tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34559134411867521932024-03-13T08:07:25.938-07:00Miss Renee's Wild RideReneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-22145423049483607152010-01-19T22:14:00.000-08:002010-01-19T22:15:24.296-08:00Tonight...I wondered if I could still do the broom trick. <br /><br />I still can.Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-80656474177610011582009-05-06T22:19:00.000-07:002009-05-06T23:39:23.343-07:00Lifetime Commitment<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2NyllXFllZ1K1pFxbTQ-VE9oNfPVgDqBYq-R0uJVFjyntjJ0WFtxNrsGU2pNHEx2Kc8BxqE-6Gac_EyYQKP0lVpUStRj19hsu7NffdLOIVtw3qur36owAdHwop9-U3_jqPC-gQMkAFM/s1600-h/l_stand.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332954887518183410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2NyllXFllZ1K1pFxbTQ-VE9oNfPVgDqBYq-R0uJVFjyntjJ0WFtxNrsGU2pNHEx2Kc8BxqE-6Gac_EyYQKP0lVpUStRj19hsu7NffdLOIVtw3qur36owAdHwop9-U3_jqPC-gQMkAFM/s400/l_stand.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div>When I came of age (what age, I'm not exactly sure, but an age older than 12) I made a commitment to myself that anytime I saw children selling lemonade on the side of the road I would stop and buy some. I think this commitment came out of the deep sense of rejection I felt as a young entrepreneurial child when cars containing what I thought looked like perfectly pleasant people went whizzing by my roadside lemonade stand without so much as a second glance (they had to take a first glance due to the gigantic neon colored poster-board we used to advertise our delicious nectar <em><span style="font-size:78%;">(read kool-aid)</span></em> and lure our customers). Even as a wee one, I recognized the cruelty of adults who wouldn't humor some kids trying to make some extra dough the good ol' fashioned way. On the other hand, I remember the delight I would feel when someone would actually pull over and purchase a glass (read mini-dixi cup) of our hard made juice. These lemonade days are among my favorite childhood memories.</div><div></div><br /><div>So, today I had the opportunity to fulfill this commitment to always stop at children's lemonade stands as I drove past one on my way home from work. It was the perfect lemonade stand day...warm with a slight summer breeze. I almost envied the kids and the carefree way they made their living. To my delight, inflation hasn't touched the lemonade business (or maybe the recession is hitting it especially hard) because I got a medium sized dixi cup of raspberry lemonade for the bargain price of 25 cents...not a penny more than I charged 20+ years ago. While I hesitated actually drinking the lemonade (you never know where their grubby little hands have been) I was pleased to see the ice cream truck stop in front of their house just a few moments later and think that I somehow contributed to them finally being able to buy that firecracker popsicle they've been wanting. </div><div></div><br /><div><span>What are your thoughts on lemonade stands. Did you do them when you were young? Do you stop at them now? Do you drink the lemonade?<br /><br />P.S. Speaking of lifetime commitments, I keep meaning to blog about Courtney and Cameron's wedding that I went to back in March. Suffice it to say that it was unequivocally, hands down, the best. wedding. ever. Courtney was amazingly beautiful in her self-designed dress, the ceremony was sacred and lovely, and the reception was the most kick A party I've ever been to. Three words: Live. Band. Karaoke. 'Nuff said. Obviously it's not enough said, because I'm going to add this...Courtney's dad started a mosh pit, her mom rocked the bangles, and, at the end of the night, all of the reception guests paraded into the street behind the bride and groom giving them all of our love and happiness through song and chanting. Again...Best. Wedding. Ever!!</span> <div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332966519911385330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUpMB07lB0-ekswquL9TTTbOyw09D_eR5yeeHJVU0L6XxV8fuIoiInQcH84ff54Jl3j_XA-xwhm5BBxYfRtCx1eJxjkAZw2__Nm1LLf0FN4v9hTz6SpytMYd00Gj640tJMyguGmpQm8Ic/s400/Courtney's+wedding" border="0" /></div>Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-57071740513976864552009-04-17T16:42:00.000-07:002009-04-17T16:45:32.738-07:00Springtime in the Rockies<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJY-y_96P1la9D0bYkwgofOZiwjZQpsyhXHF9wSiv5Nm4_KG82uOyuH7wC5IHMmYhg54hw4UkJFZBWqjZmXNVREHyxNMWo8nrMoJ6CBc9vRTyc3U8SQW7v9HRy7Lr8lUHjlyle-nqrFb8/s1600-h/Castle_Rock_01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325810592423446850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJY-y_96P1la9D0bYkwgofOZiwjZQpsyhXHF9wSiv5Nm4_KG82uOyuH7wC5IHMmYhg54hw4UkJFZBWqjZmXNVREHyxNMWo8nrMoJ6CBc9vRTyc3U8SQW7v9HRy7Lr8lUHjlyle-nqrFb8/s400/Castle_Rock_01.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>It's April 17th. I thought it would be safe to put my winter coats away. I thought wrong.</div>Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-7750036073399382382009-04-02T15:05:00.000-07:002009-04-02T15:58:51.633-07:00Birthday Surprise<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDuVUCoPjxpqsgCyIdPmL5YIBooRfWSD2fFGPqu6fWHZ8qBjGWxIj3mZ55nUZcd1flniEIEGRi8uuJG-boeBcyCqMUEUgGjaF80VLxouIcgTC_pN9dDMYxPqsbBoBRIFtVPefnVKdipHs/s1600-h/180px-CandleCake.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320232170577234530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 135px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDuVUCoPjxpqsgCyIdPmL5YIBooRfWSD2fFGPqu6fWHZ8qBjGWxIj3mZ55nUZcd1flniEIEGRi8uuJG-boeBcyCqMUEUgGjaF80VLxouIcgTC_pN9dDMYxPqsbBoBRIFtVPefnVKdipHs/s400/180px-CandleCake.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div><div>"So, what time are we meeting?" I ask.</div><div></div><br /><div>"We're meeting on the North side of town at 6:00 pm." She replies, with a slight smile.</div><div></div><br /><div>"What should I wear?" </div><br /><div></div><div>"Something comfy."</div><br /><div></div><div>"Like jeans? Or sweats?" </div><br /><div></div><div>"Ummmm...sweats. I was planning on wearing yoga pants." Keep in mind, Alice wears yoga pants approximately 82% of the time seeing as how she is a yoga instructor and likes to be comfy when she's not being twisty.</div><br /><div></div><div>My thoughts were racing. I knew my friends were planning a birthday surprise, but I had no idea what it could be. What sort of activity could take place on the North side of town that would require me to wear something comfy? </div><br /><div></div><div>"Are we going to be in public? Or just by ourselves?"</div><br /><div></div><div>"In public" she says. I knew that was the end of the discussion...as curious as I am, I didn't want her to actually give away the surprise. </div><br /><div></div><div>Rock climbing? Ice skating? Flag football? Capture the flag? Yoga? The possibilities are endless!</div><br /><div></div><div>Today I get a gchat from Scott in which he tells me, "make sure to bring two pairs of socks!" Ummm...2 pairs of socks? Whiskey tango foxtrot?? That rules out rock climbing and yoga. Also seems a little unnecessary for any sort of activity involving a flag or skating (though, Scott can be a bit of a germaphobe and perhaps the extra pair of socks is for changing into before putting back on my own shoes?). He also tells me to wear a "track suit" which I don't own because I'm not a Russian teenaged hoodlum. </div><br /><div></div><div>So, dear friends, as a birthday present to me, any ideas about what might be taking place tonight?? Brainstorm!! Be creative!! Closest to the truth (besides those who already know) will win a prize :) </div></div>Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-90327646078835278552009-03-12T17:26:00.000-07:002009-03-12T18:33:37.873-07:00a month (or so) in review<div align="left">So, I've been in Denver for a month now (well, it was a month when I started this post...now it's been almost two!). Can you believe it's been that long? I'm experiencing another one of those bizarre h'd up time warp things where I simultaneously feel like I've just arrived and like I've been here forever. Those always trip me out. </div><div align="left"><br />Anyway, my time here so far has been fantastic. It's been one of the easier moves I've ever made and the transition into my new life has been relatively seamless. Maybe it's because it's home...but it's been an incredibly comfortable and comforting change for me. So...here's my month (or so) in review: </div><div align="left"><br />1. I've already been snowboarding twice and was immediately reminded of the FACT that Colorado has the best snow on earth. Utahans might claim it on their license plates, but it's a bald faced lie. (<em><span style="font-size:85%;">ok, in an effort to reduce my hyperbole I'll say that Colorado has the best snow in the US, since I haven't technically participated in snow sports outside of the contiguous 48. And, if I'm being truly honest...I can only speak to the fact that we have the best snow out of the following states: Colorado, Utah, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, California, and Oregon...do people even snowboard in other states?