tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84705867247599564932024-02-20T19:36:13.637-08:00Intimately RearrangedLindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-58666943184073948652009-03-12T01:09:00.001-07:002009-04-01T22:22:37.673-07:00So, I am apparently not one for blogging since I have not even logged onto this blasted site since November. I have been contemplating the whole concept of blogging. It is a super fabulous tool for people who have an audience, a following, or a customer base. And there are a select few persons out there who really kick ass at it (take Little Red Bike for instance). I followed some vegan blogs pretty religiously for quite some time to stay on my health path, connect, get recipes, etc. It has it's purpose for sure. I attempted to continue the circle, post recipes and share motivation for like-minded food lovers looking for some vegan love. I guess I don't need to state that I failed, and pretty miserably at that.<br /><br />You see, I have no such purpose, no such audience. For a while I thought, who the hell do I think I am? No one in the whole world is so interested in me, in my life, in what I have to say, to check up on what random thoughts I may have posted on the internets. Then I thought, Hey! What does blogging do for <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span>? (Yes, I am that selfish.) Does it make me feel more connected? Most certainly not! Personal blogging gives people a way to check up on me without having to pick up the phone, an excuse to isolate one another even more in our modern world. I understand this could be seen as a plus to some, like hermit crabs or people who like to spy on people they know. I suppose that is what Facebook is for, and I am admittedly hooked, so I'm just a hypocrite.<br /><br />Basically, what I am saying is that this is my last blog. I know you are all shedding tears over this devastating piece of information, but I have to do something a little more validating in my life right now.<br /><br />You may be asking yourself why I even bothered to write this out at 2am on a Thursday morning. Why can't I just disappear into the abyss like any other normal blog quitter? Good question, and for anyone who has gotten this far along in this rambling post- wow. Nonetheless, here's the answer (bare with me here). When people fall, they have the choice to go down with flailing arms, kicking screaming, creating utter chaos around them and eventually drowning in a pool of panic and destructive behavior. Or, they can fall gracefully (as much as is humanly possible) and glide along until they find the strength to get back up and fight their battle on two feet.<br /><br />We all fall (so I am told), we all even sink sometimes. But I think it's all about surrendering. Because you can't let go and move on without surrendering to whatever it is that defeated you. You have to acknowledge that you are on your ass in order to be willing to stand back up.<br /><br />Don't think for one little second that this means I have run out of things to say, run out of meaningful thoughts, have run out of crazy accounts of the experiences I have in life. These things will not cease until my soul has left my weary shell. But they will not be shared here, will not be given over to the void of passer-byers, or more so the lack thereof.<br /><br />So now you are probably saying who the hell cares? Right. Well, I am making an effort in the life to acknowledge things that hold meaning in my life, or the things that have meant a great deal to me in the past. Essentially I am hell bent on finishing what I started. Even if finishing means saying goodbye. It's the goodbyes that I have never been good at. So why not start in a place not so dear to my heart, one with little (no) audience right?<br /><br />After being attacked by some heroin addict whack-a-do for saving his brother's life, and losing the best friend I have ever had all in a matter of a few days, I have decided that I clearly need to redirect my karma or I won't survive the spring. And I am really looking forward to a Portland summer. So, don't be surprised if you get some unexpected visit, note/mystery box, or phone call. It's just me, keeping up in finishing what I start. Whether it be a long deserved thank you, a reminder how important you are in my life, or even an official goodbye (as this one is supposed to be).<br /><br />Cheers to all. May all of your wildest dreams come true!Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-25503405404761491442008-11-23T00:11:00.000-08:002008-11-23T15:20:02.657-08:00semi-sweet blissIt has been absolutely frigid in my apartment lately. Not to mention incredibly lonely without Abe's presence. I have been biking over to good old Jim and Patty's for their fabulous 12oz Girl Power (a special matcha green tea soy latte) for a feel-good imbibe. But, they tragically close at 4pm. Being a night-shifter, this just does not work for me on frequent occasions. Other days I just don't feel like getting geared up to go out of the house. I have found a delightful remedy for such days, one that allows me to stay at home in my cozy booties and warm up from the inside out! Here is my new favorite hot chocolate recipe:<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Vanilla, Cardimom, and Cinnamon Infused Hot Chocola</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">te</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrUTkhx20C-vFkuAPN7ayCQBwUWjDC0Rim9ETlezyPSDAjpUMQ-F-fwpBwB9x8YjJwuz4eT_AolZRtg-2YP32wNNlusshLS7EEbnUn5Dx7CJJr2OBnhngWjF8kn3UX-zxBOgsbC1m9kc/s1600-h/hot+chocolate.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrUTkhx20C-vFkuAPN7ayCQBwUWjDC0Rim9ETlezyPSDAjpUMQ-F-fwpBwB9x8YjJwuz4eT_AolZRtg-2YP32wNNlusshLS7EEbnUn5Dx7CJJr2OBnhngWjF8kn3UX-zxBOgsbC1m9kc/s400/hot+chocolate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271768925272898530" border="0" /></a><br />40 oz of milk of your choice ( I use rice milk)<br />1-2 cinnamon sticks depending on how much you like cinnamon<br />1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract<br />4 whole cardimom seeds<br />1 cup chocolate chips of choice (I use vegan semi-sweet)<br /><br />Heat milk, cinnamon sticks, vanilla, and cardimom seeds in saucepan over medium heat. When mixture begins to boil, reduce heat and stir in chocolate chips. Stir continuously until the chocolate is all melted. Discard the cardimom seeds and cinnamon stick, froth mixture and pour into mugs. Enjoy<em></em> chocolatiers!Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-44241661067397780222008-11-13T12:35:00.000-08:002008-11-18T18:45:06.443-08:00It's official<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3UCT5MrpPZQQvyhs7FqGbxlMmr6NFr2nABzP_jakERQQKkouONDAOlAZ0TGIxj77UHWLRd-V3QRJKnHrMLRTPTtbghbOZ5bapw3frvq5S6mwpgvuUz6dF9TSbHO-hgbuzxJoAs4B5Eeo/s1600-h/persimmon.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3UCT5MrpPZQQvyhs7FqGbxlMmr6NFr2nABzP_jakERQQKkouONDAOlAZ0TGIxj77UHWLRd-V3QRJKnHrMLRTPTtbghbOZ5bapw3frvq5S6mwpgvuUz6dF9TSbHO-hgbuzxJoAs4B5Eeo/s200/persimmon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270193296168699554" border="0" /></a>I have been vegan for a month. Successfully. In celebration, here is my new favorite salad. One that balances the fall fruits and spices of the season ever so deliciously. I finally found a good use for persimmons! Cheers!<br /><br /><br /><br />Autumnal Arugula Salad...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiIHTBj5lRVCNvT_R-obEerjisHHOjv6OygEH5aZXld-hr7sTkg3TzBQNwwzrlI4WRMVImlQMRngfzTecA53PeBr2mDCCIZbPnwlMycHKYyCoasvAL26G_wYxffhtHj0-sKLbphvpik2Y/s1600-h/Autumnal+Arugula.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiIHTBj5lRVCNvT_R-obEerjisHHOjv6OygEH5aZXld-hr7sTkg3TzBQNwwzrlI4WRMVImlQMRngfzTecA53PeBr2mDCCIZbPnwlMycHKYyCoasvAL26G_wYxffhtHj0-sKLbphvpik2Y/s320/Autumnal+Arugula.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270190424799047442" border="0" /></a>complete with Fuyu persimmon, caramelized Red Bartlet pears, pomegranate seeds<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORgkrjG66651yxFlooQ5-NjxG1fuzd7zcHFghyjmXAQiYSR7nXDMb4yhI7p9E8oB6zuPvx6b7vSUllDsCnKloktpX10NQOO51cWKf-mTf4dh0iPkOVLOilZ9-vPmKEe-wv65qez8soeU/s1600-h/just+like+honey.