tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45653505940797772362024-02-20T16:35:24.027-08:00UntamedKaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-6195037786700227512014-02-24T17:53:00.002-08:002014-02-24T17:53:56.745-08:00Coming To the Table<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDBdhp8XlzzNh_xYVQgDBvsGnTFnqIkjxsuDSnOApjiab06B6Q9eEzJhrsgXlojXlv4oHzRZuzGJwntkaCjT_xyBuBc-qZsFvvXb1-c02iCEAgau6ViMrOMAYwXSKNfu5bpvI245lMm7FW/s1600/flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDBdhp8XlzzNh_xYVQgDBvsGnTFnqIkjxsuDSnOApjiab06B6Q9eEzJhrsgXlojXlv4oHzRZuzGJwntkaCjT_xyBuBc-qZsFvvXb1-c02iCEAgau6ViMrOMAYwXSKNfu5bpvI245lMm7FW/s1600/flower.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I read something the other day about how your 20’s are a
time of figuring out who you are as a person and what you believe in. As a worker, as a <b>lover</b>, as a family member
and friend. While I was reading, I
started reflecting on my own journey of self-discovery. I realized that deep down, I know who I
am. The version of myself that I present
to my husband and my closest friends is the version that’s not always pretty
but is always <u>faithful</u> to its identity. My
true problem lies in my ability to trust the flawed and meager aspects of that
person.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Don’t we all long to be beautiful? To be successful? To be interesting? I am so guilty of <i>constantly</i> playing the
comparison game. I begin a conversation
and immediately commence evaluating how her shoes are cuter than mine, how he
is more cultured than I am, how they can afford to eat out more and experience
that aspect of what Portland has to offer, even (humbling to admit) how his
faith seems deeper and more authentic than my own. So I begin to <b>adjust</b> that version of myself
throughout the conversation. I bend and alter until I feel like I’m on equal footing but have lost sight of that
person I know deep down is better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hear me on this: I do <u>not</u> say better as in I really DO have
cuter shoes and deeper faith, but rather better as in more authentic. Vulnerable.
Honest. <i>Better than the
comparisons and the judgments and the fear.</i>
Better than laughing at a movie quote I don’t recognize because I’m too
afraid to admit I don’t get the reference.
How hard could it be to just admit “I don’t know much about music, but
I’m pretty into books”? It’s not better
or worse, it’s different, and thank God for those differences in this world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I stopped writing on my blog because I lost sight of the
deeper convictions among all the clutter.
I was consumed with the amount of blogs out there, the <b>narcissism sword</b>
pointed at my generation, and the feeling that I just didn't have anything new
to say. I came back because of the small
voice telling me I may not be more interesting or have new things to say, but I
will always say it <u>differently</u>. There is
no one in the world who thinks exactly like me and believes all the same things
I believe. The more I dwell on this
truth, the more I am convinced it is true.
There will always be someone writing more passionately, more
convincingly or just plain better. But
if I learn to present myself as is -->flaws and all, I believe there is
something <b>beautiful</b> and <i>wild</i>, something a little…well, untamed about it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It’s the new way that I feel God is challenging me in this
season. To believe that I have something
to bring to the table, to ANY table, just because I am me and no one else can
say that. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://data2.whicdn.com/images/102305243/large.jpg">Photo Source</a></span></div>
Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-59084693576426809772014-01-12T21:16:00.001-08:002014-01-12T21:17:37.564-08:00Welcome 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://data3.whicdn.com/images/95699368/large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://data3.whicdn.com/images/95699368/large.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">While I was with my family for the holidays, they urged me to write again. And it sounded delicious and daring, so here I am.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There are two kinds of people who celebrate a New Year. Those who make resolutions and those who hate those people and make fun of them behind their backs. For me, a new year is <u>almost</u> as good as Christmas. There's something about it that is so FULL of hope and expectation and unanswered questions in the most beautiful way. I believe in intentionality, in setting goals that are attainable and measurable in an effort to force yourself off of the couch (or computer, <b>oopsies</b>) and take a step in a good direction. Nothing more, nothing less.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I don't call them resolutions, but I do set goals for a new year. It's an exciting process to reflect and choose the things I think will stretch me and make me uncomfortable and push me toward something better that I might have otherwise missed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So here are my goals for 2014:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1. Find a Bible reading plan and follow it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2. Read at least one non-fiction book per month.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">3. Run two half marathons.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>4. Pay off all debt!! (11 loans in total left)</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">5. Make an exercise plan for each month with hubs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">6. Have one night per week with no TV.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">7. Read 2 books together with the boy (about anything).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">8. Continue our monthly budget meetings.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">9. "Complete" our apartment one room at a time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">10. Write a blog post at least once per month. <i>Checkmark please and thank you!?