfUjOzmovM3tkNQCEQ65qFGJ0HICfMFQA46oG_fNYrUIVaRcaOJTsGY-2aEIO_lIperL3STmrfbK2bV95HHtkGGmvj50iqJBAJgGkf6-Lc2_aQuS7AjwPSxWJHyfwO/s1600/photo.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwAcQppNzcPF0v-jfUjOzmovM3tkNQCEQ65qFGJ0HICfMFQA46oG_fNYrUIVaRcaOJTsGY-2aEIO_lIperL3STmrfbK2bV95HHtkGGmvj50iqJBAJgGkf6-Lc2_aQuS7AjwPSxWJHyfwO/s640/photo.PNG" width="426" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm so lucky to have a friend/neighbor who understands the severity of this situation.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Upon receiving this text, J and I decided to change our evening stroll route. Bri updated us again with, "She's heading West on Virginia Street", and we were able to SUCCESSFULLY dodge Code Red. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Whew.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
J is currently working on a book of excuses for our next two years here in Charleston with Code Red. He better get busy, I'm ready to enjoy my new swing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZa4uusfrIxuN6MLxfhN1Qo5RR0IhN5ZY2WKguhDRnvjsnWp11F7LoZ_jBqr5pjRd3wKJRkYRd11vJQ7ujGMteq3cf8NW7Tm81d9IjnzhYE8G5oNhKN1uxzZrrk1PgjEYxWUkqe9mkjM7C/s1600/photo-14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZa4uusfrIxuN6MLxfhN1Qo5RR0IhN5ZY2WKguhDRnvjsnWp11F7LoZ_jBqr5pjRd3wKJRkYRd11vJQ7ujGMteq3cf8NW7Tm81d9IjnzhYE8G5oNhKN1uxzZrrk1PgjEYxWUkqe9mkjM7C/s640/photo-14.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Am I alone in this, or do you dodge your neighbors too?<br />
<br />
-Cap</div>
Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-73159769855901306172013-07-15T07:50:00.001-07:002013-07-15T07:50:34.804-07:00When Last We MetI have not forsaken you! Wow, what a busy summer. Everything at my job decided to happen simultaneously in the last three weeks. And, of course, I <i>had</i> to squeeze a week-long vacation to the beach in there. I mean, I <i>just had</i> <i>to</i>.<br />
<br />
I've been running, too! Although not to my training schedule. When Cap and I decided to fore go the August race, my brain decided it didn't need to train hardcore for my November race. Damn, brain, always trying to tell me what to do!<br />
<br />
I have been running 2-3 times a week, 3-4 miles each time and sometimes on the, EEK, treadmill. I've decided to take the next month easy on the whole running outside thing. Its just too dang hot. If I put too much pressure on myself, I am liable to just not run at all. So, if I need to run on the treadmill, that is what I'm going to do.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWSQv-F00CBO7FiNy8U7HV8pCfEy5lCAuFNYPOQeUqdvr43OMqEsMORacF2Lrn5Pk7XpK1fP-UudP64vCQBvglj6I8JGA_qZNRqQ_4qobGnRI-EYIYJpdLvXGOzJ0frUvS-xu6w_FPRlb/s1600/IMG_4516%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWSQv-F00CBO7FiNy8U7HV8pCfEy5lCAuFNYPOQeUqdvr43OMqEsMORacF2Lrn5Pk7XpK1fP-UudP64vCQBvglj6I8JGA_qZNRqQ_4qobGnRI-EYIYJpdLvXGOzJ0frUvS-xu6w_FPRlb/s640/IMG_4516%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My family's adorable beach bungalow.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Its funny, but running on the treadmill is at once easier and harder than running outside. Let's discuss:<br />
<br />
Easier:<br />
<br />
Mentally, yes. Why the treadmill is less daunting than running outside I will never understand, but it is.<br />
<br />
Physically, yes. I've noticed that I am MUCH better at running on the treadmill now. When I first started running back in January, I would run on the treadmill at 5 to 5.5 speed for anywhere from 2.5-4.5 miles at a time. And, it was HARD. Then, I started running outside and it was HARDER. I have been exclusively running outside since. However, with all of this rain, I thought it might be necessary to run on the treadmill on occasion. My pseudo running coach told me a few months ago that if I had to run on the "dreadmill" as he called it, to run at a 1.5-2 incline. Last week, I ran on the treadmill twice for the first time since March. I ran my 3 miles on Tuesday evening outside like a good little girl. Then, on Wednesday, on the TREADMILL, I ran 4 miles at 5.8 speed (that's a 10:20 mile) on a 1.5 incline. That is crazy compared to my previous treadmill experience. I was absolutely drenched in sweat, and was starting to struggle, but was pumped by how easy it was overall. I went back on Friday and ran 3 miles at 6 speed (10 minute mile) on a 2 incline. It felt good! My outside runs have been dreadful. They have just gotten so boring. I think I need to come up with some new routes.<br />
<br />
Harder:<br />
<br />
Mentally, yes. I know I just said it was easier, but it is also harder. I said that, too. Time passes much slower on the treadmill than running outside. HOWEVER, I am much more likely to run on the treadmill than outside on days that I'm feeling lethargic. As I said earlier, its less daunting.<br />