</span></em>). Rather than turn this into a battleground over something completely ridiculous, I'll just say that we had a fabulous time and show you these pictures to prove it:</div><div align="left"> </div><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312469333361714466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD17taWe5yUUjaFb97yyQrWSHLge6ssasTLm9uRNVH4MF3X1T8OpZQJ4op57kM0HAeQq_HXOJTams6xQ9l2WbI1nptjy_F4CrGTfmczfKmKxVVqJw4VfP15R6PhQdyWK3iKwQcrKImJBs/s320/January_2009_009.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312469333805673618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4RHvjBUartAK6WRh2qCBddnH_tLUjPbtnVWLEh_rwujc67ZSUz76fte_RIDnNA1D8K2WQii2o2638RwulDTyJR4qU_QQJivk4yKwzUcIDyCDIFI0dDYaY10r3L9CKVQJXeiQK-mO-8JI/s320/January_2009_018.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312469339304111330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIJaqrJI4Fks2KWilx_QZZTANFoDBxudoEGgYG0y_1c34Jr73rgXAxpjqYISJIma_m-OMr1LHGDw-YJaDG2hESRUA_k4n5Tc6PijPG0_dRI3Wg_MSG47ULJ0bLfkQPnNe9S_c7FwYY4EY/s320/January_2009_015.jpg" border="0" /> <em><span style="font-size:85%;">I've also rekindled my long lost love of cheetos since returning to Denver...YUM!</span> </em></p><p align="left">I can't wait until I can get a summit pass next year!! </p>2. I love living with my long-time BF Shammy. The space is fun-sized, just like me, so likely won't be a permanent situation, but I have LOVED sharing space, having long chats, enjoying tea time, being with someone who totally gets me and offers incredible support, laughing over fond memories, and making new ones.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS3WvsHoiK-TSgSwxPeCEJpwOcWgkXcgOxnCMhjLVu6fPQ6mUENdyEs9MVGuI1nwZWTkBpUu8ZriaifiVjLQWGwbwD7aGK39VBEFXTDiirOGmVZDDzN2x3gopSGnQRiGUzpq7WnOlOotY/s1600-h/Bowling.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312470774751247826" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS3WvsHoiK-TSgSwxPeCEJpwOcWgkXcgOxnCMhjLVu6fPQ6mUENdyEs9MVGuI1nwZWTkBpUu8ZriaifiVjLQWGwbwD7aGK39VBEFXTDiirOGmVZDDzN2x3gopSGnQRiGUzpq7WnOlOotY/s200/Bowling.jpg" border="0" /></a>3. I've joined a bowling team! Really it's just some of Alice's friends who bowl every Wednesday night and I've wiggled myself into their group. I suck, just as I always have, but it's teaching me to be less competitive (<em><span style="font-size:85%;">which we all know is a hard but important lesson for me to learn</span></em>). We go to this pretty ghetto bowling alley near our house that seems to be the hot spot for the young and beautiful who are looking for good clean fun. The other night I was up until 1:00 am shopping for bowling shoes and a vintage ball bag on ebay. If I'm going to be a bowler, I'm going to do it in style!<br /><br />4. I really love my job. I work with an amazing team of people and it's a really great program. It's a bit challenging and I'm learning a lot. I have to tell people "no" (which is really hard for me) and sometimes people don't like me (a product of me telling them no, which is why I don't like to do it). I'm sharpening my clinical skills and getting really good at sniffing out problem people based on meager information. I'm learning a lot about the treatment of PTSD and really enjoy working with these courageous men.<br /><br />5. I forgot how crazy the weather in Colorado is. First of all, the sun is always shining and is no indication whatsoever of the temperature outside. Also, on several occasions, it has gone from being 60-70 degrees one day to 20-30 then next. That old saying "If you don't like the weather just wait 5 minutes" has been used in many states. But, it's never been more true than in Colorado. So far there have been several snowfalls, but also several beautifully warm days. I'm just waiting for our usual March blizzard before I pack up all of my sweaters.<br /><br />6. Since I was stuck in Portland over the holidays, my family celebrated Christmas in February. We had a fantastic time exchanging presents sans tree and the stress that surrounds the big Christmas dinner. I already received (bought) and used my gift of a new snowboard a couple times before we celebrated Christmas. I also got a wonderfully snuggly blanket from Desiree. The fun thing was actually doing most of my Christmas shopping the day of the exchange...talk about procrastination! Plus, we got spring pajamas instead of the usual winter flannel :)<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312473524284875186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3Fa2zt7YmEbEFvP914_9PBCgUMDnyNVbAgjDlEl5Tk696GpbA86j3liVfyD7bequBxMDxUVmySUalIuV0DA2xUJENMGib94K64hGJ6RqIKZ1g_7vnft28HlZM9wQhI1iqRBMCPVjc3c/s320/Christmas+in+February+001.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Here we are with some of our Christmas bootie</span></em><br /></p><br />7. I had a visitor within my first month of being back. Paul came out for a long weekend over President's Day (unfortunately, we didn't take a single picture). We had a fantastic time being Coloradans - snowboarding, playing frisbee golf, going to the Boulder Film Festival, eating at the greatest Chinese Restaurant on the planet with my fam, and just hanging out. It was so great to get some quality time in with Paul. As you know...I can't wait for more visitors!<br /><br />8. It's been really great to meet up and hang out with old friends. In some cases, the friendships just slipped right back in as though I'd never left, which I really love. It's great to have an instant network of people who I love and who really know me. There are still some I have yet to see, but it's nice just knowing that they are there! <br /><br />9. I've been going to the singles ward since I moved back, but in a month I'll be heading to the family ward (which I embrace with a big ol' mixed bag of feelings). I haven't done the best job of making friends who are LDS (since I've already got such a great group of friends) but I'm hoping that will change when I move in with some girls from the ward. I feel like it's really important for me to maintain that social connection. There's lots of awkwardness and loneliness in this department, but that's fodder for another post. <br /><br />10. Finally, there's goals group. Alice, Lindsay and I have started up a goals group wherein we meet every other week, make yummy food, and help keep each other accountable for our goals. Each group we make 5 short-term goals. At our next group we check up on our progress and for each goal that we didn't accomplish, we put $5 into the pot. Lindsay thinks that at the end of six months we'll be able to go on a trip with all of the money from the pot. I'm not sure if she's overly optimistic or pessimistic, but either way it's a win-win situation. So far I'm 5 for 5!<br /><br />Anyway...that's my life in review for those who are wondering. I miss all of my Portlanders dearly, but am having a fantastic time here in Colorado! Come visit!!Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-28090982030878392222009-03-03T22:50:00.000-08:002009-03-03T23:06:51.428-08:00eau de toilet<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Q5zLBX_J81E2NJCHfbRWYeoyfGBi5G_iy_4MxHclTvIFlJxXRU6Jqjwz6qPaFkDHhs143WAJG884gQl3TErBGarVpekFts-UaRYn6Bc3B6M6HMdIB05rP8eVNyMunZ0xt3jZjuo_k1w/s1600-h/toilet-paper.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309225130209994466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 312px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Q5zLBX_J81E2NJCHfbRWYeoyfGBi5G_iy_4MxHclTvIFlJxXRU6Jqjwz6qPaFkDHhs143WAJG884gQl3TErBGarVpekFts-UaRYn6Bc3B6M6HMdIB05rP8eVNyMunZ0xt3jZjuo_k1w/s400/toilet-paper.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I've suddenly become very aware (almost to the point of self consciousness) about the amount of toilet paper I use. It all started a few months ago when Ashley and I were at the grocery store and I was about to buy one of those industrial sized packages of TP. We were going to be moving out of our place soon and she said something to the effect of "That is an INSANE amount of toilet paper. It would take me a year to go through that. You're never going to finish it before we move. What...are you going to just pack it up with all of your stuff?" </div><div><br />I went ahead and bought the megaload, thinking it was a reasonable amount for my remaining time at our house. And I was right...I think I used it all...down to the last roll. Now I'm staying at my friend Alice's house and I've been sharing her store of TP until we run out, at which time I'll restock. Her bathroom is downstairs, so I've been grabbing 2 rolls at a time so I've got a spare in my bathroom. This has also made me super aware of the amount of toilet paper I'm going through because I feel like I'm constantly restocking. I never thought I was an overconsumer of toilet paper. But, perhaps I'm wrong. </div><div><br />So...I'm putting it out to the masses: How much toilet paper do you use? How quickly do you go through a roll? Do you use a particular number of squares for each wipe? Or with a flick of the wrist do you just let it roll? Feel free to post your comments anonymously if you're uneasy with potty talk. Members of the PC, I'd especially appreciate your feedback. </div>Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-62680678138846285552009-03-03T22:40:00.001-08:002009-03-03T22:49:21.209-08:00sixesI never get specifically tagged. And I always feel too self conscious to respond to any of those "if you feel like doing it then consider yourself tagged" tags. But, I've been tagged. And you're all about to be ridiculously grateful that I was because now you're privy to this little gem: <br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309219547562928082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQDySnBAubpvQODl7y_sk1r-7xjFDE0w3-2Yc7xpjfLLXJK5g9XoewC-HiZd6BZHIg1wzkJrnf1P_8sdRKAnfwmW0JfSIl_j-T6SqDGZ1TjLjT0LtaRO09y3gw0qvCtOdGyJAYXeE-mg/s400/IMG_0899.JPG" border="0" /> <p>This is a picture of 63 and Larry taken on the DC metro last winter as we were gallivanting around the city before Shawn Lindseth's nuptials. I'll let the picture speak for itself.