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORgkrjG66651yxFlooQ5-NjxG1fuzd7zcHFghyjmXAQiYSR7nXDMb4yhI7p9E8oB6zuPvx6b7vSUllDsCnKloktpX10NQOO51cWKf-mTf4dh0iPkOVLOilZ9-vPmKEe-wv65qez8soeU/s200/just+like+honey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270191418116303506" border="0" /></a>, and cinnamon and chilli roasted hazelnuts. All tossed in a lemon-honey dijon dressing. Goat cheese crumbles would be a perfect addition to this salad for all you dairy loving dames or dudes.<br /><br />P.S.- Suzanne's Just Like Honey Rice Nectar rocks my world. I used it in the salad dressing (among many other things).Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-3937753774082071962008-11-04T03:32:00.000-08:002008-11-04T03:42:34.481-08:00Barack of Love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirwGaFpsaugu37jpdAawbsCsFezABLGXbYux7ODgauC0juQ9obgtqG-3pXREDvPRktHKUM8WUc-FBSyz3ZgYLMblIQAbCXR0EvA8XAPRGGYnBSY9Qi8P8LUuC9eJ8Sq0JD-VcQLEYc754/s1600-h/barack+of+love.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirwGaFpsaugu37jpdAawbsCsFezABLGXbYux7ODgauC0juQ9obgtqG-3pXREDvPRktHKUM8WUc-FBSyz3ZgYLMblIQAbCXR0EvA8XAPRGGYnBSY9Qi8P8LUuC9eJ8Sq0JD-VcQLEYc754/s320/barack+of+love.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264765434424963586" border="0" /></a>Happy Election Day! If you haven't already... go vote bitches!Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-31543065222781578442008-10-20T18:20:00.000-07:002008-10-26T11:49:18.641-07:00sweet toothI am becoming quite domestic as of late, scary stuff. Anyhow, I have been having a really bad sweet tooth. I could always reach for the Coconut Bliss ice cream, but I was feeling the need to experiment and create. I ended up concocting an almond cake with olive oil and an Asian pear topping with drizzled "caramel". Here's the recipe for anyone who is interested. Not too shabby for my first attempt at vegan cake.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfiZgbMz5bd-aV1sFGRZrmsXnfs8qNXSCIesAy-FIZDaxLBCvSdMSUi9pTI-ZkbVMPpe809mf4oHCvcFWcdKo_2-8WfCgwO3FWl4-vofZbBVwnA-g3tIHPeqp5gaPdvPjj8Cvmt_cTR3c/s1600-h/almond+cake.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfiZgbMz5bd-aV1sFGRZrmsXnfs8qNXSCIesAy-FIZDaxLBCvSdMSUi9pTI-ZkbVMPpe809mf4oHCvcFWcdKo_2-8WfCgwO3FWl4-vofZbBVwnA-g3tIHPeqp5gaPdvPjj8Cvmt_cTR3c/s200/almond+cake.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261536375680547170" border="0" /></a><br />Almond Cake with Olive Oil<br /><br />*3 cups whole wheat flour<br />*1/3 cup olive oil<br />*1 cup vanilla rice milk<br />*1 T baking powder<br />*3/4 t salt<br />* 1 t almond extract<br />* 1 T vanilla extract<br />*1 & 1/3 cup unbleached cane sugar<br /><br />Blend ingredients together in a bowl, pour into a greased 9x9 pan, and bake for 22-25 minutes at 350. To make the carmel drizzle, heat 1/4 cup vegan margarine, 2 T brown sugar, and 1/4 cup real maple syrup on low until the sugar melts completely and then bring to boil for one minute , then remove from heat. Enjoy!Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-65325161590928604172008-10-19T03:03:00.000-07:002008-11-14T09:45:10.174-08:00Make new friends, and recycle the old...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTXu14ApCa7faFRoc17LAOQ9CmYft1VH4FaWluYTKPIMQUS3wsTNnpiXkBQVN_iqQD6Ukj5HXSEqUPKC_oCQhuM7as0WNbV3EFJyen63Pnv4wF5wKl2dUyg_d0ymsucaxrwV_mK7xTi5o/s1600-h/crimson.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTXu14ApCa7faFRoc17LAOQ9CmYft1VH4FaWluYTKPIMQUS3wsTNnpiXkBQVN_iqQD6Ukj5HXSEqUPKC_oCQhuM7as0WNbV3EFJyen63Pnv4wF5wKl2dUyg_d0ymsucaxrwV_mK7xTi5o/s200/crimson.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268570021683493698" border="0" /></a>In regards to i-pods of course! My nano died today. I am devastated. Before I go procure a new one, I would like to take a moment and give thanks to all that my nannner has done for me. It kept me company on my bike rides, it motivated me on runs and at the gym, it allowed me to sing along in the shower, it helped me cope with my emotions and times of heartache with emo tunes, it enabled me to ignore annoyances while on public transit... so thank you Crimson, for all the good times.<br /><br />Update as of 11-03-2008: I have already acquired a new i-pod. I know, it seems too quick to move on, but my new nano and I are fast friends. He matches my Puegot almost perfectly. A nice little perk for those of you in the market: if you bring in your old i-pod to be recycled, the apple store will give you a 10% discount on your new one.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzABbgOzyyScvWSQFH0RTLXzMQt6Fk-KahqcSaqGLgtuEtYMUNvyKpWdO1aOQ9df-nfUHzXCaForI1-eEiPnaUOXurJxXWYdk-puX6q6DavguGfvve-u7FsS3-ARKGrw-1J5qCfPRc_p8/s1600-h/peugot's+pal.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 274px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzABbgOzyyScvWSQFH0RTLXzMQt6Fk-KahqcSaqGLgtuEtYMUNvyKpWdO1aOQ9df-nfUHzXCaForI1-eEiPnaUOXurJxXWYdk-puX6q6DavguGfvve-u7FsS3-ARKGrw-1J5qCfPRc_p8/s320/peugot's+pal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268570226426576898" border="0" /></a>Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-24374693262717078952008-10-13T23:52:00.000-07:002008-10-20T04:25:30.216-07:00All'a thatOh yes, this post is dedicated to all my fellow bootylicious gals.<br /><br />My evening started out nicely with a relaxing couple hours of arts and crafts. Then my pal Crystal called and we dilly dallied around town until ending up at a local pub. Crystal and I were up at the bar, sharing the weeks nursing horror stories and generally minding our own business. Out of nowhere, there is this unfamiliar voice in my ear asking if I'm really a nurse. I turn to find a gangster type inches away from my face. "That depends" I reply "Are you having some sort of emergency that requires medical attention?" Said thug, shakes his head no, laughing. "Well then, yes, I am a nurse." I didn't even care to ask what prompted such a question, I don't encourage eaves dropping by strange men. That, however, didn't matter. The interaction continued to my great dismay. "Daaaammn girl," accompanied by some serious elevator eyes "how do you fit all'a that into your nurses uniform?"<br /><br />What!?! Tears started welling up, and I proceeded to inform this stranger that nurses wear scrubs, scrubs that go up to size morbidly obese. The tears were now streaming, "as a matter of fact, I could fit my entire body into the leg of some of the scrubs bottoms stocked on the unit." He started back tracking, shaking his head violently "No, no, no, no, that is a compliment woman!" said the gangster. I stared at him blankly. How the hell any woman takes a man doubting her ability to fit into any outfit (especially scrubs) as a compliment, is truly beyond my comprehension.<br /><br />In spirit of having a J-Lo ass, I am making "All'a that Soup" for dinner. It mostly consists of vegetable broth, navy beans, veggies galore, and a wee bit of vegan sausage. Clearly I need to lose a few pounds of my "juice" as my friend Brian lovingly calls it, and hopefully this soup will ward off further inquiries as to how I get "all'a that" squeezed into my work attire. I leave you with the pictures detailing my soup creation, as I am headed out for a run with Abe.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinlm3Z0LqJFQ25raQ9CDDx4wbGZwsyfh2qujghg4bzD526Uf3rctNi3mRoZtgAHSYk12iIAoBDitFejuxsGvHwISuUGoykvE4F3ovUJJYu_AS1hnRi3FLPhQAdMLVuSfDawWoYEr-AzpQ/s1600-h/before+shot.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinlm3Z0LqJFQ25raQ9CDDx4wbGZwsyfh2qujghg4bzD526Uf3rctNi3mRoZtgAHSYk12iIAoBDitFejuxsGvHwISuUGoykvE4F3ovUJJYu_AS1hnRi3FLPhQAdMLVuSfDawWoYEr-AzpQ/s200/before+shot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259191677275064626" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe5lWSxVDcyL6WzG0Db2rB45ipi5yETQSfyXkI4OUD-PpXQDz0HrLYoiChiXd-s5TEm5o1RGHHtSb6WPSak6xOVfeOheSt451oG3gTjD71nr0spe1Jd-4q0OJOE3T3joUU5OAeyOM_J1A/s1600-h/all+o+that+stew.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 281px; height: 209px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe5lWSxVDcyL6WzG0Db2rB45ipi5yETQSfyXkI4OUD-PpXQDz0HrLYoiChiXd-s5TEm5o1RGHHtSb6WPSak6xOVfeOheSt451oG3gTjD71nr0spe1Jd-4q0OJOE3T3joUU5OAeyOM_J1A/s200/all+o+that+stew.