<br />
I don't get it.<br />
<br />
Physically. Its not harder physically, but I seem to be working harder on the treadmill. I sweat about 20 times more on the treadmill. And, my muscles are so much "warmer" afterward. I am incredibly flexible after running on the treadmill. I know there is a reason for this. It seems that treadmill running is more aerobic and running outside is more about muscles? Does this make sense? I am obviously no physicist or biologist/anatomist but it seems that I move more on the treadmill without engaging as much of my muscles. While running outside, I'm moving slower but using more muscles to propel myself.<br />
<br />
Eh. I don't know. I'm terrible at describing the difference, but there is a definite difference.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgypYqDHAqKPq7nvxpH3L_esdK4882m0Aul43YMHTG339SNEpbJKZGWtz8sW6d9fvutkHJ_pbZUqIyhTtL20fWAZ_EBdbmnW9DOXO3aZrZGgObM9hkBjLSoRgslTj47r6axmlQ_pj5uLKK6/s1600/IMG_4620%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgypYqDHAqKPq7nvxpH3L_esdK4882m0Aul43YMHTG339SNEpbJKZGWtz8sW6d9fvutkHJ_pbZUqIyhTtL20fWAZ_EBdbmnW9DOXO3aZrZGgObM9hkBjLSoRgslTj47r6axmlQ_pj5uLKK6/s640/IMG_4620%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">W joined me at the beach for a few days. It was wonderful!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As for my training, I am technically maintaining my <a href="http://thecapandbrichronicles.blogspot.com/2013/06/half-marathon-training-with-b-week-3_17.html" target="_blank">Week 3 status</a>. I could easily run 6 miles if I wanted. My race is on November 9, so that means if I want to keep with my training schedule, I would start at Week 4 on the week of September 8-14. For the meantime, I think I am going to start running 4-5 times a week, 3-5 miles each day. I want to see what that does for my body/weight loss goals until I start back my training.<br />
<br />
I will probably start my training back sooner than September 8. I am still terrified of never achieving that elusive 7 mile run! But, who knows! Maybe, I will get the urge to knock out those 7 miles this weekend. We will see!<br />
<br />
I won't be coming to you once a week with my running updates until I start back with my training. Hopefully, something interesting will happen in the meantime. I mean, Cap and J now live downstairs. We have family dinners lots. Cap and I scored at an Estate Sale this weekend. Okay, interesting things <i>are </i>happening!<br />
<br />
<i>How's your running going? Are you as fickle as me? What do you think about treadmills?</i><br />
<br />
<b>-b</b>Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-86912053996239330922013-07-02T06:46:00.000-07:002013-07-02T06:46:18.581-07:00A Killer Concoction So the big move to Charleston has been relatively easy compared to the other horror stories I've experienced in the past (see <a href="http://thecapandbrichronicles.blogspot.com/2012/08/back-in-burg.html" target="_blank">Back in the Burg</a>). We actually had a moving truck available, and get this... no feline urine odor in our new place. However, WV doesn't have rental laws, and this normally means you move in to a pretty dirty apartment that desperately needs to be painted and<b> </b>dowsed in bleach. The new place is beautiful! It's a large 1920's house that was converted into apartments in the 60's (according to the information sheet left on our refrigerator). So, the meager cleaning and painting are small tasks to endure for the charming apartment Bri helped us find. (It's nice having friends who care about your living quarters as much as you do!)<br />
<br />
Anyway... more on the cleaning. <br />
<br />
I decided our bathroom needed a little hardcore scrubbing. I thought to myself, "<i>Self, what kills everything it touches?</i>" <br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>BLEACH </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>√</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><br /></b></span>
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<br />
Naturally, I listened to myself and started cleaning with bleach (and a little water). Midway through the cleaning, I noticed the bleach was still leaving a yellow color behind on the caulking. So, I thought to myself again, "<i>Self, what is the second strongest chemical that I have in my little OCD cleaning collection?</i>"<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>AMMONIA </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>√</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b><br /></b></span>
I bet if I mix these two bad ass chemicals together I'll create an even bad-ER ass chemical. <i>(This, unfortunately, was my actual thought process)</i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i><b>