</p><p>Here's how it works: go to the pictures folder on your computer, go to the sixth file, go to the sixth picture, post it, then tag 6 people. I can't narrow down the list of those to tag. So, I'm just gonna put it out to all of you (even though I hate when people do that). I am not sure if anyone even reads this anymore since I almost never post. But...if you do...here's your chance to prove it!!<br /></p>Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-70124644954302816392009-01-26T08:21:00.000-08:002010-08-27T12:36:52.672-07:00K(c)arma?What did I do in a former life to deserve the kind of car problems I have? Was I one of those machines that smashes old cars into pancakes? Was I road salt that corrodes the underbelly? Was I a gigantic pothole? Perhaps I was black ice or a semi that shoots rocks into windshields? Whatever it was, it had to be bad, and it had to be the kind of thing that cars HATE because apparently my 15 year history of needing rescue on the side of the road is not yet over.<br /><br />I woke up this morning to big fat snowflakes coming down in droves (yay!). I laughed maniacally as I (and all of the rest of Denver) drove to work despite the blizzard. I laughed even louder when I realized the temperature was 9 (yes NINE) degrees outside. It was amazing to me how wonderfully the city was handling the quickly accumulating snow in comparison to Oregonians in Arctic Blast 2008. I stopped laughing about a mile from my house when my left rear wheel seized up, causing my car to drive straight only when the steering wheel was turned as though I was making a sharp right turn (and the car was at a slight angle...looking like it was heading straight into the left lane). I know this doesn't make any sense to you, the reader. It also didn't make any sense to me, the driver. It seemed like I was just kind of spinning out on the icy road. Only, the road wasn't very icy and I wasn't actually spinning. So, I just kept driving, at an angle, with my wheel sharply turned, thinking I would somehow come out of this "spin". It wasn't until a friendly driver in the next lane rolled down his window to tell me the 411 on my wheel that I learned it had seized up and was not spinning...thus causing my car to want to drive around that stuck tire like a dog chasing it's tail. At that point, I stop the car (there wasn't really a shoulder on which to pull over) and get out to have a look. I'm not sure what I intended to see or do with that look. It's true...the wheel wasn't spinning (which is good considering the car was stopped and I was no longer at the helm). So, I looked, then promptly got back into the car (remember the 9 degree weather and the blizzard??) and attempted to turn the car back on. Only, Mitzy had completely given up on me and would not start. Damn. I sat there in my freezing car, watching the snow pile up to the point that I could not see out any of the windows in a matter of minutes, while I frantically tried to call work, my insurance road side assistance, and my roommate so that I could be rescued.<br /><br />I thought that buying a relatively new car would free me of my close relationship with the local tow truck company and nearby mechanic. Apparently my bad Carma (sic) is here to stay and Tow Truck Tim and I are on our way to being BFFs.Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-69736778382404588692009-01-19T22:30:00.000-08:002009-01-19T22:56:33.097-08:00Day 1I've been in Colorado for over 24 hours now...28 hours to be exact. I thought I'd give you a list of the highlights and lowlights of Day 1 in Denver.<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Highlights</span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">1.</span> Seeing and hugging my family and best friends and knowing I'll get to do it all the time.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">2.</span> My family's excitement and enthusiasm about me being here (I didn't even have time to put my shoes on before my mom yanked me out of the car and started dancing and singing with me in the driveway when we arrived).<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">3.</span> Fantastic road trip with Scott.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">4.</span> The ease of the loading and unloading (and unloading some more) of my stuff.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">5.</span> The generosity of my family and friend who helped with the move.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">6.</span> Nobody <em>actually</em> broke their knee on the hitch that stuck out the back of the Uhaul truck (but dang does that smart when you hit it).<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">7.</span> It was 67 degrees today.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">8.</span> Alice letting me stay with her in her <span style="font-size:130%;">ADORABLE</span> house in the most <span style="font-size:130%;">ADORABLE</span> neighborhood for a few months while I get settled and situated.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">9.</span> There is a Chipotle a block from my house and <span style="font-size:130%;">another</span> one a block from work...significant sign that this move was meant to be.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">10.</span> Along with Chipotle, there is the cutest little strip of stores, restaurants, bars, and coffee shops just a block away from where I'm living. It reminds me of downtown Bend, OR.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">11.</span> Drinking my first cup of hot chocolate with Alice in her living room while listening to Santa Wars on This American Life and laughing until we cry. I know this moment will repeat itself in various forms over the next few months and that makes me endlessly giddy.<br />12. Having wireless that works so I can actually blog about Day 1!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Lowlights</strong></span><br />1. Missing my friends in Oregon.<br />2. Not being able to finish my morning pee before my mom and sister burst through the bathroom door screaming <span style="font-size:130%;">"YAY"</span> to let me know how excited they are that I'm here (and awake).<br />3. Pumping my own gas.<br />4. Sales tax.<br />5. Crusty bugers<br />6. Chapped lips<br />7. The constant need for lotioning<br />8. Sleeping on just my mattress because my box spring doesn't fit up the stairs to my room.<br />9. All of the new positions I'm going to have to learn in order to effectively bathe in Alice's teeny tiny shower.<br />10. Missing my friends in Oregon...did I say that twice? Well, that's how much I miss them!<br /><br />I think I'll stay.Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-90483306141667629832008-12-21T11:20:00.000-08:002008-12-21T14:09:20.983-08:00Things I’ve Learned From Arctic Blast 2008<span style="font-size:180%;">1</span>. Portland is a city of completely unprepared alarmists. Even though <a href="http://www.kgw.com/news-local/stories/kgw_120908_weather_portland_snow.481e1ec4.html">Arctic Blast 2008</a> is nigh unto the apocalypse (according to the Portland metropolitan area populace), no one owns so much as an ice scraper for their car windows let alone plows to clear the now <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/weather/12/16/wintry.weather/index.html#cnnSTCVideo">re-frozen streets</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">2</span>. 1 small <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CXFZMGddENA">hill</a>* of solid ice + 60 pounds of kitty litter + 2 slip sliding giggly girls = Sweet sweet freedom.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">3</span>. Arctic blasts make for FANTASTIC snowboarding in waist deep powder.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">4</span>. Ridiculous pimped-out low profile tires aren’t the best tires for snow.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">5</span>. They don’t make chains or cables to fit ridiculous pimped-out low profile tires.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">6</span>. If the guy at Firestone says that the cables they have might fit your ridiculous pimped-out low profile tires, don’t buy them. You and your friends will spend an hour in the freezing cold kneeling down in six inches of snow, your hands will go numb, you might swear, and they still won’t fit.