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259191441058669746" border="0" /></a>Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-79021062736287692592008-10-12T23:30:00.000-07:002008-11-03T08:48:50.045-08:00Going vegan for a month...I have decided that tomorrow starts a month of eating a vegan diet. Absurd you say? What the hell is an Andina, Toro Bravo and cheese addict thinking switching to a vegan diet? I know, I know... I have my doubts as well, I'm only making a claim to TRY it, so calm down. Not that I am not making a whole-hearted effort here, because I absolutely am. In all honesty, I am hoping to make this a permanent lifestyle for health purposes, but I need to see the impact it will have on my diabetes before I commit. Tim's fabulous gourmet food pictures do not give me much faith of leaving it all behind, but here goes. Oh, Mom, I know when you read this you are going to begin a tailspin of worry. Stop. I have the go-ahead from my NP, and according to a study in a British nutrition journal, vegans have lower blood pressure, lower blood triglyceride levels, and lower fasting blood glucose levels related to the glycemic index of many staples in the diet as well as increased pancreatic beta-cell function. And, they live 15 years longer than meat-eaters. And, yes, I am still coming home for Thanksgiving.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsNJi850e2x1tvui4N_texIDafLEpXWb8OPX5fiFAPZAW87KRG0u9vkPbxy4KT_OfvymamLFyBP3NZRAK_3CjQ_iqZF8CCorA23LgNb9orD4eJOzhjFQeuc5WWWmRiOTTEcFtvWIHJ0sg/s1600-h/MS+Quorn.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsNJi850e2x1tvui4N_texIDafLEpXWb8OPX5fiFAPZAW87KRG0u9vkPbxy4KT_OfvymamLFyBP3NZRAK_3CjQ_iqZF8CCorA23LgNb9orD4eJOzhjFQeuc5WWWmRiOTTEcFtvWIHJ0sg/s200/MS+Quorn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258802284567544034" border="0" /></a>Speaking of tailspins of worry, I'm a little anxious parting ways with egg whites. My two main diet staples of MorningStar sausage patties and Quorn chicken patties both include egg whites in their list of ingredients. That is unfortunate. You know what else is unfortunate? Meats; fish; dairy; unorganic veggies, fruits and legumes; even my beloved egg whites have traces of BHC, chlordane, dieldrin, heptachlor, and dioxin. All of these ingredients are pesticides that happen to be anywhere from 4-83 times more carcinogic than DDT- which was banned in the early 70's by the EPA. In other words, eating these things are not good for warding off cancer. My Physiology professor, Dr. Keyes, gave us all sorts of items to put on our list of things to avoid in life. I've tried hard to stick to the list, and cancer was in the top five. I have already had it once, so I'm going to try my best to keep it away.<br /><br />I adore the taste of feta, gogonzola, brie, gouda. I'm also quite keen on cottage cheese and greek yogurt. Not so good news for this dairy loving gal: dairy products have been linked to acne, anemia, anxiety, arthritis, ADD/ADHD, breast cancer, Crohn's, diabetes, fibromyalgia, headaches, heart disease, IBS, obesity, osteoperosis, ovarian cancer, poor digestion, poor immunity, and prostate cancer. Who knows how much of this is founded by legitimate scientific research, but I can't knock it until I try it right?<br /><br />Below is a spread of groceries I purchased to begin my journey. Any brilliant recipes or words of vegan wisdom would be appreciated if you feel the need. I will try to post ones that I fall in love with as I stumble upon them. Well, wish me luck (or call me names and doubt my fortitude if you want, really). Either way I will keep those who care updated. On that note, I am going to Nicholas to enjoy a vegan meza platter with my pal Crystal. Cheers!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWoB_vjgr-iUFjwC54itcNPs2xaBfSUiJD5M0afbWsECkgvSm7GxiTw7XT_7ImTVfSnUBI3dRGrG9Jz7IFt-grWf81U6zF3VXE9cIeV5_wjDiKVww0iZhUzpaO1xyhbp3NmnzCIP7gV0Q/s1600-h/vegan+fare.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWoB_vjgr-iUFjwC54itcNPs2xaBfSUiJD5M0afbWsECkgvSm7GxiTw7XT_7ImTVfSnUBI3dRGrG9Jz7IFt-grWf81U6zF3VXE9cIeV5_wjDiKVww0iZhUzpaO1xyhbp3NmnzCIP7gV0Q/s400/vegan+fare.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258802859342344386" border="0" /></a>Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-17150471842967041102008-09-22T23:19:00.000-07:002008-10-10T23:19:49.960-07:00Stepping up to the futureI guess I don't have a lot to say, so this is more of an update on my previous declaration of bucking up. Many of my posts have been rather depressing, so I would like to dedicate this post to the things I am excited about and the positive experiences I have had recently.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWBZ90k-1G4tNlSxDlDDoWFN9eQ7Vw-uMX4Z0p9lyXhaTDu8iA6FDvHv7CWmngED6gltXhFilDnjmmwpjtlPZT4px0x8yuYaqEgAQlLMENAzeYHAozG88fsUb1MfBj0GfWJtaJ5wksrzo/s1600-h/peugot+emblem+.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 72px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWBZ90k-1G4tNlSxDlDDoWFN9eQ7Vw-uMX4Z0p9lyXhaTDu8iA6FDvHv7CWmngED6gltXhFilDnjmmwpjtlPZT4px0x8yuYaqEgAQlLMENAzeYHAozG88fsUb1MfBj0GfWJtaJ5wksrzo/s200/peugot+emblem+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249117731893527986" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXC1wo4F0R8LfQhNEnTFBOfUj3cHDU3J_WuQRl1U0jNCez2f2qZiIoBlmT0jDkJ7pCoYbhZEsTYLECiG5qH6vnLFg_yrE0wZ0bHh0XINzVkW511YLG5xNbDcgqMu-SX98bWChXccaY0zA/s1600-h/peugot+1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 97px; height: 72px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXC1wo4F0R8LfQhNEnTFBOfUj3cHDU3J_WuQRl1U0jNCez2f2qZiIoBlmT0jDkJ7pCoYbhZEsTYLECiG5qH6vnLFg_yrE0wZ0bHh0XINzVkW511YLG5xNbDcgqMu-SX98bWChXccaY0zA/s200/peugot+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249117597446070274" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX-F1kGmXI7Fx8WNI4aCAKItivIIU-eI8MXYa6oUWC2QbwkolrYx_0vzla7e6v61gujj2U2G36TY7lWHzExoavlVTGeQvp5JGwq3Oxawj7FtKWYOilpefZk-g_1Dx0Dkn5M6qalZNxkTo/s1600-h/shwinn+approved.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 73px; height: 68px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX-F1kGmXI7Fx8WNI4aCAKItivIIU-eI8MXYa6oUWC2QbwkolrYx_0vzla7e6v61gujj2U2G36TY7lWHzExoavlVTGeQvp5JGwq3Oxawj7FtKWYOilpefZk-g_1Dx0Dkn5M6qalZNxkTo/s200/shwinn+approved.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249118084812838722" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqPV2kWUbc00ekmLlMf3XCu2nXwhM0bFnA1qch5pZF-b6330qm00j3KNeIfpQfc4gbQcyH2avP8DNiY5zRSpJNtPBcxsUcN4Q2cOcifsDA6V1DsbOjhsINo9DhBNcHfEe0oAEiXgyrE8I/s1600-h/shwinn+plaque.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 70px; height: 93px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqPV2kWUbc00ekmLlMf3XCu2nXwhM0bFnA1qch5pZF-b6330qm00j3KNeIfpQfc4gbQcyH2avP8DNiY5zRSpJNtPBcxsUcN4Q2cOcifsDA6V1DsbOjhsINo9DhBNcHfEe0oAEiXgyrE8I/s200/shwinn+plaque.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249118276228876978" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I decided to finally give in to Portland's bike culture. I am not sure what my aversion was in the first place, but that is neither here nor there. I perused craigslist for quite a while, and ended up with a vintage schwinn that was hot off the back of some truck from the couve. I hated it, but it was cheap and easily spray painted into a ridiculous ride. Although functional for riding about town, it most certianly is not the ideal commuting bike. Mostly because it is a total tank, and heavier than tammy faye's makeup. So I procured a puprple mountain's majesty peugeot from the awesome guys at Better Cycle. It's a fabulously swift ride and I'm totally stoked to sport it to work.<br /><br />I have been fortunate enough to get a visit from my dad, he just left on Sunday. It was a great time to hang out and go on mini adventures to the beach, the rose garden and many of my favorite haunts (Toro Bravo, Andina, Costellos, Masu East, etc). I miss my family a lot, and although I need to figure myself out away from home, it is so amazing to spend time with people who have such unconditional love for you. I am a lucky girl!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAa-gnGtY4h-IaaLSqeO1v0-Z_Y5rQj4A2drVi4KoofVhd7FyKHoatOgdalNKE-O2-iV6HBdzeBc2d_FXJNxDICaFtjEwnBtNlRzFMVngZG9t-QxcO2ySqGyFDxeNDL1Y3L5KpJ-gBrw/s1600-h/raindrops+on+roses.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 129px; height: 101px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAa-gnGtY4h-IaaLSqeO1v0-Z_Y5rQj4A2drVi4KoofVhd7FyKHoatOgdalNKE-O2-iV6HBdzeBc2d_FXJNxDICaFtjEwnBtNlRzFMVngZG9t-QxcO2ySqGyFDxeNDL1Y3L5KpJ-gBrw/s200/raindrops+on+roses.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249117913713822514" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYLulnlzXhOsYGBfYa_RQTuZd_7tIm4nkIenHRGBNWnzdknWKs1A65ZLTuiLuROyy_BNIVXjtJDbb6VO3mnKgufVqyuPwDURj_2yclB1BAp4qsnoh6s45sp1XM36bcYP9I1MJA9qfmWkc/s1600-h/veins.