COMMON SENSE <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">X</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I put my big girl cleaning gloves back on, pushed my<i> Betty the Riveter</i> sleeves up, put the stopper in the tub, poured a hefty amount of straight bleach, mixed in some ammonia, and started scrubbing.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><br /></b></span><b>
</b><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmCecrD4XmyaY8fR7rUoOKoyYlLsIB6nn6NVacwr0_9ye3BtNqV5cwj8OJnhsxJANJB-7ny9LgTXh8n2SGnuyjcVgEcj556pOSHbnGdzH0rMYG18RDR4Ka91b64CNLroyICROsGYvhHYg_/s1294/betty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmCecrD4XmyaY8fR7rUoOKoyYlLsIB6nn6NVacwr0_9ye3BtNqV5cwj8OJnhsxJANJB-7ny9LgTXh8n2SGnuyjcVgEcj556pOSHbnGdzH0rMYG18RDR4Ka91b64CNLroyICROsGYvhHYg_/s640/betty.jpg" width="494" /></b></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://josephmallozzi.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/rosie_the_riveter1.jpg&imgrefurl=http://showblogs.syfy.com/universe/2009/09/&usg=__k-aGNPGIiZzsRnV8S0ReYKoBXWg=&h=1294&w=1000&sz=355&hl=en&start=1&sig2=aXUZElmZPg8HP4Z7xu1JGw&zoom=1&tbnid=geglEyxz23tS8M:&tbnh=150&tbnw=116&ei=q8nSUc7eOIju9ATm6oHgCQ&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dbetty%2Bthe%2Briveter%26client%3Dsafari%26sa%3DX%26rls%3Den%26hl%3Den%26tbm%3Disch%26prmd%3Divns&itbs=1&sa=X&ved=0CCwQrQMwAA" target="_blank"><b>Source</b></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>This, dear readers, is where it gets hard to continue. Have you ever done something SO embarrassingly stupid that you'd rather it just go unnoticed for the rest of your life so you can keep pretending like you're a smart, educated woman with a good head on her shoulders? </b><br />
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<i>Great! So you understand.</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
I'll break down the series of events (in which I remember) that occurred:</div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<b>11:06 A.M. </b>Once the bleach and ammonia were married together in my bathtub, my eyes instantaneously started pouring with water. </div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<b>11:09 A.M. </b>Being that I'm allergic to nearly everything... I convinced myself this was just my individual reaction to these chemicals, and that I should most definitely keep cleaning for the better good of the bathtub. <i>Think of Betty, Cap!</i></div>
<div>
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div>
<b>11:10 A.M. </b>I kept cleaning.</div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
<b>11:13 A.M.</b> My throat started to burn when I would breath over the tub, so I began taking big breaths away from the tub, putting my shirt's collar over my mouth, and YES, you guessed it, SCRUBBING MORE!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME, AND WHY DO I HAVE A PSYCHO OBSESSION AND AN INTENSE DESIRE FOR A WHITE BATHTUB?!</b> </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>11:15 A.M</b> FINALLY, when I started coughing uncontrollably, became a little light headed, and started to feel like I was going to throw up in the bathtub..... I stopped cleaning.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>11:16 A.M.</b> I ran out of the bathroom, Googled "ammonia poisoning" (At this point, I still didn't realize it was from mixing bleach and ammonia, but rather just from using too much ammonia). It was here when I read in bold print:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">"WARNING: NEVER MIX AMMONIA AND BLEACH. THIS CREATES A VAPOR KNOW AS CHLORAMINE THAT CAN BE <u>DEADLY</u>."</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
And that was when I realized I'd just started the slow killing process of myself and my innocent bystander puppy. The crime tape would be wrapped around my apartment bathroom shortly, and the headline would read, "Medical student's wife kills herself and their 11 month old puppy".<br />
<br />
<i>Okay, maybe I exaggerate a smidgen.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I called everyone I knew that either had a background in chemistry or OCD cleaning.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
NO ONE ANSWERED.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I called everyone AGAIN.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Finally, my smart friend answered.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
CATHERINE! YOU CANNOT MIX THOSE TOGETHER. YOU WILL MELT YOUR LUNGS!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sweet. Melted lungs, but a clean bathroom. Score! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(kidding)</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<u><b>Epilogue:</b></u></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Other than losing my self worth and wishing I would have paid more attention in my chemistry class... I'm okay. After a frantic Facebook post to warn friends of the "unknown dangers" of mixing chemicals together, I realized a few things:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A. I'm actually not the only person who has done this. (though that doesn't help my lungs)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