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">11. Give away at least 10% plus $20 per month to church/charities. Re-start our "needs fund" for when we hear of needs we might be able to help meet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">12. Have one couple/friend over per month.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">13. Create plan for keeping our home clean.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">14. There is a 14th, but some things can stay private. ;)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I know it may not sound exciting, but it's filled with so much promise for me. It fills me with hope and anticipation of what this year could bring. I'm ready.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://data3.whicdn.com/images/95699368/large.jpg">Photo source</a></span>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-21112942469351099212012-08-09T21:36:00.001-07:002012-08-09T21:36:48.480-07:00A Giant Checkmark<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/31831579/72144505507545c96770_1_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/31831579/72144505507545c96770_1_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Guess what I did on my lunch break the other day?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Had some carrots, checked in on Facebook, and oh yeah, <b><u><i>paid off another student loan</i></u></b>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That's 2 for 2012, which was the goal I set for myself back in January. I'm thinking a new goal of 3 for this year? Let's do this!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">{<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/31831579/72144505507545c96770_1_large.jpg">Photo source</a>}</span></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-54075738754938312902012-07-22T22:36:00.000-07:002012-07-22T22:37:38.207-07:00The Beat Goes On<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Let me start by stating the obvious: I was thrilled by the
job offer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But. There was one
teensy problem, and it went a little something like this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8a0wStCvkBEHi7tAMuy-Rvvx4bduqRP90oQEGR-HWrIs-EW1mCk36ohyKmiiE6uJ8Zz82Y-n_8Wxn94Ytkn6Dv6Mqz21YFu0fPQKAJqNRtYt8XLFb5I9RukJ4JMWrQdyw7_RWsoZKxfMl/s1600/Tri+tri.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8a0wStCvkBEHi7tAMuy-Rvvx4bduqRP90oQEGR-HWrIs-EW1mCk36ohyKmiiE6uJ8Zz82Y-n_8Wxn94Ytkn6Dv6Mqz21YFu0fPQKAJqNRtYt8XLFb5I9RukJ4JMWrQdyw7_RWsoZKxfMl/s400/Tri+tri.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></o:p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Umm.. have I mentioned that
we <u>share</u> a car?</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And that we don’t live
anywhere near public transportation?</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Soooo
in the midst of my job-finding glee, there was a dark cloud hanging over that
was bellowing </span><b><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">YOU MUST FIND NEW HOME</span></b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> in a deep, somewhat worrisome monster
voice.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Craigslist and I became total
BFF(FF!!)’s for the weekend, and we found a grand total of <b>one</b>, yes <b>one</b>
apartment that we could afford in the neighborhood we were lusting after. So we went to an open house that Sunday, and
<i>oh friends, I should have taken pictures. </i>
You and I could have sat in a coffee shop and just laughed and laughed
over these pictures.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We had to duck to enter most rooms, including
the bathroom.</span></div>
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There was <u>one</u> <b>coat</b> closet in the entire apartment. I have an awful lot of shoes, ya’ll.<br />
We had to climb three flights of very narrow windy stairs to enter this dreadful place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, we left. And I worried. And I checked in with my new BFF(FF!!) and he
told me about this other place that was just posted two hours before. I was on that phone number like a hungry rat
on some stanky cheese. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The next day, I suckered a
friend into visiting said apartment since hubsud was off being responsible and
working, and even though it wasn’t my dream home, it felt like a good fit. In a good neighborhood. At a <i>very</i> good price. I sent the boy some pics and one day and one
application fee later, <u>it was ours</u>!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I’ll post some pics at some
point, but can I just tell you that I’ve slightly fallen in love with this new
home? Here’s a list of reasons why this
apartment makes me happy:</span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The hot water only lasts for about a 20 minute shower.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Water conservation, anyone?</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Our cat careens around corners on the wooden floors chasing hair bands and
balls made out of aluminum foil.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I’ve already had two neighbors introduce themselves and two others shared a
<i>significantly</i> friendly smile with me.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We have natural light.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><u>Finally!</u></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Storage space in the basement?</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Bring on
the creepy smells and spiders!</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The floor has a slight bubble that makes our bookshelf lean perfectly against the wall.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The walls are the strangest colors of green, yellowy-tan and rusty orange. You can't help but shake your head and hate it, but <b>kind of</b> love it at the same time.</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And the neighborhood, oh my
heart. When out for a run, I ran past
sayings someone wrote in sidewalk chalk.