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">7</span>. I have amazing friends.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">8</span>. Always bring your cell phone car charger with you. You never know when you’ll be driving in an Arctic blast in a city with no plows with ridiculous pimped-out low profile tires with no cables after snowboarding all day in waist deep powder and find that you have a dead cell phone battery. You wouldn’t want to spend 40 minutes driving with images of you and your new car in a ditch on the side of the road with no means of calling anyone to help.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">9</span>. God controls all things, including slippery hills, traffic lights, parking spots, and the radio.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">10</span>. Driving home in an Arctic Blast might make you more sore than an entire day of snowboarding in waist deep powder (which is a near impossibility since snowboarding all day in waist deep powder is one of the most physically strenuous activities in which I’ve ever participated…and I do a lot of physically strenuous activity).<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">11</span>. Sometimes it’s nice when church is cancelled for a second week in a row so that you have a day to recover from all of the lessons I learned from Arctic Blast 2008.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">12</span>. Snowdays are much more fun when you have inflatable sleds, lots of neighborhood friends, and a gigantic sledding hill (i.e. Washington DC's Masonic Temple) across the street from your house.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">*This is not my actual hill featured in the video, but a fun one nonetheless.</span>Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-28955309859944476582008-12-15T13:01:00.001-08:002008-12-15T13:50:44.247-08:00NewsiesThe great thing about being snowed in is that it provides plenty of time for blogging...so long as my internet holds up (I can't seem to catch a break these days, can I?). But, I have lots of new and exciting things going on in my life that I'm sure you're all dying to know about...or at least that I'm dying to tell you about!<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">New #1: My new phone!</span></strong><br /><br />Many of you have been aware of the ongoing <a href="http://missreneeswildride.blogspot.com/2008/07/its-getting-worse.html">bain of my existence that is my phone</a>. Near the end it literally became possessed by the devil and would turn on and off at will. It was particularly annoying when it would do so in the middle of an <a href="http://yourbird.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-everest.html">important conversation</a> or not even turn on and stay on long enough for me to begin a conversation. So, if I have seemed less communicative than usual, it is my phone's fault. But, that is all about to change...because I FINALLY got a new phone. Not only did I get a new phone, but I also switched providers. So, all of you Verizonites out there, we can talk to our hearts' content. All of your Sprinters (which are a dying breed, I realize) you won't have the easy access to my ear you once had.<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">New #2: My new car!</span></strong><br /><br />I wish I had pictures, but until I have the means to buy and write New #4: My new camera! you'll have to use your imagination. She's a <a href="http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/autoreview/400x266/2006-Mazda-3-04807211990003.jpg">2006 Mazda3 hatchback</a>. Her name is Lyla and she's a little cutie. Kind of like my quest for a man, there are things about her that I never would have chosen but I have either learned to love (the fact that she's red) or just accept (the pimped out low-profile tires) or do everything in my power to change (the funky smell that has now been eliminated). Lulu has gone to the grave (God rest her soul) and Lyla and I are becoming fast friends. I'm just so thrilled to have transportation again that I think I'd love her no matter what, but so far she's been a great little car. We're having all kinds of fun.<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">New #3: My new job!</span></strong><br /><br />I've accepted a position as the Admissions Coordinator of the residential Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder program at the Denver VA. Yes...the DENVER VA. I'm moving to Colorado in mere weeks. How do I feel, you may wonder? Excited, sad, freaked out, overwhelmed, happy, anxious, thrilled...the list goes on and changes from moment to moment. The more it settles in and becomes real, the better I feel about it. I'm really sad to be leaving Portland, because I really love it here! I've had so much fun and have felt really connected to the city since the moment I arrived. I can see myself staying here for a long long time, which is part of the reason I'm leaving now. I am feeling a pull back to Colorado and back to my family. If I don't leave now, I may never leave. I've been away for 12 years, have seen the world, sown my oats (though I'm not sure how wild they've been), and now I'm ready to be back in Colorado and back near my family. I want to be able to spend more time with them on a regular basis and be a part of their lives. I have a lot going for me in Colorado and I hope to make a good life for myself there. It'll be another fun and exciting change and just might be my last stop.<br /><br />I don't have a lot of details yet on when exactly I'll be back. I'm staying in Portland for the holidays but I should be back in Colorado in the first few weeks of January. We're still negotiating a start-date with my new job, but it won't be later than January 18th. I will be moving out of my house (big sad sigh) the weekend after Christmas and will be homeless (but taken care of) for a few weeks, and then I'll be headed home. I can't wait to see all of my Colorado peeps!! And, for those of you elsewhere around the world, Colorado is a GREAT place to visit! Come see me soon!!Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-67206959959471504022008-12-15T12:01:00.000-08:002009-01-26T17:25:15.863-08:00Tale of A City......with no plows.<br /><br />They said it was supposed to snow on Saturday. Everyone was talking about it. People were hunkering down. There was no milk at the grocery store. Adverse weather alerts were being sent out at work. Being a girl who grew up in Colorado, I kept thinking, "It's just a little snow, why is everybody freaking out??" I understand that not everybody knows how to drive in the snow, but it's not like we were going to get THAT much.<br /><br />I'm now sitting in my house...trapped and eating humble pie (if only I'd bought some milk, it would go nicely). I woke up yesterday morning and had my sort-of-annual favorite morning - The morning you wake up and realize it has snowed for the first time that season. I LOVE those mornings. They are so beautiful and peaceful and bright. I get SO happy when it snows. To peep out the window and see everything covered in a gleaming white blanket brings delight to my soul! I began to get ready for church, then got a phone call notifying me that church was cancelled. WHAT?? Church...cancelled?? For SNOW?? These people are ridiculous.<br /><br />But, it was officially a snow day which meant hours of guilt-free lounging. I laid in bed an extra hour and read my book, then transferred the lounging to the couch where my roommate and I watched endless movies on TV. It was fabulous. We braved the elements and went to pick up a pizza for lunch (gimme a break...it was a snow day). The roads were a little slippery, but not too bad. We made it home safely and continued our lounging. I even made ribs for a late dinner. The day couldn't have gotten much better.<br /><br />Today I woke up with every intention of going to work. I'd made it out yesterday right? It snowed all day yesterday, but today the sun is shining and it's clear outside. I got all bundled, got in my car, said a prayer that I'd be safe, and headed out. I got about 30 yards from my front door when I met my first (and only) obstacle - a slight hill that was a solid sheet of ice. I made my first (and only) attempt to get up it. I employed all of my I-know-how-to-drive-in-the-snow skills. I shifted to second gear when my tires started spinning, I turned into the spin that my car was starting to go into, yet I still ended up spun around and sliding sideways down the hill and into the curb. Luckily, I didn't hit the little sapling behind me or the parked car in front of me. I had to do a slow 20-point turn to get turned back in the direction of my house. I did, indeed, make it home safely, even though I didn't get far. I suppose prayers are answered in funny ways.<br /><br />I'm not sure if it is the pimped out low profile tires on my new car (yes...you read that correctly), or the below freezing temperatures, or the fact that Portland HAS NO PLOWS, or maybe it's a combination of the three. If this sort of thing happened in Colorado they would have had the streets plowed before it even stopped snowing and we'd all be on our merry little way. Here, there is just ice. Ice everywhere. Which leaves me trapped in my house. Snow day one = blissful guilt-free lounging. Snow day two = stir crazy cabin fever. I'm worried how long this will go on since there is no indication that the temperatures are rising or that they'll ever plow/salt/gravel our little hill since it's not a main road. Maybe I'll take a walk to the grocery for some milk.