B. If you mix vinegar and Dawn together, let it sit for 30 mins, and scrub onto yellowed caulking and grout... It actually whitens without melting important organs.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, hopefully you've learned a valuable lesson through my ignorance. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You're welcome.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-Cap</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-24367637215982516342013-07-01T06:48:00.001-07:002013-07-01T07:08:45.281-07:00Well hello, 3rd year!<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
It's official. I've survived two years in Lewisburg, two years of being a student doctor's wife, four interesting moves, and best of all.... Step 1 of BOARDS! Life is good.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
These past two years have made me realize medical school is an awful lot like how my mature and awesome girlfriends describe giving birth. In one of my girlfriend's exact words, "<i>Don't let anyone lie to you, Cap. Giving birth is not beautiful. It freaking sucks! But when it's all over, it's worth it</i>."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
To celebrate the delivery of third year, J and I went on a mini vacay to my favorite place... <i>home</i>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Here's some of the fun we had while we were there:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnrTsjs2m_X75d7CyRDQjBzqFT309vLnVj65rKNYc8GIlUg9T8lpgRBVNBKNMmMBQ3Z3db3SHPQrI2btnAdbQbpoEtzSnkaLjWiDm9ndphPVeIUZLyM8mFw0zX43aDpifjmLbMswZtATFT/s640/photo-11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnrTsjs2m_X75d7CyRDQjBzqFT309vLnVj65rKNYc8GIlUg9T8lpgRBVNBKNMmMBQ3Z3db3SHPQrI2btnAdbQbpoEtzSnkaLjWiDm9ndphPVeIUZLyM8mFw0zX43aDpifjmLbMswZtATFT/s640/photo-11.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Long drives are fun for the first 10 hours... after that, puppy starts to break my heart. However, they get you home. Thus, they are still FUN! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walked through acres of cotton fields with my sister in search for peace, tranquility, and "Gary the Gator".</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrated the marriage of this beautiful bride and her sweet cotton farmer.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Showed the Crigler's the crazy years of marriage they have to look forward to...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snuck into a Mississippi bar in our bridesmaid gear AKA Risky Business Style. (I later had to meet up with my grandparents, and my grandfather whispered to me secretly, "Cap, did you forget your pants?")</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Margs and girl talk.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA2QAuBD4bV5amvE3Iysg13-DGK6yvdC89bZoq3e9OyG7QSvwCtwDrlavo02bzmegV1Z9-sPlhC5yPGcIOF_765FQ06e3aoOb9SipuMXeeU8gZwUK9M-CNNYUYFlVqvuaqmcjs5znzy8Kd/s480/photo-8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA2QAuBD4bV5amvE3Iysg13-DGK6yvdC89bZoq3e9OyG7QSvwCtwDrlavo02bzmegV1Z9-sPlhC5yPGcIOF_765FQ06e3aoOb9SipuMXeeU8gZwUK9M-CNNYUYFlVqvuaqmcjs5znzy8Kd/s640/photo-8.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wore my beautiful perfume button necklace my mother gave me.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvox8QCc-zlbKlOR8MagSPjrrRkFPsID5EQy4Ss1A8VTxsGW-HWUAIEV_KPbuO87mu7JY8EPP6roKSbQuL6hSXbunUxk4c_u2FWk-TWwZ3rj70Qjs_mRz7bsAjzGhNQQPCBwlfk2NG-cz_/s640/photo-9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvox8QCc-zlbKlOR8MagSPjrrRkFPsID5EQy4Ss1A8VTxsGW-HWUAIEV_KPbuO87mu7JY8EPP6roKSbQuL6hSXbunUxk4c_u2FWk-TWwZ3rj70Qjs_mRz7bsAjzGhNQQPCBwlfk2NG-cz_/s640/photo-9.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thought about sneaking this back to WV in my suitcase. ;)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spent the most wonderful night with my beautiful grandmother. We sang old Doris Day tunes, played Skip Bo, and snuck coffee and chicken and dumplings into the room. </td></tr>
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Going home is always fun, and driving back to WV is normally <i>really really really</i> depressing. But this time, I had the beautiful thought of moving to Charleston, and the hope of a grand third year to keep me cheered up. Life here under B and W is already perfect. I'll post more soon on the move, my new neighbors, and my kitchen's transformation. <br />
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Are you making big moves this summer?<br />
<br />
-Cap<br />