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 74px; height: 110px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYLulnlzXhOsYGBfYa_RQTuZd_7tIm4nkIenHRGBNWnzdknWKs1A65ZLTuiLuROyy_BNIVXjtJDbb6VO3mnKgufVqyuPwDURj_2yclB1BAp4qsnoh6s45sp1XM36bcYP9I1MJA9qfmWkc/s200/veins.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249134083891585570" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8T0LhhpG2RE0jRn5D28_XkiC9XPeuqMZ5MPVWnXsgUkdNwqriYvH64_QkJgAlWiv0W7Gw7HCVdNZ7G5bWWnudbMiYAJk0o44ye7dKkxdRx-E7o_GUACINqpkH7EK4Cz5ldPHnVRBU3I/s1600-h/beachy+keen.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 117px; height: 87px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8T0LhhpG2RE0jRn5D28_XkiC9XPeuqMZ5MPVWnXsgUkdNwqriYvH64_QkJgAlWiv0W7Gw7HCVdNZ7G5bWWnudbMiYAJk0o44ye7dKkxdRx-E7o_GUACINqpkH7EK4Cz5ldPHnVRBU3I/s200/beachy+keen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249117255441027250" border="0" /></a><br />I also just finished my first day of orientation at Legacy- I will be working in the KERN ICU at Good Samaritan. I am totally atingle to discover that they have paid time off to volunteer or participate in community improvement programs. I have been really discouraged with healthcare in America, and this tiny little incentive has just given me a newfound sprightliness for trudging on in my dedication to better healthcare. I can tell you one thing, I will not miss the hell of highway 26 every morning on my way home from St. V's. Thank all good things for being able to part ways with the dreadful morning commute home when I could barely keep my eyes open. Don't let the picture of the glorious sunshine coming up over downtown fool you, it's not very thrilling at all. My emotions are captured while in traffic below. Yay.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4OpvIs0A2sUXz_fUekqgfiFPnooyZn4dJMzXQ31T-riNA7o_WBWbasIkzV3mQGcecr2L24wVmbaH_h6XB9YEHGGHeGGyuDjY3tSrvcQr9gZVS99ne8Mz_ha1VuKcO_aK3wdLWev7jQrU/s1600-h/dear+highway+26.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 106px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4OpvIs0A2sUXz_fUekqgfiFPnooyZn4dJMzXQ31T-riNA7o_WBWbasIkzV3mQGcecr2L24wVmbaH_h6XB9YEHGGHeGGyuDjY3tSrvcQr9gZVS99ne8Mz_ha1VuKcO_aK3wdLWev7jQrU/s200/dear+highway+26.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249117411420499458" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHht6jgmkFUmAUpGMI57c3VnXDiPLl25BtcXc-w7fGRmWI_mxwr57q6lwSCzqX4Qiff0xb5RiIWZ6jtwqBWn9Gm5YJfNRxG-XkhR7gPM1BPsnHGyQVK249A9CokZpxCFstDnL0PFEEmQ/s1600-h/so+over+it.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHht6jgmkFUmAUpGMI57c3VnXDiPLl25BtcXc-w7fGRmWI_mxwr57q6lwSCzqX4Qiff0xb5RiIWZ6jtwqBWn9Gm5YJfNRxG-XkhR7gPM1BPsnHGyQVK249A9CokZpxCFstDnL0PFEEmQ/s200/so+over+it.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249136564156630306" border="0" /></a><br />I am also working on revamping the apartment in preparation for living completely alone, since I am in the process of finding Abe a new home so he has a better life. I will have updates on this sometime in the near future. An eggplant colored couch is my muse for creating an inviting haven that I actually look forward to retreating to after a long day at work. More pictures to come...Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-22758153384684146072008-08-26T07:56:00.000-07:002008-09-22T23:15:14.516-07:00Farewell my black balloonOh my, oh <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3A5hBMT8IBUyurKMRDGhbEJUkkBZL8zIOAozzO7XNoSIDKmzneMMspx7Bwt_m3CeHeOcbm-C_VJwM7Jf5GVAolxIJ_fW3WDtv_VYg3Gxzfw4Gz3RTmAj0hso3BKtCd6_QU88cchcWjk/s1600-h/heart.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 117px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3A5hBMT8IBUyurKMRDGhbEJUkkBZL8zIOAozzO7XNoSIDKmzneMMspx7Bwt_m3CeHeOcbm-C_VJwM7Jf5GVAolxIJ_fW3WDtv_VYg3Gxzfw4Gz3RTmAj0hso3BKtCd6_QU88cchcWjk/s200/heart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249095810179189442" border="0" /></a>my. So many changes in a girls life! This summer has turned my world upsid<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4w5wh6snVMNBqVNta_an16XQ_GjiFBs6Q4U7atubR7EKwsHHNCljDoIwcOLrPOPU6FRc_MorqzkEqGAvT5YO9QrkTIobtNs31NGnoiebgCe2543Ra1g4a2snnGJRmKReuwCb44gLuxh4/s1600-h/blonde+locks.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 116px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4w5wh6snVMNBqVNta_an16XQ_GjiFBs6Q4U7atubR7EKwsHHNCljDoIwcOLrPOPU6FRc_MorqzkEqGAvT5YO9QrkTIobtNs31NGnoiebgCe2543Ra1g4a2snnGJRmKReuwCb44gLuxh4/s200/blonde+locks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249093695255520546" border="0" /></a>e-down. I have acquired three new hair colors, a new tattoo, a new pad, endured heartache that nearly consumed me, developed a new social group, embraced a new lifestyle and different form of transportation, and on September 22nd, I will have a new job.<br /><br />I started out the s<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0NgxwpB2xtDApvNgkqcG-d26YObXH4GgRx5nyZplPkrbqjrxwJxCR0RkVelLSlycwQzB1naA5LkcARkc_Be991Jr67m7tEd3MwfdZF3fiJtY0fSq4WsfIy9zsWNdl10tmatcCdYrUK4/s1600-h/shadows+of+the+past.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 183px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0NgxwpB2xtDApvNgkqcG-d26YObXH4GgRx5nyZplPkrbqjrxwJxCR0RkVelLSlycwQzB1naA5LkcARkc_Be991Jr67m7tEd3MwfdZF3fiJtY0fSq4WsfIy9zsWNdl10tmatcCdYrUK4/s200/shadows+of+the+past.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249094056951554866" border="0" /></a>ummer in a funk. Trying to pick up the pieces of my life was not something I looked forward to each afternoon getting out of bed, so sometimes I just stayed there. Going out on the town every night lost it's luster all too quickly and I was left wallowing with the reality of things in an empty home. My belongings have remained in boxes far too long as if moving them in was synonymous with finalizing the goodbye to the way things use to be.<br /><br />I was so contented to be able to mend my friendship with Tim. It was so revivifying to be in his company and I was elated to be able to do all the things we used to love bonding over. There is something to say for the comfort of someone who knows you in and out, someone who can assess your entire state of being with a simple glance.<br /><br />This sense of fulfillment quickly vanished as I watched him driving away in the Aspen with the powder blue strip glowing in the sun. I followed him, tears streaming down my face. He was really leaving. I wanted so badly to follow him until he stopped at his destination, but we both knew that I couldn't . Passing him, I watched in the rear view until he blurred into the distance.<br /><br />I frequently slip into a state of panic, and forget how to breathe when I realize how different my life is than it was just a few short months ago. You know the old saying, if you love someone you have to let them go, well I am not so convinced. I am so terrified that I have lost something that meant so much to me, and I will never procure anything like it again. I want to be able to ride my bike around with him, I want to go out to Sauvie Island and make jam, make green curry, and foolishly try to keep up with him on a run. I want to go to the beach and wander around aimlessly downtown. I want to try on ridiculous outfits and model them around the store to the great amusement of sales personnel. I have been so desolate with the understanding that these things have left my life for the next two years, and quite possibly eternity. It seems unbearable sometimes, but that is life.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc98f-gQfU5t2z41d0J7VhAfgQ6QwSdOgjcgx_pYjI8hvyt1I6f5PVmZJYF0JU4EtEvLWn3TFVV_2c0o67VX7Wx_k9B-QVzLbRLYpcwUBa1goLoanYC4Li9_aDf28A-l_fET-r01C3cms/s1600-h/jam+heart.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 151px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc98f-gQfU5t2z41d0J7VhAfgQ6QwSdOgjcgx_pYjI8hvyt1I6f5PVmZJYF0JU4EtEvLWn3TFVV_2c0o67VX7Wx_k9B-QVzLbRLYpcwUBa1goLoanYC4Li9_aDf28A-l_fET-r01C3cms/s200/jam+heart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249093847546242258" border="0" /></a><br />It seems so easy to be consumed by sorrow, become lost in it forever, and lose the ability to appreciate life in all it's glory, or appreciate it at all. I feel like I have had a black balloon tied to my wrist, casting a shadow on everything that lays on the path before me. It has taken me all too long to realize it's presence, and even longer for me to be willing to disband with the aberrant sense of security it has consigned.