<br /><br />Oh, and did I mention that the heat in our house isn't working? I'm currently typing this as I'm crouched next to a little space heater that is warming my room so I don't freeze to death...trapped...in my house. If you don't hear from me for a few days, maybe you should send out a search party.Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-26058313671273931062008-11-25T10:46:00.000-08:002008-11-25T11:08:48.881-08:00Case of the MondaysMy <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Office_Space">case of the Mondays</a> started on a Wednesday a week and a half ago when my car, Lulu, broke down on the freeway on my way home from work…in the pouring rain. It began as I stood (in my little pencil skirt and faux snake skin heels) on the side of the road, getting splashed with road water from the passing semi-trucks, contemplating my fate without Lulu. I knew she was done for. Smoke was pouring out of the engine and into the car. This was no ordinary break down (and I should know…you might call me a connoisseur of break downs). Just before she died she let out a 5 alarm fire warning with every possible bell and whistle blaring at me. Did I heed the warning? No. I figured I could make it home…or at least to my mechanic before she gave up the ghost. But, my faith was misplaced. She died there on the 5 just north of the Stafford Road exit of overheating, a blown head gasket, and a burnt up heating core. She was clearly having a case of the Mondays.<br /><br />But my case of the Mondays didn’t end there. It continued once I arrived home to my much anticipated hot shower, Burgerville burger, and Wednesday night TV. I was looking forward to indulging in these pleasures to help me forget about the cold and wet hour and a half I spent waiting for the tow truck driver to arrive. I needed warmth, greasy and delicious food, and the pie maker. I got my hot shower, but the CMAs thwarted my TV watching. And E coli thwarted my comfort food. I spent most of the night expelling every ounce of comfort I had previously put into my belly just an hour earlier.<br /><br />And my case of the Mondays didn’t end there either. My saint of a roommate gave her first (of many) rides to the bus stop on Thursday morning so I could get to work. We arrived with plenty of time and I moseyed over to the bench to wait for my bus (which was sitting just outside the station in its “I’m here early and am waiting to start my route” position). As I turned around and took my seat, the bus pulled out of its “I’m here early and am waiting to start my route” position and took off down the road, rather than taking the usual pass through the station, thereby causing me to wait in the cold another 15 minutes for the next bus.<br /><br />You’d be clever if you thought my case of the Mondays ended there. And you’d be wrong. That evening, I’d pseudo arranged for a ride home from the bus stop after work. Plan A never contacted me, so I got on the bus, assuming I could call Plan B on my way home and tell her that her mission was being activated. The only problem is that my cell phone had died prior to being able to notify Plan B. So, there I sat, on the 64 Express to Tigard, with no phone, no money, and (again) wearing insensible shoes (you’d think I would learn my lesson). A kind soul on the bus let me borrow her phone to call my friend, only she didn’t answer at first. Then she gave me some quarters so I could use a pay phone if it came to that. Could it really come to that? What was happening to me?? Luckily Plan B got the message and arrived at the bus stop just in time to save me from a 3 mile uphill walk in the rain and ridiculously uncomfortable shoes.<br /><br />So, my case of the Mondays began on a Wednesday, carried over to Thursday, and trickled on for the following week and a half, culminating in today, Monday, one of the most stressful days I’ve had in a very long while. I’ll spare you the details, but the day has included completing paperwork to buy a new car, picking up said <a href="http://portland.craigslist.org/clc/cto/924443038.html">car</a>, taking it to the <a href="http://www.paragonautorepair.com/">mechanic</a> to get the stink out, getting to work 2 hours late, missing an appointment with a patient, eating only a PBJ and a piece of string cheese all day long, dealing with a possessed phone, and catching the red eye to New Hampshire for a long-awaited Thanksgiving holiday with my family. It was topped off by a middle seat on said red eye and leaving my headphones in my jacket pocket in the overhead compartment. I’m going on about 1.3 hours of neck wrenching sleep).<br /><br />When it comes to my life, when it rains, it pours. This applies to all areas whether it’s stress, change (hopefully to be blogged about soon), problems with electronic devices, dating, you name it. No one ever said I was good at moderation. And if they did, they are idiots. The one thing I’m grateful for is that through this very trying week and a half, blessings have also poured. This experience has taught me to rely on other people and ask for help, which I’m not very good at. It has shown me how much the Lord is aware of me and cares about the little details of my life. He provided for me at every turn. I came out with a new car (at a killer deal), and a new appreciation for my AMAZING friends who were so willing to help me out. I can never repay their kindness and patience with me.<br /><br />Despite my week and a half long case of the Mondays, I sit here in the Newark airport happy that it is Tuesday. I had a bagel and hot chocolate from Au Bon Pain (an old East Coast fave), I found my way to terminal A (despite the shady bus that took me through the underbelly of New Jersey), and I found a seat in the waiting area with no arm rests so I can lay down and get some shut eye. It’s a new day.Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-13622596627313206762008-11-03T23:28:00.000-08:002008-11-04T00:17:26.543-08:00The Vote Didn't Even Get BarackedYou know how a few short months ago I was posting about being a procrastinator? And, how a few short posts before that I was going on and on about being forgetful? Well, those two great weaknesses came together to create what might be my biggest, and in fact only, regret in life.<br /><br />I cannot vote tomorrow.<br /><br />I am so ashamed to even write those 4 words. But, it's true. As a world class procrastinator, I sent in my Oregon voter registration form at the last minute of the last hour of the last day to register. I had to specially request that they post mark it for that day or else it wouldn't count. And, in my haste, I forgot to sign the registration form. I got it back in the mail the other day with a big yellow highlighted line where my signature should have been. Since I sent it in so late, I was unable to fix my mistake and send it back in as the deadline had already passed (like 30 seconds after the original mailing). Also, I was too late to request a vote by mail ballot from California. So, I am not able to take part in the most historic election of my 12 years of adulthood.<br /><br />It's really a shame too. This is the sort of event that I might be telling my grandchildren about years from now. Of course, now Grandma Nay Nay is going to be nothing but a big fraud when she retells her story of how she helped elect the first African American President of the United States of America. Either that, or I have to admit that I didn't vote...gasp! I'm not sure which is worse, being a liar or a non-voter. I'm reluctant to admit that this isn't the first time this has happened. I also didn't vote the first year that I was eligible because I was away at my freshman year of college and didn't get an absentee ballot or make the drive down to the county where I was registered. I tried desperately to make up for it in the following years, as I was a HUGE advocate of voter registration (even going so far as to shame the non-registered girls in my relief society classes and giving a fist pounding speech about registering at the beginning of all of my lessons leading up to the 2004 election. This was before I was <a href="http://www.mormon.org/mormonorg/eng/basic-beliefs/glossary/glossary-definition/relief-society"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">RSP</span></a>).<br /><br />I have a terrible fear that this joke (sent to me by both <a href="http://cheyneyandryan.blogspot.com/">Ryan</a> and <a href="http://yourbird.blogspot.com/">Courtney</a>) will turn out to be a reality and it will, indeed, be all my fault. Please forgive me in advance (or thank me if you are on the McCain/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Palin</span> train).