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<br />Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-73560440969920179922013-06-19T08:32:00.001-07:002013-06-19T11:48:12.898-07:00B is Running a Race on SaturdayGuys, it looks like I am skipping out on my regularly-scheduled-running-training-schedule to do a race on Saturday. That means that, yes, once again, I will <i>not</i> be doing my 7 mile run. I feel like I have hit a real low point in my training, and I think this race will be the perfect thing to get me out of my slump. Nothing gets the adrenaline pumping like a race. Race times tend to be much faster than regular run times. I need that satisfaction right now. Its fascinating and invigorating and motivating and just exactly what this girl needs right now!<br />
<br />
It is a pretty easy run--just 5 miles--but most of it is uphill. It will be a challenge for me since I only run on flat ground (except for that one minor bridge I occasionally pound up and down). I wish that I had someone to run it with me, but alas, Cap is living it up with her family and friends in LA and will most likely be moving that weekend. MOVING INTO THE APARTMENT DIRECTLY BELOW US. YEAH! (More to come on that.) I will be selfishly running but have promised to help in any way I can. I will especially help in the feeding department. I love an excuse to break out the charcoal!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOVOXPLHJj2qe5QU24sh8W3l5MSoeZ57lFoR-xOJLYDNZ9U43EYwKuQZ476rOHA7J9RKv9LJ8ICqA5aUHuQOJhil1w7dmEUyoxLcNl-7NeYRxkrbM4h-CQ1UuAi2PvoNv4_UOfvOhC3_SS/s1600/IMG_4411%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOVOXPLHJj2qe5QU24sh8W3l5MSoeZ57lFoR-xOJLYDNZ9U43EYwKuQZ476rOHA7J9RKv9LJ8ICqA5aUHuQOJhil1w7dmEUyoxLcNl-7NeYRxkrbM4h-CQ1UuAi2PvoNv4_UOfvOhC3_SS/s640/IMG_4411%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovers and W's ham-hock calves. He <i>wishes</i> they were that big in real life.</td></tr>
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Back to running:<br />
<br />
I will try to stick to my regular daily runs this week, although I may switch up the order. We shall see. I had caffeine-induced insomnia last night and after I finally fell asleep, was rudely awakened by W puffing steamy breaths directly into my face. I am your typical morning grump, but when things like wayward breathing by others directly up your nostrils and rogue limbs rubbing up against you in the night and startling muscle twitches that leave the whole bed vibrating wake me up, I am meaner than a snake. It took all of my willpower to not smoosh (not so much a word as a very accurate description of what it would look and most likely sound like) W's face away so that I wasn't in his puffy breathing flight path. But instead of getting physical, I just sighed and grunted a few good times and turned over with as much bounce and force as I could. Of course, he remained undisturbed. <i>I'm so glad..</i><br />
<br />
So, OF COURSE, my morning run was derailed. But, not to fret, I plan to get in my 3 miles this afternoon. Its just that I have my final event tomorrow (Thursday) before I scramble, bags in hands, and squealing in glee up the mountain to the airport for my week-long vacay on June 29. So, I'm feeling a bit tense and stressed and am worried about getting in my runs. BUT, hello, my last event until AUGUST?!?!?! For real?! And a week on the beach in my favorite state with my favorite people?!!?<br />
<br />
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!<br />
<br />
Thank God Cap and I have decided to not do the Eerie, PA run in August. I just don't think I would be ready. Because, also disrupting my training schedule will be my week-long vacay to the beach, June 29-July 6. At this point, I plan to keep up my daily runs, but am still considering what to do about my long run. Stay tuned.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQczwnObV22_Lg4pY2kCNaBM23Fsd9X2Wq6bvHbfBd2JKVx_-OYqXRPhqACr0YylBBBcfoA_a7y6bnyfE8jm9FvLqHqrcBfp6mWbafJ-CvEzh4mM3H3QL1jZNQAf3tyB_4Ul-3kywsNWAw/s1600/IMG_4392%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQczwnObV22_Lg4pY2kCNaBM23Fsd9X2Wq6bvHbfBd2JKVx_-OYqXRPhqACr0YylBBBcfoA_a7y6bnyfE8jm9FvLqHqrcBfp6mWbafJ-CvEzh4mM3H3QL1jZNQAf3tyB_4Ul-3kywsNWAw/s640/IMG_4392%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A "collection" left behind by a four-year-old little girl on the steps of my museum.</td></tr>