<br /><br />Today marked my valediction to it's persistent doom as I cut the string and watched it float away, susceptible to whatever weather it encounters. A subtle smile pulls at the muscles in my cheeks knowing I no longer bare it's ball and chain. Life is, after all, too short not to embrace the next adventure, tackle the next obstacle, experience the unknown, or even to bring yourself back from the devastation of the next heartache.Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-79622587587242954952008-06-30T16:54:00.000-07:002008-06-30T17:02:03.517-07:00Moving F***ing sucks!Just a little vent... I hate moving more than any other activity I can think of. Especially when you do it by yourself sorting through things you bought with someone who is no longer around. Separating yourself from the past four years of your life truly blows. But it had to be done, and thankfully it is over.<br /><br />Thank god for the one friend who came through. Meghan, you are a life-saver. Thanks to B also for helping me keep my sanity within reach this week. Love ya both!<br /><br />On to unpack the new place and a fresh start...Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-1321895440471082662008-05-27T18:05:00.000-07:002008-05-27T19:33:33.712-07:00Friend or FoeI found the last tangible piece of my childhood torn to shreds this morning. My long-time comfort laying dismantled at my feet with no hope of reconstruction. My eyes augmenting in disbelief, my breath absconding, my hands trembling, tears welling, I collapsed to the floor.<br /><br />These moments of utter loss have been frequenting my seemingly affected existence lately. Yet, this symbolically tops them all. I have been doing a commendable job disarming panic attacks with a nonchalant air and convincingly carefree smile. Lassitude surrounding the indirection of my life. I can pull off this guise because all those who really know me, know that change is no friend of mine, are thousands of miles away.<br /><br />But this week, my uncanny abilities to brush off overwhelming feelings are weakening. I avoid moments alone that aren't packed full of purposeful activity. The place bereft of a comforting and familiar presence is now a medley of strangers' scents.<br /><br />Eyes perfectly lined, hair punctiliously placed. Fitted in tight jeans and peep-toe pumps. Layers shedding on a diet of greyhounds through neon cocktail straws. Playing into the games, but following through with little. Those quiet nights at home are equating to equivocal memories. This poison comes instruction-free and regularly costs me nothing.<br /><br />I've cried over this before, the hurt, the anger. But for the first time I'm truly sad over it all. No anger, no blame, no dwelling and analyzing, no wishing for it to go back to the way it once was- just sad over the demise of the love we once knew.Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-88611449905977080772008-04-25T08:11:00.000-07:002008-04-25T09:20:15.468-07:00InsomniaThe woes of working 12 (really 13 or 14) hour night shifts are far too many to fully divulge here, but I would at least like to make one major complaint: insomnia. I have slept for seven hours in the past three days, only 2 of them being consecutive hours, and all were obtained between 10am and 7pm. In case you haven't already come to this conclusion, I am turning into a vampire, or at least have severely impaired functioning. My poor sleep habbits are partly due to going through such huge life changes, and partly because I am hormonal, and stressed, etc. But I would like to place most of the blame on night-shift. I cannot stay a prisoner to a dysfunctional schedule for much longer. My mother believes that there is a strong correlation between me working nights and the Iraq war. When I mentioned this to my manager, she laughed for a moment, then paused with a sobering frown and stated "If I thought that there was even a minuscule chance that Bush and Cheney would shrivel up in a tiny ball and evaporate, I would place you on day shift before you could blink your eye." In other words, I will not be making the switch to day shift at my current place of work. Therefore, I may have to look elsewhere.<br /><br />For those of you who have not heard, my fiance Tim and I are parting ways. It sucks. It sucks real bad sometimes. But, this is life. He is going to be attending Emory for his MPH, which is his dream come true. He will have a whole new world to explore, and I'm sure his discoveries and adventures will leave him nothing short of elated. At least that is how I am envisioning the whole situation. He may even be able to land his fantasy job of being a professional peach taste tester- Georgia is, after all, the peach state.<br /><br />So that leaves me with what I'm going to do now. The answer is: I really have no idea. I may be moving to Colorado, or I might become a traveling nurse and go to someplace warm with a beach (since Abe's first beach trip was revolutionary). Maybe Portugal or St. Johns or something. I don't know. But I have decided to embrace the mystery.<br /><br />I have really pulled myself out of my funk. It may very well be lurking around the corner waiting to pounce when I least expect it, but bring it on. I even retired my sweats for a night out on the town (thank you Crystal). We had one hell of a night at work on Tuesday, easily one of the worst nights ever, so plans for mimosa breakfast turned into vodka breakfast. We slept for a couple hours and then got dolled-up to go to some fancy pharmaceutical dinner at Portland City Grill. Turns out we could not manage to get ready in time, so went to Masu Sushi for dinner instead. It was so delish! We sat at the bar and were chatted up by the adorable sushi chefs fitted in their hachimakis. Then ended up spending the remainder of the evening bar-hopping SE Portland in their company. It was very therapeutic for me to get out of the house and make some new friends. This girl is going to have to trade out her slippers for her leopard pumps a little more often! Have a happy weekend!Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-23034573664697649812008-04-06T04:17:00.000-07:002008-10-12T23:47:55.520-07:00Doom, I mean Spring is upon us...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07zWZajuH2L-sB66V7DwtT3hG53Fg5BgopTi11XAszhEOSxn62BZKzY7PRqNgthjjoDi_bWhOWqPbhyphenhyphenrJhinGgNaZy51L49ynojaK_MylIOJyfVpNd5du2Nzc55gIZLgvz-MVgiajdYA/s1600-h/mm.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07zWZajuH2L-sB66V7DwtT3hG53Fg5BgopTi11XAszhEOSxn62BZKzY7PRqNgthjjoDi_bWhOWqPbhyphenhyphenrJhinGgNaZy51L49ynojaK_MylIOJyfVpNd5du2Nzc55gIZLgvz-MVgiajdYA/s200/mm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256526481223880450" border="0" /></a>Well, the 2008 SI swim edition is in my possession, so it is officially spring time, though the weather has not been particularly cooperative in welcoming all that spring has to offer. It has been a while, a long while since my last blog. I have a lot of catching up to do I suppo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdy_QsXlDn8j6l5hQsERIZIRF4hDlfH4Wy9vqtBQHwcQLettgUMdJ9U7bC0er0iKioyZdkV4IE0YF25CPISnGe6SbpIzmcvAWC6zEGMe1qG8VFWn2rBA_KOQM3EdliCZQLt_xWFJ9-Gzg/s1600-h/green+curry.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdy_QsXlDn8j6l5hQsERIZIRF4hDlfH4Wy9vqtBQHwcQLettgUMdJ9U7bC0er0iKioyZdkV4IE0YF25CPISnGe6SbpIzmcvAWC6zEGMe1qG8VFWn2rBA_KOQM3EdliCZQLt_xWFJ9-Gzg/s200/green+curry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187966421736560674" border="0" /></a>se. Here is my speed rendition at an update on life:<br /><br />Tim came back from a month in SE Asia, with thousands of beautiful photos. I was so happy to have him home again. It sure was getting lonely around here. I have since been fortunate to sample all of the cooking skills and recipes he learned while in Thailand. He is a master at curry, the green is my favorite.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoSShVzgTmQKUDHuZQqs8FPHLswsnWUSQ6S91KPYvrSXJI3xAoXYkN5YevbUQjDndlTm-6kW2C-7KI3w6y_EfuH0Uuu3PukTXf1y_Q73hsJBrk4rAwysruJ5NEMR5iRdRqPM8c5nHYNaQ/s1600-h/me+and+mom.