<br /><br /><object height="300" width="360" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000"><param name="_cx" value="9525"><param name="_cy" value="7938"><param name="FlashVars" value=""><param name="Movie" value="http://s3.moveon.org/swf/embed.swf"><param name="Src" value="http://s3.moveon.org/swf/embed.swf"><param name="WMode" value="Window"><param name="Play" value="0"><param name="Loop" value="-1"><param name="Quality" value="High"><param name="SAlign" value=""><param name="Menu" value="-1"><param name="Base" value=""><param name="AllowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="Scale" value="ShowAll"><param name="DeviceFont" value="0"><param name="EmbedMovie" value="0"><param name="BGColor" value=""><param name="SWRemote" value=""><param name="MovieData" value=""><param name="SeamlessTabbing" value="1"><param name="Profile" value="0"><param name="ProfileAddress" value=""><param name="ProfilePort" value="0"><param name="AllowNetworking" value="all"><param name="AllowFullScreen" value="true"><embed flashvars="id=Szdy.R416_kQ_huHfDiBNDM4ODYxMTA-" src="http://s3.moveon.org/swf/embed.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="360" height="300"></embed></object><br /><br />P.S. It's been raining since I woke up this morning. Hello frizzy hair, soggy shoes, and no power <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">steering</span>. Goodbye glorious Oregon fall with your breathtaking vistas, soft sunshine, and beautiful weather that I never got around to posting about. I will miss you.Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-14263333208540550282008-09-30T07:40:00.001-07:002008-09-30T09:00:34.976-07:006 a.m.6 a.m. and I are not friends. It's not that we're bitter enemies. There have been times when I can tolerate her, like in the summertime when she's bright and warm and welcoming. Even then I don't LOVE her, but I can stand the sight of her face. I hate her most in the early fall...like now. She's dark and dreary and forces me to stay in bed until the friendlier 7 a.m. comes around and she makes me late for work. I'm particularly mad at her this morning...mostly because I'm BFFs with 1 a.m. and those two just don't get along. I've tried to be a nice mediator between the two, but I always end up siding with 1 a.m. He's just so much more fun. He "gets" me and we jive so much better than me and 6 a.m. I know that 6 a.m. is probably going to be a better friend to me in the long run, and I'm definitely trying to limit the time I spend with 1 a.m. But, it's not easy to give up such a good friend. Maybe I'll just have to give it a few more weeks until 6 a.m. gets nicer again...she's so moody!!! What about you? What time do you hate? Love?Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-48518062379168361422008-09-24T17:18:00.000-07:002008-09-24T17:48:26.421-07:00Not Quite a Doctor<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0p-RC3QQMi7pd4S7vY-kF8fMIz5hfu1UZ8C3te_BIrF4gUe0UJRhK-VifCQILaO3zXMfHK4P-A3VlzaUhzINFSBhHJzn6BdgL0Oef_vxn72z2ZP4unJo8ozN-SzXCUUWbJBbLxJaK3U/s1600-h/lucy.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249752876294280626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0p-RC3QQMi7pd4S7vY-kF8fMIz5hfu1UZ8C3te_BIrF4gUe0UJRhK-VifCQILaO3zXMfHK4P-A3VlzaUhzINFSBhHJzn6BdgL0Oef_vxn72z2ZP4unJo8ozN-SzXCUUWbJBbLxJaK3U/s400/lucy.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div>My mom is always going on about how I'm a doctor, even though I have nothing resembling a PhD or MD or anything else that might warrant the title. I remind her over and over again that I'm a <span style="font-size:130%;">social worker</span> with a <span style="font-size:130%;">masters</span> degree. Well, now I'm <em>officially</em> not a doctor...but I do <em>officially</em> have a fancy new title! I passed my clinical exam today and you can now refer to me as Licensed Clinical Social Worker Renee. Pleased to meet you. Now I just need a shingle. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-78331021035249113052008-09-11T23:12:00.000-07:002008-09-11T23:38:54.258-07:00No ExcusesI have a terrible habit of procrastinating. It is genetic and was passed down from both of my parents. I can't really help it. This genetic defect first manifest itself when I was a young lass having so much fun playing in the sandbox that I procrastinated going to the bathroom...and then wet myself. While the consequences of procrastinating in my adult life don't usually result in ridicule and shame, they have a weight all their own. As I type this, I realize I'm in the process of procrastinating right now. I should be packing for my trip to Colorado, my flight leaves in 8 hours (most of which I should be sleeping) and I have yet to even get my suitcase from the basement.<br /><br />Back to my point...I'm a procrastinator. This procrastinating impacts my blogging. I have a whole summer full of fun piling up in my head that I need...no WANT...to write about. I've started and saved at least 5 posts and haven't finished them. I procrastinate so much that the task becomes daunting and I put it off even more...because it's scary. I used to cope with this by calling Alice at 2:00 in the morning before a big paper was due and crying to her that "I don't know how to start." She always talked me through it and the paper turned out A-ok, and wasn't nearly as scary as I'd made it out to be in my head. But, now I'm a big girl, and it's just not fair to call Alice at 2:00 in the morning to cry about all of the posts that are piling up in my head and becoming so daunting that I don't want to write them. So, this is my attempt to start.<br /><br />I was going to write this post (as the title suggests) that there are no excuses for my absence from the blogosphere. I kind of hate excuses. I used to be a pro at coming up with fantastical excuses for why I didn't do something or why I was late, or why I didn't show up at all. I learned a while back that I don't need to have an excuse. I do what I do and the reason doesn't really matter. And, there's no use lying about it. I would just be trying to justify bad behavior, which is inexcusable. So, I am not going to give any excuse...except that I just did, and it's that I'm a procrastinator. Blame my parents. And here's another one, just for fun. Since I don't have a camera, I'm waiting on photos from my friends so my posts become more aesthetically pleasing and I can stop playing with font size. Blame Peter. (aren't I good at diverting responsibility??)<br /><br />Now that I've procrastinated even further and not given you a lick of my summer fun...I'm going to go pack. But, expect a deluge. Or don't...I wouldn't want you to get your hopes up.Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-88796048828149532722008-09-11T22:58:00.001-07:002008-09-16T21:47:38.327-07:00Parking Karma<div>It happens to be a fact that I have amazing parking karma (and by the mere act of writing it, I am sure I am losing it. Pride sort of strips you of all things good...particularly karma, so consider yourself lucky...this is a huge sacrifice for me to keep you posted on the goings on of my life). While I've had many a good spot, NOTHING can top tonight's find. I went to see the Portland Timber play their final game tonight at PGE park. There were over 13,000 people at the game. And, since most games aren't so highly attended, everyone got there at about 10 to 7 expecting to mosey on in. Instead it was a mad house outside with block long lines to the ticket booths. I see the mayhem as I'm approaching the stadium. Just before getting to the intersection, I say a quiet little prayer that I'll find a good parking spot. I cross the intersection and a car that was parked RIGHT across the street from the entrance pulled out of its spot. I slipped right in without even having to parallel park. I sat in the car for a second, awaiting an LAX-like security guard to pop from behind the light post and ticket me, or at the very least tell me to "move it along." But no, it's a certified, bonifide spot. AND the signs indicating the time limits were covered up...so it was like a total freebee!! I couldn't believe my luck. What could I possibly have done in the pre-existence, or in this life, for that matter, to be blessed with such parking bliss? It's one of the great mysteries of God and will probably be like the 6th thing I ask Him when we meet some day.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246847283130014258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEbtrCKySIB_89W2wiYnyVQZ0QyvGWp4qFKCZUiT7rUy_RdGzjurjFNt0BLmcSURUmjk83i492onuvlK8kaiZgFkxemehk1Cv92Lk156gvVXWaOabSyq45RcmnW8wWWNpFHCGSV-pFcLc/s400/IMG_0710%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></div>Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-85681793210569730912008-09-10T13:46:00.000-07:002008-09-10T14:18:27.177-07:00picky-nick<span style="font-size:130%;">I love</span> eating outside. There is almost nothing better than feeling the sun beat down on my face while enjoying a good sandwich (I mean, a sandwich alone is hard to beat...but the sun certainly adds to the perfection). The weather out here has been beautiful these last few days, and, seeing as how I've been a vampire without a touch of sun this summer, I've been heading outdoors for lunch and some basking.