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On another running note, I feel like I have turned into a bit of a running snob, yet I still don't consider myself "a runner". I was mindlessly perusing some blogs the other day and ran across this one post by a blogger who is training for her first 5k. (Which is awesome! And is why I immediately felt like the biggest JERK and SNOB ever because of my first thoughts that I let spew forth on an unsuspecting and <i>morally-incorruptible</i> W.) She was talking about the immediate need to poop once your start on a run. I understand this. I had the same fear of "pooping myself" when I first began on this journey back in January. But that, <i>ahem</i>, urge and fear soon went flying out the window as my body became accustomed to running. I do realize that a lot of long distance runners have issues with their bowels suddenly emptying mid-run, but I didn't think it was something with which beginners or short-distance runners struggled. I know that my issue disappeared after the first week or two.<br />
<br />
So anyways, I decided to read a few more of her running posts and found that she had just started her training (like maybe a few weeks ago) and was planning to run her first 5k in September.<br />
<br />
And I was all, "Oh my Good Lord, really, lady? You need 3 months to train for a 5k? THREE MONTHS!?"<br />
<br />
I turned to W at my last exclamation with a look of utter incredulity. I stared piercingly into his eyes to convey my exasperation at someone needing 3 months to build up to a 3 mile run. He so wasn't getting my vibes.<br />
<br />
"What's wrong with that?" W asked.<br />
<br />
"Its three months! That means an increase of ONE MILE <i>a month</i>. That's like <i>really</i> unnecessary," I said, while puffing out my chest, rolling my eyes, throwing back my hair, flexing my calves, and brushing off my shoulders <b>allatonce</b>.<br />
<br />
W rolled his eyes and fixed onto me with his best I-am-an-all-knowing-all-seeing-all-emotionally-supporting-soon-to-be-doctor-of-everyone-who-is-not-you-B stare.<br />
<br />
"Don't be a snob," he said. "You had to start somewhere, too."<br />
<br />
UGH. W. REALLY. STEAL MY THUNDER WHY DON'T YOU.<br />
<br />
<i>Can't you just let me have this one!?</i> I shouted inside my head. I mean, I nearly died on my last run--my last SIX mile run! The only thing that actually kept me running was my very vivid and real hallucination of the Grim Reaper, floating along beside me and holding his homemade "<b>You walk. YOU DIE.</b>" sign that was decorated with skulls and polka dots. <br />
<br />
But he was right. I <i>was</i> being a jerk. And I quickly remembered the summer (2011) that I trained for TWO MONTHS to run my first ever 5k.<br />
<br />
Not only am I a jerk and a snob, but I'm a big fat hypocrite!<br />
<br />
<b>GREAT.</b><br />
<br />
Anyways, I promise to bring you an amusing "Conversations with the Med Student: W Edition, II" post soon, because are you sick and tired of my running posts yet???<br />
<br />
<i>Please tell me you are a snob sometimes, too??</i><br />
<br />
<i>In Charleston, WV and want to run with me? <a href="http://www.festivallcharleston.com/events/charleston-area-medical-center-%E2%80%9Crun-your-life%E2%80%9D-five-mile-race-0" target="_blank">Here's the info!</a> </i><br />
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<b>-b</b><i> </i>Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249155965751209302.post-89056885141801115142013-06-17T11:12:00.000-07:002013-06-19T11:48:23.904-07:00Half-Marathon Training with B: Week 3 RepeatI guess that you can tell from the title that I once again did not conquer the 7 mile run <i>and that would be correct.</i><br />
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I came really close though, but no cigar. Oddly, I wasn't as disappointed in myself as I thought I would be. (So, I hope you aren't either!) Technically, Sunday was the third time that I had run my farthest distance ever in my life. And that (un)lucky number is: 6!<br />
<br />
Let's get right into it, shall we?<br />
<br />
Since I have already screwed up how I am counting these weeks, I am just going to start doing it chronologically and not stick with the training schedule "weeks". I hope its not too confusing. Technically, I was hoping to accomplish Week 4 of the training schedule, but instead, I had a repeat of Week 3. So, what I deemed "Break Week" was actually the fourth week of my journey, making this the fifth week of it.<br />
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<b>Fifth Week (Week 3 Repeat), Day 17: Wednesday, 3 miles</b><br />
For some reason, I can't get my act together during the week before Wednesday. Oh well. So far (except for Break Week) I have maintained my weekly short runs without any issues, so I won't worry about it too much. I also prefer to do my long runs on Sunday as that was my pre-running day of laze, so I just seem to not have as much to do on that day, which makes the long run a little less stressful.<br />