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoSShVzgTmQKUDHuZQqs8FPHLswsnWUSQ6S91KPYvrSXJI3xAoXYkN5YevbUQjDndlTm-6kW2C-7KI3w6y_EfuH0Uuu3PukTXf1y_Q73hsJBrk4rAwysruJ5NEMR5iRdRqPM8c5nHYNaQ/s200/me+and+mom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186114518225693298" border="0" /></a>My mom came to visit last month for a few days, it was so great to see her! We went several mini adventures in PDX including the Tao of Tea, Pambiche, the Japanese Gardens, Laurelhurst, the general Belmont area, and of course Portland Nursery. But mostly we just sat around huddled under blankets sipping tea or Vietnamese coffee, and enjoyed the company due to the nasty cold weather.<br /><br /><br />Tim and I did plant therapy with all the new and exciting options at Portland Nu<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1g1SickKmqEw6TbKXKr3vbdyxz_zKD0hTjjyBrp-UdG5ONZri9Y8JjLzgc81-7sTq-2kiVQegE3bLrphyphenhyphenll8LuYHALDNpgcy5RWiKcpaH88KKgcOEmBg8dQebZnRx0YwZRTftY9IZXw/s1600-h/nursery+ball.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1g1SickKmqEw6TbKXKr3vbdyxz_zKD0hTjjyBrp-UdG5ONZri9Y8JjLzgc81-7sTq-2kiVQegE3bLrphyphenhyphenll8LuYHALDNpgcy5RWiKcpaH88KKgcOEmBg8dQebZnRx0YwZRTftY9IZXw/s200/nursery+ball.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186114870413011586" border="0" /></a>rsery (our favorite place to spend our free afternoons). We have a dwarf nectarine, poppies, window boxes as well as an attempted kitchen herb garden that hangs over the sink.<br /><br />Work has been one crazy night after the other, but we have been staying very busy until last week- which I am very greatful for. I have come a long way in my profession in the past 6 months. I even took my first balloon pump! This probably means nothing to you, but just take my word that it is exciting. They have also asked me to do relief charge, which is so so scary! Flattering and all, but no thanks.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDDfHjr04ifnQNAzZuWeCNvNL76T9kTFRZ13zJNuBejMkXD6mqEVI8lKvb31lbI7FBOjwyXyGqEJ2eJQXotwcBjvLAMa5sN05qOM8kU6n5X0Zz8qSAChyphenhyphenGsmuMIDfP0LYS3yu1y5aQl0/s1600-h/console.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDDfHjr04ifnQNAzZuWeCNvNL76T9kTFRZ13zJNuBejMkXD6mqEVI8lKvb31lbI7FBOjwyXyGqEJ2eJQXotwcBjvLAMa5sN05qOM8kU6n5X0Zz8qSAChyphenhyphenGsmuMIDfP0LYS3yu1y5aQl0/s200/console.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186116472435813010" border="0" /></a>A couple years ago, Tim got this old TV console and record player. The TV didn't work, so he gutted it, refinished it, and put in a fish tank in place of the TV at my request. Ever since, it has been our aquatic canvas. We have gone through many remodels with plants when it begins to look uninspired, and unfortunately many fish have come and gone (gone down the toilet burial that is). One fish, if you can even call him a fish, that has held through from day one is Nessie. He was our prehistoric looking eel with snake like scales fitted with dinosaur spikes. We named him The Loch Ness Monster, or Nessie for short. He was a survivor. Even when we moved the tank from the condo to the new house, and had to put each fish in a make-shift travel tank (aka various vases half filled with water), he made the bumpy journey with no problem. He was the only living fish on arrival. A few weeks ago on a dreary night, Tim and I were talking about needing to liven up the tank, and what the options were. We went to bed undecided. The next morning I walked out of our bedroom and immediately noticed something on the floor. It was big, it was black, it appeared to be slimy... basically not something you would voluntarily pick up. I very hesitantly walked over to get a closer look. It was Nessie. Apparently he decided it was time to evolve. No such luck, he was dead. I have no idea how he got out. There is only one small hole that he could have squirmed through, and even then he would have had to crawl or slither over the steep slope of the tank light and carefully maneuver his way out through the front side of the record player avoiding the many cracks, nooks, and crannies on his way out. Anyhow, he did it. Not only did he get out, but he managed to end up several feet from the tank. In case this did not make me uneasy, there was more to come. I put on my blue rubber gloves to transport him to the flushing burial grounds, bent down and picked him up in my fingers. Then c<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJ-czOS6Fvo9OzarqGbf-pIsP_jEKQ_iphAJ8zA0sKkT7IpXOhjIpIYTjhRxMUMVVHbRupu9pFpAD3ofV_CYKKRuTxkt_x9IzttqTzRHvJ9WeWZ3HTktD5XPYHZpUpDb8C82DSslRjlo/s1600-h/discus.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJ-czOS6Fvo9OzarqGbf-pIsP_jEKQ_iphAJ8zA0sKkT7IpXOhjIpIYTjhRxMUMVVHbRupu9pFpAD3ofV_CYKKRuTxkt_x9IzttqTzRHvJ9WeWZ3HTktD5XPYHZpUpDb8C82DSslRjlo/s200/discus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186113646347332194" border="0" /></a>ame the blood curdling scream... Nessie was not completely dead, he was writhing, thrashing, turning his head and lunging toward me. It was awful. I am severely traumatized. He always scared me a little, but I never envisioned my own private version of Jurassic Park to materialize in my living room. Needless to say we got some new fish, and none of them resemble anything close to a prehistoric beast. My favorite, our beautiful discus, is pictured above.<br /><br />Ever since experiencing the tragedy of the Loch Ness monster, things have just been going down hill. I am not sure when, exactly, everything went wrong. What I can say, is that this house is full of sadness, tears, and change. I know that change usually makes us stronger, that it comes about for a reason. I sure don't feel strong, don't currently feel that change is a welcomed friend.<br />Betrayal is a funny thing, not funny haha. It seems that you cannot truly betray someone else unless said someone has put quite an investment in you- whether it be time, emotions, love, money, trust- or a combination of such. When you betray yourself, it gets much more complicated. How is it possible to love someone so incredibly much, and things begin to crumble anyway? How can you put so much effort into making everything work out, but know in your heart of hearts it will not be a beautiful ending? How is it that you can live with someone for so long and invest so much, but not be the one who intervenes in their saddest struggle? <noscript> </noscript> <!-- END Burst Network CODE -->Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-45238495716451345472007-12-15T13:34:00.000-08:002007-12-15T14:31:40.201-08:00Going postal at the lovely post-officeOh my goodness, the holidays are totally here, and I am not quite prepared- mentally. For example, I had to go to the post office yesterday, an activity that is completely overwhelming and anxiety provoking enough as is: the never moving line; the packaging options and rules; the robots who work there who are not the least bit interested in smiling or making anything easy; making sure there is enough bubble wrap to secure the precious items I'm mailing; panicking about whether everything is going to get to it's destination on the right day or not... the list really could go on and on, but I might work myself into a panic attack if I continue. So, knowing that I either need a valium or a shot of vodka prior to arriving at the hell that is the post office should make me depart prepared, but I never am.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0VWB63K1RJ4jKZzLuLmK3t5GXfn9L-MbsAiSTkyhNXY3owcDqm_DG5l33asRU6fPj1phE2LBAd6MrL8oRjcCIJnQ1xFpsDbc5VvBlRM4-1JIgEHAdQ3ZeNqSSCmkijPEPas39V1SSNDo/s1600-h/P1030827.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0VWB63K1RJ4jKZzLuLmK3t5GXfn9L-MbsAiSTkyhNXY3owcDqm_DG5l33asRU6fPj1phE2LBAd6MrL8oRjcCIJnQ1xFpsDbc5VvBlRM4-1JIgEHAdQ3ZeNqSSCmkijPEPas39V1SSNDo/s320/P1030827.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144330700849338770" border="0" /></a><br /> I had to mail 20 jars of our homemade jam to my mom to distribute as "happy holiday" gifts to her coworkers and the like. I put them all in my bag, recounting three times before I left, had all 20 tags to place on the jars, my payment options, and my sanity. I even had my dad's, brother's and mom's birthday cards to include in the loot. I was totally prepared.