<br /><br />Eating outside always comes with a little <span style="font-size:130%;">adventure</span>, usually in the form of critters<span style="font-size:85%;">*</span>. Today was no exception. First I was accompanied by a little bee friend. He was nice enough, except for the fact that he kept landing on my sandwich exactly where I was about to bite. I don't think either of us would have wanted to be friends anymore if he ended up in my mouth. Sick. After trying to mate with some pork<span style="font-size:85%;">**</span> that had fallen from my sandwich, my bee friend found himself satiated and went on for porkier pastures.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Then came</span> the pigeons (in frankonology "rats with wings"). I'm not sure why they decided to come settle at my feet, as I wasn't nearly as appealing as the large man spreading breadcrumbs around the corner (I've really never understood people who seek out these infested creatures). I've got absolutely no time for birds of any kind that come begging for food...in fact, I've got absolutely no time for anything that begs for anything, except maybe the cute Tijuanan boy selling chilclett...I love me some chiclett. Well, soon enough the birds had their fill of the measly pickins in my area and, all at once, decided to head back to tubby with the breadcrumbs. They all began flapping and flying in my direction, narrowly missing my terrified face. This hubub caused me to shriek out and take cover, to the amusement of my lunching neighbors.<br /><br />But, have no fear. This is only the <span style="font-size:130%;">second</span> most embarrassing thing that happened to me today. I started the day off with a face plant as I boarded my bus this morning...a bus that had already left the station and kindly stopped to pick me up on the side of the street as I flagged it down (today I promise I wasn't late...there is a new driver and I swear her clock is fast). Needless to say, if all the passengers weren't already looking to see who was holding up their morning commute, they sure were after the loud crash and squeal that announced my arrival.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">*Not the kind one might cover with doilies.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">**Not chops, which I have also been known to eat outside.</span>Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-8323104329290839732008-07-22T14:09:00.000-07:002008-07-22T14:59:51.164-07:00It's getting worse<span style="font-size:180%;">I thought</span> by being open about my new <a href="http://missreneeswildride.blogspot.com/2008/07/loser.html">problem</a> it would make it go away. The <a href="http://recovery.org/aa/misc/12steps.html">first step</a> to rehab is admission that I have a problem, right? Wrong...<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">This weekend</span>, while on a lovely getaway to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bend,_Oregon">Bend, OR</a> with my roommate Ashley, I left my cell phone at the <a href="http://www.izzysonline.com/">pizza/salad buffet</a> where we were having dinner. Luckily it wasn't stolen and I was able to retrieve it when we went back.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Not that</span> the cell phone would have done anyone a lick of good. Ol' celly is nearly dead and is fast approaching the grave. In fact, I think tomorrow she'll go to that great place where all cell phones eventually go (the mouth of a friend's baby...what is it about babies' fascination with cell phones?). I've been meaning to get a new phone, and a new phone number, and a new provider for almost a year now. I get no cell phone coverage in my house, I'm still paying taxes on a California number, and my phone doesn't hold a charge for half a day. Now, aside from the charge problem, I'm not able to send text messages and the phone doesn't notify me if I have incoming calls or messages (until I see the little voicemail icon). The alarm didn't even work this morning. The screen also freezes and it looks like I've stayed connected on a call for 10+ hours. I hope I'm not being charged for this!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">So tomorrow</span>, I shall finally make the great switch from Sprint to Verizon, thereby being able to chat endlessly to my family and friends (Desiree...don't wet yourself, I'll still be on my way somewhere when we talk...and <span style="font-size:130%;">HAPPY BIRTHDAY</span> if you happen to be reading this today). I'll somehow let you all know if I end up getting a new number with my new phone...but that might be too much change for me in one day. Besides, at the rate I'm going, who knows if I'll be able to remember it.Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-90801966264017251762008-07-14T16:41:00.000-07:002008-07-14T23:47:54.915-07:00Loser<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisBJKr80cgScYxGy3ejCpsJyouG9RyPhky5t_gG2JLU_pN8rZ7KnFkh5zTyTxVzTKzudZfzoV4sEM8I3jAUvac7tNqKirCv2mUUn-rj3dlSWHMz1Q4qOzokwNHeHAUl51bm5sRcDlRJls/s1600-h/Loser.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223128053799816930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisBJKr80cgScYxGy3ejCpsJyouG9RyPhky5t_gG2JLU_pN8rZ7KnFkh5zTyTxVzTKzudZfzoV4sEM8I3jAUvac7tNqKirCv2mUUn-rj3dlSWHMz1Q4qOzokwNHeHAUl51bm5sRcDlRJls/s400/Loser.gif" border="0" /></a> <div><div>Mama said I'd lose my head</div><div>If it wasn't fastened on.</div><div>Today I guess it wasn't</div><div>'Cause while playing with my cousin</div><div>It fell off and rolled away</div><div>And now its gone. </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>And I can't look for it</div><div>'Cause my eyes are in it,</div><div>And I can't call to it</div><div>'Cause my mouth is on it</div><div>(Couldn't hear me anyway</div><div>'Cause my ears are on it),</div><div>Can't even think about it</div><div>'Cause my brain is in it.</div><div>So I guess I'll sit down</div><div>On this rock</div><div>And rest for just a minute…</div><br /><div>~Shel Silverstein</div><br /><div></div><div>I recited this poem for an audience in 4th grade. Who knew the foreshadowing this poem held for me 20 years later. In the last 2 weeks I've managed to leave my camera at the Fourth of July Fireworks at Tigard HS (never to be seen again) and my hiking shoes at the trail head for Saddle Mountain (luckily found awaiting me hours later when we returned for them...thanks Craig!!). What is happening to me? All of my friends tell me you start to lose your mind and forget things once you have kids. I think it's only coincidental that it happens then and really I think it's just about getting old. I've never been one to forget things...my red/type A/anal retentive (whatever you choose to call it) personality won't allow for it. So, either I'm loosening up in my 30s, or I'm losing my mind. Either way, it's resulting in losing stuff, which I'm not happy about. Am I going to turn into my mother and attach anything of value to my person or their designated location with an old brown piece of yarn? So help me... </div><br /><div></div><div>P.S. Due to the loss of the camera, a post on the trek will be forthcoming...sorry for the delay. Stay tuned!</div></div>Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-29626540671775915902008-06-23T14:42:00.000-07:002008-06-23T16:22:13.734-07:00Calling All StalkersFYI: If you are a stalker on this blog and you happen to run into me at Joann Fabrics in Tigard on a Saturday afternoon, don’t be afraid to say hi!! As awkward as you think the conversation might be, I’d love to meet you!*<br /><br />*unless you are a creepy person who’s not a friend of a friend of a friend and you are planning to lure me to your unmarked van with candy and then kill me. I would not love to meet you.Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-4031018714045422622008-06-14T13:47:00.000-07:002008-06-14T14:00:40.595-07:00The GameAs has been previously <a href="http://missreneeswildride.blogspot.com/2007/09/peeping-tom.html">mentioned</a> (I seem to be saying that a lot lately) I have a LOVE of other people's photos. So, when I saw this game on <a href="http://gravityfailed.blogspot.com/">Sara's blog</a>, I had to play along. Here is my resulting mosaic.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211842686726109794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQcaMGu0O9-kL3hU2rb_81Zr_-lvZZhy6Ey4vaVtukVMBy3GizuMlGXEcktRYUuOLmllU5vPhDNp9MTwbMBgtR94NC-k-wfElIwT8tG8SDH1hUqP0IQoNeerfL9KRUIyWRi5ibB1fB0WY/s320/mosaic861360.jpg" border="0" />Want to play? Here's how:<br /><br />a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into <a href="http://www.flickr.com/search/">Flickr Search</a>.<br />b. Using only the first page, pick an image.<br />c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into <a href="http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/mosaic.php">fd's mosaic maker</a>.<br /><br />The Questions:<br />1. What is your first name?<br />2. What is your favorite food?<br />3. What high school did you go to?<br />4. What is your favorite color?<br />5. Who is your celebrity crush?<br />6. Favorite drink?<br />7. Dream vacation?<br />8. Favorite dessert?<br />9. What you want to be when you grow up?<br />10. What do you love most in life?<br />11. One Word to describe you.<br />12. Your flickr name. (kid version: favorite animal?)<br /><br />photo credits: 1. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bemjjg/2390215380/">Renee</a>, 2. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/neosubz/991639499/">Pad Thai - Closeup Pad Thai</a>, 3. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jenbee/1936578117/">Hey, Hot Shot! Entries: Remi Thornton</a>, 4. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/12186421@N00/1497780878/">Pink for the Cure</a>, 5. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/smokey_blue/391778766/">Pace Family</a>, 6. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/missdxb/100038625/">cocacola</a>, 7. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/swigart/447652225/">Belize 020</a>, 8. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bakerella/2224040183/">Chocolate Cake Balls</a>, 9. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/renatoleme/1804232356/">MOMMY & BABY / MAMÃE E BEBÊ</a>, 10. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jek-a-go-go/135432794/">fisher price lil people</a>, 11. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/exhibitj/201544307/">Genuine Smile</a>, 12. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/arnitr/2103879350/">A Star and an Elephant</a>Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-87035213645371036992008-06-04T19:29:00.001-07:002008-06-05T15:20:26.270-07:00Gimpy McGimpersonIt was the last two minutes of our indoor soccer game on Tuesday night. I went hard for a ball in the corner, determined to score at least one goal in our currently 0-5 game. Just one goal!! Well, apparently I was a little too determined, because I rolled over my ankle, heard a little snap, crackle, and pop, and I was down for the count. I've sprained many an ankle before, but never had the pain been this bad. I can usually "walk it off" or at least "walk off the field" but not this time. I had to literally be carried off the field. The injury necessitated a trip to the ER later that night and since then I've been sitting on my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">toosh</span> trying to rest it. Here is what I've learned in my days of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">invalidacy</span> (is that a word??):<br /><br />1. It takes an act of God to get me to slow down. I've been ridiculously exhausted over the last week and half and there was no end in sight. I think this sprain was God's way of telling me that I need to take a break and have a rest.<br /><br />2. I have amazing friends! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_wM4iCD_QIwAIR-Bot2-il-XUPPaAVNLSUYTZnYZj5EhcHfFfwHHoXmVIZ72M4zr8zgwOONsD9pWcloxifK4kBYFrPVtHXK6R-fMMzrhABCzow2kJerDFTz-U4wsibOtT16YM6r4rwkc/s1600-h/Gimpy+004.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208523308591704258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_wM4iCD_QIwAIR-Bot2-il-XUPPaAVNLSUYTZnYZj5EhcHfFfwHHoXmVIZ72M4zr8zgwOONsD9pWcloxifK4kBYFrPVtHXK6R-fMMzrhABCzow2kJerDFTz-U4wsibOtT16YM6r4rwkc/s200/Gimpy+004.jpg" border="0" /></a>Everyone was so helpful from getting me ice, to getting me home, to getting me food, to giving me a blessing, to taking me to the ER, to checking up on me. I am so blessed to have such good people in my life.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWzEUZoc5URehr3SSc3Kvs6pZ6ZIli0R36D60Q1ZXSnK0Bfmw74iMIrt2lp6FlNBzY2SrIT-ufsF_0lpuihtue55TLLPQDQORqb8wQAse8MriXIdYBMyKvpa-ROvfO7L9emC_wonrlmc/s1600-h/Gimpy+007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208522879094974642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWzEUZoc5URehr3SSc3Kvs6pZ6ZIli0R36D60Q1ZXSnK0Bfmw74iMIrt2lp6FlNBzY2SrIT-ufsF_0lpuihtue55TLLPQDQORqb8wQAse8MriXIdYBMyKvpa-ROvfO7L9emC_wonrlmc/s200/Gimpy+007.jpg" border="0" /></a>3. I sort of love going to the ER. This is probably because I've never had a horrible or traumatic experience there (well, I take that back, a few were bad). But, mostly they've been for sprained ankles...and those trips are fun. Your friends are there, you get to play with the hospital equipment (last time this involved me being inverted in my hospital bed by Scott and Joe when the doctor finally came in), and just hanging out.<br /><br />4. I have discovered the best kept secret hospital in the Portland area. I'm not going to tell you what it is or else it won't be a secret anymore, but we were in and out of the ER in less than an hour (including check-in, x-rays, doctor's chat, splinting, crutches, and a conversation with the nurse about indoor soccer). And everyone there was SUPER friendly and fun. They made for a great ER experience!<br /><br />5. I hate crutches. I used them for about 5 minutes to get into the house after the hospital and they've since been ditched. I'd rather hobble around like a gimp. The doctor says it's good for healing :) I might be singing a different tune when I go back to work tomorrow and I'll bring them just in case. But I won't be happy about it.<br /><br />6. As much as I thought I'd love to have a few days at home with nothing to do but watch TV and check email...I'm bored out of my mind. My <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">toosh</span> hurts and I wish I could get off this couch and do something. I'm definitely well rested, but also a little stir crazy. It's funny how when I have full use of all my limbs I don't want to go to the gym...but now all I can think about is going for a run.<br /><br />7. (this one I already knew) I hate the fact that I don't bruise. When I get hurt badly, I want something to show for it. But no, I get a perfectly flesh colored ankle that's a little swollen. Why can't I get all black and blue and that sick yellow color (like this). I need war wounds...I've got nothing to show for it!!<br /><br /><div align="center">Larry vs. Me<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFLUIRHKC1C404Yxa2BEnu0fpmiW9oC2aJymZ9J9TM_HsKguSgZjgxZx_mXJbl1SpoSpj2gnxz6PzIxPBy0DkZ97fEWRQVw-LOXynBIELiEgOBRb0bjnsNl_IP-NDYNN0PTvI-VrbbqU/s1600-h/Gimpy+006.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208518618487416978" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 156px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px" height="260" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFLUIRHKC1C404Yxa2BEnu0fpmiW9oC2aJymZ9J9TM_HsKguSgZjgxZx_mXJbl1SpoSpj2gnxz6PzIxPBy0DkZ97fEWRQVw-LOXynBIELiEgOBRb0bjnsNl_IP-NDYNN0PTvI-VrbbqU/s320/Gimpy+006.jpg" width="195" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkC7PIRKHLpqsPu77NKoIya_VIkCQLPZnkaQ_Si-sWhp7xUqpwYcgNitpveBY1DvnGw9OVKohAtd2333ss-9amQznd2yKqTO7MorqjxE-3a-RuYYcNqaNvzOTdQ-V2UOVul5p2x5h5y8/s1600-h/Larry's+bruise.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208519537610418338" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 215px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 169px" height="192" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkC7PIRKHLpqsPu77NKoIya_VIkCQLPZnkaQ_Si-sWhp7xUqpwYcgNitpveBY1DvnGw9OVKohAtd2333ss-9amQznd2yKqTO7MorqjxE-3a-RuYYcNqaNvzOTdQ-V2UOVul5p2x5h5y8/s320/Larry's+bruise.jpg" width="271" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />(<em>check below for all of the posts that I started weeks ago and am only now getting to finish. Thank goodness for an injury and a few days off, huh??</em>)Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3455913441186752193.post-81918608047008942802008-05-14T09:55:00.000-07:002008-06-05T15:45:42.923-07:00I Love Visitors - Emily EditionI think I've mentioned it before, but I've had more visitors in the year I've lived in Portland than I did in the entire 4 years I was in LA. Maybe even more than LA plus the 3 years I was in DC! I'm telling you...Portland is the new vacation destination! Come and check it out for yourself!! In light of this, I'm instituting "I Love Visitors" as a new spot on the blog. (watch, this will jinx me and I won't get any more).<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208531417489959122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ohtys3RfEzZbLGDSHQMXwnaRKwZtgzd5S2c3eUCDDqaGadd8Ro8AGCEJ_8TdR_jxETAg9O1tjfKJQSPUUcbLtpP067yvOCjCSLEQ2UcFclCcLans6tVYD6FFix6SPLID2-kocESOLrQ/s320/Emily's+visit+001.jpg" border="0" /><br />Little Miss Emily came for a visit to Portland a few weeks ago! It was SO great to see her!! She did a pretty good job of outlining the trip on her <a href="http://theadventuresofemily.blogspot.com/">blog</a>. I went down to Eugene to pick her up and spent a lovely evening with her aunt and uncle who were very fun and hospitable. We had a great dinner, slept in, looked at her uncle's new koi pond, and then had a nice drive up to Portland. We spent our time shopping, eating, touring historical <a href="http://pittockmansion.com/">sites</a>, watching great <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0970468/">movies</a>, and hiking in the rain. We even did a bunch of things I've never done before like happy hour at Jake's Famous Crawfish, The Chinese Gardens, and a great hike in Northwest. These things will definitely be added to the Portland visitors' itinerary. It was such a fun trip, and mostly just great to hang out with Em. Thanks for coming Emily!! I hope you come back soon!Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07244194827132510330noreply@blogger.com4