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Again, the 3 mile runs are pretty uneventful. I should probably start working on my times, but I am trying to not put too much pressure on these runs as I still have my low points at about 1.5-2 miles. I tend to be a perfectionist with almost everything in my life, and running is one thing for which I am trying really hard to not be a <i>complete psycho</i>. Not that I find running fun or enjoyable, but its not like it pays the bills or is necessary for life. I'm just trying to be chill about it, you know, <i>because I am so chill at life anyways</i>.<br />
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Highlight of this run: I passed a woman, probably in her mid to late 30s running in the opposite direction about .15 from my 1 mile turnaround (at that turnaround, I have already run 1 mile and it leaves me 1.5 miles to a turn around and .5 back to my house). She was about 50 ft. ahead of me by the time I turned around and she had a pretty good pace going. And all of a sudden, I wanted to beat her so bad. Beat her, as in pass her and leave her in the dust. No violence. Have I mentioned that I am extremely competitive? So, naturally, I start booking it and begin gaining on her. I finally catch up to her after 1.25 miles and pass her and it was the best feeling ever. I turned around after running another .25 and passed her going in the opposite direction. She gave me the biggest smile and a wave, which made me feel even better, because that fast pace had caught up to me and I was struggling to breath for the remaining .5 mile. I wonder if she was smiling in encouragement or enjoyment at my obvious sputtering and struggling. Oh well. It was an accomplishment for me. It was the second time I passed a runner instead of getting passed by one myself!<br />
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<b>Fifth Week (Week 3 Repeat), Day 18: Thursday, 4 miles</b><br />
This run was tough. It was overcast and muggy--not hot but not cool. The clouds were low and dark and swirly and the wind kept whipping my braided pony tail around my face in cold bursts. I thought a tornado might sweep me up at any moment. (Sidenote: I have always had an irrational fear of tornadoes.) So, I was a little distracted and not in a good way. I also was getting a later start than I intended, so was feeling a little stressed. Also, it kept torrential sprinkling (that is so a thing) and stopping and sprinkling and stopping and sputtering and stopping. So, I kept ducking under trees only to have it immediately stop. Then, I'd start back and the sprinkling would start, so I'd sprint to a tree and so on and so on. Exhausting.<br />
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Also, I'm not sure what kinds of struggles I will encounter during my runs but it usually isn't what I expect. I always think it will be an inability to catch my breath that will ultimately cut my runs short, but I am usually just fine aerobically. In fact, sometimes I even close my mouth and breath quite normally through my nose just to prove to myself that it isn't a lack of lung capacity that is causing me to feel like DEATH right then. I then take account of my body to see where I am struggling. Lately, my legs from the knees down, have felt like lead for the majority of my runs. And <i>that</i> is a bummer.<b> </b>I feel like more than anything, the state of my legs, knees and below, dictate how successful or unsuccessful my runs will be.<br />
<br />
Or, its my sheer boredom. I knew this day would come, but dang, running can be SO boring.<br />
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I don't get those people who are like, "It clears my head!" <i> </i><br />
<i>Yeah, because you can't think about anything else except how much it sucks to be running right now! Admit it!</i><br />
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Or, "I get the best ideas on my runs!" <i> </i><br />
<i>Really, because all of my ideas usually feature large amounts of violence or death or just near death experiences.</i><br />
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"I just love all the time I get to think during my runs."<br />
<i>I just can't stop thinking about how much farther I have to go before I can finally stop running. </i><br />
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None of these things are positives for me. All that time in my head just leaves me counting down every tenth of each mile. Do you know how maddening that is?!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5NqTUxviq2n3BUztfxh1jx6dpwQ3bjYwwe2kxF6cXXBGF4gK-w7thVYBn5fSwAFH05kBJMteaqOHeQKEdZd1uINSWkUepzmJkt92TRrw42L5BDm5k3Amf00EFD8jmVYe7porFm_w9UliT/s1600/IMG_4407%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5NqTUxviq2n3BUztfxh1jx6dpwQ3bjYwwe2kxF6cXXBGF4gK-w7thVYBn5fSwAFH05kBJMteaqOHeQKEdZd1uINSWkUepzmJkt92TRrw42L5BDm5k3Amf00EFD8jmVYe7porFm_w9UliT/s640/IMG_4407%5B1%5D.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such a good book! I read it in a day.... yes, one day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>Fifth Week (Week 3 Repeat), Day 19: Friday, 3 miles</b><br />