<br /> I am not quite sure when I lost the sanity I had been sure to pack for the trip. It may have been the second I walked in the door seeing an endless line and hearing the frustrated remarks crazed line participants were muttering not so quietly. It may have been when I was unable to obtain the special packaging tape you have to use for priority mail. It may have been when I finally got my package together (with stickers I found mind you, not packaging tape) and was standing in line to be addressed by another crazed citizen who yelled "You have got to be f***ing kidding me, what is everyone doing here?! This is absurd!" But it was most likely when I had stood in line for an hour (with another half our to go), arms painfully shaking, 20 jars of jam slowly causing my biceps to fail. I refused to put the package on the floor for fear that when picking it up, the sticker holding the bottom tabs together would loose it's strength and 20 jars of jam would go crashing onto the floor.<br /> There were two guys behind me, and two in front of me. The two behind me taunting me about how heavy my package looked, asking if I was going to drop it. Nice. The saint in front of me turned around, obviously not being able to stand it anymore. "Hey, can I just hold that for a while?" Those who know me, know that it would take some serious coaxing to get me to let go of my box. Turns out it didn't take that much. I let him hold it for a while.<br /> Needless to say, I did not leave with my sanity, but I did leave with the tags and birthday cards I was supposed to mail. My poor dad, this is the second time I forgot to include his card in a package I was sending back in October. I just got so frazzled by the time I got to the window, I could barely remember my name or address. Thankfully these things can go through the regular mail picked up by the mailman at my own safe home.<br /> If it weren't for the nice guy in front of me, I quite likely would have been committed yesterday. He was a tall, built man in his 20s wearing a white beanie and a north face fleece. Brown eyes. I think his name was Adam. He didn't want me to buy him lunch- I suppose if I were him I most certainly would not go to lunch with a stranger who looked on the brink of lunacy either. If you see this kind soul, kiss him, tell him he's wonderful, do him a favor, throw money at him- he deserves it. And for God-sakes: avoid the post office at all costs, and if you absolutely have to go, remember there is safety in numbers!Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-11543974356947464832007-11-30T15:20:00.000-08:002007-12-01T21:29:11.220-08:00Thursday Night Life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXnl-9ixA6pnSv_6H3JhVA7HXQz5_xy9edvU752D-2DoGQDKC62S9J1Naj1J02HBQUegavHeHSrccvFWVplPVnKoMk-EM1SzioCZvcweeIMZ-bZKS1Ln_It_u5V4jLN_iEqFcuvcDuvE/s1600-r/P1030928.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5yNOB424robOUKQNjez7fXBpiQrdvJlpUmLnls6eFfYzCA8w9yUxq_i8KPKErga68bpN95R2b3sq09b4sfaPuvd3z8BYSzuZxxdhqWxA8ukfi7ZYcSGx7CzZKG6dCnOD8L-QWWxalDI/s200/P1030928.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138866397943304882" border="0" /></a>For most people, Thursday is a sneak-peak of the weekend to come, the appetizer for Friday night craziness, partying, or even laying low with no obligation to get up or prepare anything for work or school. For me, Thursday night is where it's at- the night full of fun and glory. Tim and I relish in watching the office, usually with our dear friend Nate. We usually come up with some sort of imbibe concoction to quench the thirst, and usually find some fine dining to fill our anticipation for what Micheal or Dwight may delight us with at 2100 sharp. Sometimes, we even have a theme to the night, such as biore strip night. I guess you could say we are all obsessed. But, who really cares? It is always a great time. So thanks Nate, Tim, and surprise guest (who I really like and you will be hearing more about at a later date) for another great Thursday night.Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-68776729048568557552007-11-27T01:41:00.000-08:002007-11-28T12:38:54.643-08:00One year older, and thankful...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWQf-1DdKpwnSh9eV6w_i5iZGV4Lk1xfzzuwUbgAlgpOu0qvpHzIaBUGJXx3nveT_iR8TBwtjkieN8Upv-ng6Ej-M_oDbiQYs1Ugm2Run3qeVp2ZdQyU2OgTF9aIpy_cPTO9EPBiHvDM/s1600-h/P1040036.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWQf-1DdKpwnSh9eV6w_i5iZGV4Lk1xfzzuwUbgAlgpOu0qvpHzIaBUGJXx3nveT_iR8TBwtjkieN8Upv-ng6Ej-M_oDbiQYs1Ugm2Run3qeVp2ZdQyU2OgTF9aIpy_cPTO9EPBiHvDM/s200/P1040036.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137993044920132050" border="0" /></a>My 24th birthday officially ended one hour and 43 minutes ago, but we all know the celebrating will last at least a week with some sporadic gifts, cards, and celebrations happening at least a month from now. That's just how it is. I found myself sniffling and aching late Saturday night. This nasty cold has survived all the sleep, emergen-c, hot tea, and even Tim's care one can imagine- and is still going strong. Despite this ailment, I had a pretty great birthday.<br />Tim brought me homemade hot chocolate crafted with Belgian chocolate bars and soy milk- delish!- while I lingered in the warmth of our bed. Then, just as I was getting out of bed, the fed-ex man showed up with some beautiful variated Peruvian Lilies sent with love from my dad. I assumed the duty of a flaneur most of the morning with Tim and Abe by my side. We went to Target and craft stores to get supplies for gifts and tag making, and anyone who has been into one of these stores with me knows I have to have a limited amount of money or I'd take one of everything available. I just love the endless possibilities of cardstock, embossing powder, ribbon, colors, and textures that line each and every isle. After exhausting the craft store isles or <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMd6461FQU9ogaed_DNiJGgnAyG-Mzh5ZmQ5z0XEa6QfSwbq2NW6hggIxlTuqaE2wIz18Zpkbvcyo6lFj-4LHYCM4VmKar-fIjc_6FFvgon8UuBV1etD8LFjLIarvBToNNFQ8VQhvfgRg/s1600-h/get-attachment-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMd6461FQU9ogaed_DNiJGgnAyG-Mzh5ZmQ5z0XEa6QfSwbq2NW6hggIxlTuqaE2wIz18Zpkbvcyo6lFj-4LHYCM4VmKar-fIjc_6FFvgon8UuBV1etD8LFjLIarvBToNNFQ8VQhvfgRg/s200/get-attachment-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137837257866371490" border="0" /></a>at least successfully comporting myself with a degree of restraint, we had worked up an appetite and decided to try out Zien Hong, recommended by pals <a href="http://blog.littleredbikecafe.com">E and Ali</a>. I am so ecstatic to report I have finally found a place that serves vermicelli bowls and fish sauce (this may sound disgusting, but it actually tastes nothing like fish). Need<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv4Ruhnc14vDIRj9zYw5r-tIBAg9XwKtaD53PdYhMjUNwcFseg8tw5T67rDJ3okkjQF1fHYV1ihyaKIUBKEzMi40j3LiOfho0F7SXFxWBN4q6GOMDmDbit0FlxR6m5w0HcHkmlsyT8k4k/s1600-h/get-attachment-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 131px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv4Ruhnc14vDIRj9zYw5r-tIBAg9XwKtaD53PdYhMjUNwcFseg8tw5T67rDJ3okkjQF1fHYV1ihyaKIUBKEzMi40j3LiOfho0F7SXFxWBN4q6GOMDmDbit0FlxR6m5w0HcHkmlsyT8k4k/s200/get-attachment-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137838189874274738" border="0" /></a>less to say it was a lovely dining experience with superb service and scrumptious food. They even have young coconut juice served in a coconut shell- who could possibly ask for more?<br /><br />On a completely different note, thanksgiving was not so shabby either. We went down to Salem, which I was admittedly apprehensive about. It was sad to be away from my family, but it was a good time with the help of some<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3ULZB8I3q2OD7TmLuCa3Pv56wBtKrNH9GvO8_4EGR-G9goX4i1Z1m_SwmJNWSuE2-LCcd8d93SOMqMK-lwFzkZb-wgrV8K4JC-uqJiG8d4jwSMMpR-YLOorQcKufaavRfjSDqvy1ro4/s1600-h/P1040032.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-3ULZB8I3q2OD7TmLuCa3Pv56wBtKrNH9GvO8_4EGR-G9goX4i1Z1m_SwmJNWSuE2-LCcd8d93SOMqMK-lwFzkZb-wgrV8K4JC-uqJiG8d4jwSMMpR-YLOorQcKufaavRfjSDqvy1ro4/s200/P1040032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137992791517061570" border="0" /></a> Riesling and a game of Apples to Apples. Which brings me to list a few of the things I am thankful for, in no particular order:<br />*Tim<br />*My Family<br />*Abe<br />*Securing a difficult but sometimes rewarding job<br />*Diane, Meghan, and Bay for helping me get through the rough nights at work<br />*People who are dedicated in researching and advancing medicine and understanding the holistic being of our species- special mention to Medtronic's <span style="font-style: italic;">Real Time</span> monitor, which I have yet to acquire<br />*Eugene Langdon-inventor of Splenda<br />*Having the power of choice, and the health of mind to use it...<br />Quite honestly this list could go on and on, but for the sake of time (mine and yours) we will keep it short. Hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving and the upcoming holidays are splendid!Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-38310670214472232042007-11-13T13:44:00.000-08:002007-11-25T16:29:53.898-08:00Marmalade is on his death bedOur bright orange cichlid, marmalade, is near dead this afternoon. His fellow habitants of our TV console fish tank are all hiding in the shadows of the plants, anticipating indulgence in carnivorous delight. It is a sickening thought, as Marmalade was the bright entertainment that swam across the screen, the social one. Poor little guy. I hope he passes into the afterlife peacefully and has a plethora of brightly colored dames awaiting his arrival. So long Marmie, we will miss you dearly.<br /> Alright then, onto a more pollyannaish subject. I have cured a portion of my homesickness! I returned late last night from Bozeman, MT where I was visiting my brother Chris at college. He seems to ha<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7mEkM1RnFTCIGxydPmCfj6gqs9-jwLQf94LmLjjKr4HIqcV_h2476v9G8MCGVvq7oAfPqiRJjRkTPHW3oioI8wrumrZG3UKpHbah-k8Xko07hL5_qdgcXfXuA5RbYpd0kdDllcCJdX20/s1600-h/get-attachment.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7mEkM1RnFTCIGxydPmCfj6gqs9-jwLQf94LmLjjKr4HIqcV_h2476v9G8MCGVvq7oAfPqiRJjRkTPHW3oioI8wrumrZG3UKpHbah-k8Xko07hL5_qdgcXfXuA5RbYpd0kdDllcCJdX20/s200/get-attachment.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136938820008958082" border="0" /></a>ve picked the perfect location for himself. He dwells on the 9th floor of Roskie Hall- some of you may be familiar with their claim to fame in High Times Magazine. I stepped out of the elevator, the aroma of Ganja floating freely in the air. I walked down the hall to my brothers pod and was greeted by many friendly happy faces. There is no drama here, just good times. There are homemade informational posters covering the walls (each one considered a punishment for having been caught doing something against the rules). Some examples: why marijuana is bad for you, why slip and slides made out of garbage bags that line the hallways in the dorm is dangerous, etc.<br />Chris's dorm room window frames a horse pasture and barn nestled below the mountains. He is 15 minutes from the mountain and snowboarding, and he is 15 minutes from the river to go fly fishing, camping or hiking. Main street hosts blocks of independent shops, restaurants, coffee shops, and a friendly food co-op. It was a great place to visit, and seems like a fabulous place to live. Everyone was friendly and helpful and Chris's content was emanating from his pores. There was nothing unpleasant about my three day adventure and I am so thankful to have had the opportunity to go see my brother and can't wait until our next family rendezvous.Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-57920500439353978912007-11-08T10:52:00.000-08:002007-11-28T12:47:33.640-08:00Homesickness<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_ctYa621pqZG-MWisEXchA3cdVWw_OBM2z68hln2gRwAboAl8ltxgENY2QHzlXxF3UDiDM0uxjX2hUy5OFOQIN1nxkJUfVxPFRw6pjh_BWpfLPOS2Qp2ucMF0XaKc11PgC521r59GaA/s1600-h/P1030986.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_ctYa621pqZG-MWisEXchA3cdVWw_OBM2z68hln2gRwAboAl8ltxgENY2QHzlXxF3UDiDM0uxjX2hUy5OFOQIN1nxkJUfVxPFRw6pjh_BWpfLPOS2Qp2ucMF0XaKc11PgC521r59GaA/s200/P1030986.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137995617605542386" border="0" /></a>Well, Halloween was a bust. I ended up with the same costume as last year, and decided Abe and I should share since he was feeling left out. Alas, together we made one grand bumble bee. He wore the antennas and wings and I wore the striped leotard with a yellow tutu. We still have a huge orange bucket of candy for all the kids who didn't show up. It is sitting in the laundry room in hopes that I will be less tempted to eat it, but I still find myself sneaking a piece all too often. I always wonder what drives me to even wander in the direction of the giant orange tub of doom- none of the contents are good for me and I don't even really like any of it anyway, what a waste of empty calories.<br />Halloween has always been the official welcoming of fall, which happens to be my favorite season. This has so far been the best fall weather in Portland since moving here five years ago. Today is gorgeous. The sun is out. The leaves are swaying in the crisp air, dancing on their descent to the damp ground. The fabulous flavors of fall are available everywhere- pumpkin, cinnamon, nutmeg, cranberry and more tempt consumers at every corner. Everyone is preparing for the looming holiday season which begins in only 14 days. That is right, Thanksgiving is 2 weeks from today, then you will blink your eyes and Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and New Years celebrations will be in full effect.<br />Thanksgiving used to be one of the biggest celebrations at our house, then I moved away to college and everything seemed to change. Thanksgiving is all about family for me, and I am <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp8GFRW6pOz0GoI6KmO26TRQEBGKxph-fZksBTTrGU4JiK8JhPH9w-_2nle8dd1lNBVjS0voe9Rc1PPjK-6ycZxszhYxTz_bopjkLdqRs6O1iXal4T4vx1MSH67SEGLlobXcElsEABHOk/s1600-h/P1020528.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp8GFRW6pOz0GoI6KmO26TRQEBGKxph-fZksBTTrGU4JiK8JhPH9w-_2nle8dd1lNBVjS0voe9Rc1PPjK-6ycZxszhYxTz_bopjkLdqRs6O1iXal4T4vx1MSH67SEGLlobXcElsEABHOk/s200/P1020528.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137995226763518434" border="0" /></a>never able to share it with them anymore. I have been ever so homesick lately. I miss my family more and more the closer the holidays get. I don't necessarily miss home in the sense of my hometown or even Colorado so much. It's my brother Chris's giggle echoing around the corner signaling trouble is on it's way. It's my mom's face full of delight when we are all together again laughing around the dinner table. It's my dad's hand on my shoulder as we grill dinner up on the barbie, beer in hand. It's my brother Tom's look of disdain as my cat jumps in his lap and the very same growl I let out from time to time escapes out the corners of his mouth. I am so lucky to have them. They say you can't choose your family, but I sure would have hand picked mine if given the opportunity- and that is not something very many people can say.Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8470586724759956493.post-54184855720673502482007-10-31T10:17:00.000-07:002007-10-31T11:10:06.685-07:00Sparkle and FadeWell, I finally give in. I'm starting a blog, who knows if anyone will ever find it, but that is besides the point. I'm starting it so I can accurately and honestly journal my life. I suppose people's perceptions are their reality, so accuracy may be a bit quixotic, but honesty is feasible.<br /> Also, this may give me a chance to use the vocabulary words I am learning thanks to Dictionary.com's "word of the day" emails. I have tried them out on my ventilated patients, but they just don't validate my efforts to be more intellectually inclined.<br /> Admittedly, I also need another ongoing project to occupy my wandering mind and bored soul since Tim is never home when I am awake and Abe is not interested (or not allowed without some phony guide dog vest) to do a great number of things I may want to do. And that is part of the reason I got a dog anyway- so I had someone to spend my time with.<br /> The whole concept of loneliness use to be foreign to me until recently. I use to be so fiercely independent- I am not quite sure when another's company became a necessity for me to leave the house, sad.<br /> On that note, I am going to go by myself to Llyod Center for a much needed shopping trip- after all, it is Halloween and I am without costume. But stay posted for Halloween pics and further blogs... I'm sure my ambition to be independent will sparkle and fade and I will be home alone again, roaming the blog-o-sphere.Lindsey Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16782731533379742741noreply@blogger.com3