This run actually included a milestone. I ran my first 8 minute mile! (But don't worry, the remaining 2 miles took me about 23 minutes to complete. I mean, to say that I was dragging it for that last .5 mile would be the understatement of the century.) Right out of the gate, I could tell that I was running fast and I just went with it. I think back to it now and realize that I was flying up the sidewalk.<b> </b>Maybe it was my successful passing of the woman on Wednesday that boosted my confidence or just my muscle memory, but it felt good and natural!<br />
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<b>Fifth Week (Week 3 Repeat), Day 20: Sunday, 6 miles</b><br />
Going into this run, I was determined to make it the 7 miles. And thankfully, my gut agreed with me. I was still a little nervous, but nothing like the previous week. However, I still wasn't feeling all that confident.<br />
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<b>WARNING! TMI Explosion. Leave now if you don't want to hear gross girly, runner stuff. You can come back after this paragraph though. It will be back to its normal G-rating then. </b><i>You've been warned!</i> I was on my period. I have<b> </b>yet to find a sports bra that supports anything, so I double-up on my long runs. I can't wear shorts on my long runs. I'm such a wimp, but the inside of my left thigh chafes. Just the left one. Weird. Cornstarch doesn't work either. I wasn't cramping during my run, but my periods always leave me tired and with a dull headache that persists even through my ibuprofen/tylenol/ibuprofen/tylenol cocktails every 2 hours (W is very worried about my liver). So, there was that. Then, my double sports bras tend to squeeze a bit too tight around my chest and mentally, for me, this means I have lost lung capacity. Finally, the only running pants I have are black and the only clean pair I had left on Sunday were super thick Nike dri-fits, which actually hold in a good bit of heat. Thankfully, it was a relatively overcast day, but with a triple layer on top (two bras and a dri-fit shirt) and my thick capri Nikes, I was hot before I had even finished the first mile.<br />
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Heat tends to be my downfall. For some reason, as soon as I get hot on a run, I can't shake the lethargy that comes with it. I felt good for the first 3 miles; struggled the next .5 mile. Convinced myself I was a machine for the next 1.7 miles. Hit the wall hard at 5 miles. I prayed and prayed that I would experience that elusive runner's high. I desperately needed it at that point. And, lo and behold! It came. And I felt like I might actually be able to go the full 7 miles. Kid you not, .25 miles later and I was right back at that wall. The runner's high is a cruel, cruel joke. By 5.5 miles, I thought my legs might just stop responding to my brain. At 5.75, I thought my heart might explode. At 6 miles, I had to stop. I was barely moving anyways and my feet were so heavy. My shoes kept scraping the pavement, too. So, I figured that rather than risk facial disfigurement due to extreme road rash from face planting, I would just go ahead and stop. And I did and I felt like CRAP.<br />
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There were no endorphins. There was no high. There was just HEAT, lots of HEAT. GOD, I was SO hot. I wanted to rip my clothes off and swan dive into the river from the path. Also, I had forgotten how to walk, or at least my legs had. The .5 mile trudge back to my apartment was the longest, most miserable I'd yet experienced in this town.<br />
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And, today, well, my calves are burning and the fact that I have to get in bikinis in two weeks is the only thing keeping this running ship sailing for the time being.<br />
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<b>Total Mileage for the Week: 16 miles</b><br />
<br />
<a href="http://thecapandbrichronicles.blogspot.com/2013/05/half-marathon-training-with-b-week-1.html" target="_blank">Half-Marathon Training with B: Week 1</a><br />
<a href="http://thecapandbrichronicles.blogspot.com/2013/05/half-marathon-training-with-b-week-2.html" target="_blank">Half-Marathon Training with B: Week 2</a><br />
<a href="http://thecapandbrichronicles.blogspot.com/2013/06/half-marathon-training-with-b-week-3.html" target="_blank">Half-Marathon Training with B: Week 3</a><br />
<a href="http://thecapandbrichronicles.blogspot.com/2013/06/half-marathon-training-with-b-break-week.html" target="_blank">Half-Marathon Training with B: Break Week (Fourth Week)</a><br />
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<i>How's your running going?</i><br />
<br />
<b>-b</b>Cap & Brihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10272699324369229854noreply@blogger.com0