They said things like “Isn’t the sky beautiful today?” and “Stop
texting! Look around!” and <b>they made me
smile</b>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There’s a park a block from
our house where people go on sunny days with picnic blankets and good company. We sat on our couch with the windows open and
listened to a concert in said park last night.
<u>Beautiful.</u><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And this?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeFeXBNnco1Q7etb2iR7xoUHbq0IKx3VZZQC3gWkiU_zqITqueCKkpR8LzAplS0N84BJycwgtA1pcKq3zvrTWxlRpMOmzWTkEFj1BGy233NxnMDdvrHcufiZaQlMoOdh8yVMK7McR_3Pr/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeFeXBNnco1Q7etb2iR7xoUHbq0IKx3VZZQC3gWkiU_zqITqueCKkpR8LzAplS0N84BJycwgtA1pcKq3zvrTWxlRpMOmzWTkEFj1BGy233NxnMDdvrHcufiZaQlMoOdh8yVMK7McR_3Pr/s400/photo+(1).JPG" width="298" /></a></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Feels like home. <3</b></span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-70138081164147770752012-07-15T21:55:00.001-07:002012-07-15T21:55:38.233-07:00Windows and Pencil Skirts and Fancy Soaps, Oh My!<br />
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<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/32155518/Nora-at-Post_2B1960_27s_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/32155518/Nora-at-Post_2B1960_27s_large.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Hokay, so, the
interview. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I started applying to jobs about 2 weeks before my job
ended. I’m going to go ahead and admit,
I was being pretty picky. After having a
job where I woke up every morning full of anxiety, I was ready for something I
felt confident that I would enjoy. Also,
my <u>super</u> hubadoo made it very clear that he would not allow me to accept
a job unless I really wanted it and was excited about it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">All of this added up to me preparing to be patient and go
through quite a few applications/interviews before finding something. When I got the call for this interview, it
went pretty much how I expected it to go.
The man on the other end said something along the lines of “So I see you’re
a nanny… what experience do you have that’s relevant to this position?” To which I responded politely, <i>“Why, none at all sir!”</i> in my cheeriest
voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>No</b>, I didn’t do
that. I made up some answer good enough
that he invited me in for the interview.
But I was not optimistic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now in order to give myself a teensy bit of credit, I
prepared <i>crazy hard</i> for this
interview. I did research on the
position and the industry and practiced the answers to like 40 common interview
questions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The morning of the interview, I walked into the office and
my first thought was <u>“What am I doing here??”</u> When you walk in the door, you’re greeted by
a huge glass wall that offers views of the river, the city, and the
mountains. The bathrooms had all those
fancy soaps and things that scream “I AM EXPENSIVE AND YOU WILL NEVER USE ME!” And oh baby, did I feel out of place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However, once I sat down, the man who was interviewing me
made me feel immediately at ease. I had
practiced most of the questions he asked, and felt like the interview was going
well. He talked a lot, which helped me
have time to gather my fleeing thoughts, and he had me meet with 2 other
people, the manager of the office and his daughter, the other person I would
potentially be working for. By the time
I left<b>, I had been pretty much
guaranteed the job.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And it was surreal, friends.
This job was an upper-level job where I would work as an assistant to
these 2 financial advisors. The pay was
at the top end of what I was hoping for, plus had bonuses and paid transport
and other such fun additions! In short,
I was <i>completely</i> unqualified for the
job and had no idea why they were offering it to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But I am sly and clever, and I did not let on! I smiled and nodded as my brain was doing
flip-flops of joy, and I sat professionally in my pencil skirt with my legs
crossed (at the ankles of course!). I
walked out confident and with my head held high, and then I sat in my car and
stared at the concrete wall of the parking garage, <u>trying to figure out what
had just happened.</u><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><u><br /></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But I think I know what happened… there is simply no
explanation for this whole chain of events other than that God was behind
it. And I’ll be honest, I was expecting
to be out of work for weeks, if not months, simply because I’m impatient, and <b>haven’t you heard</b> that God always does
things that make you crazy in order to make you a better person?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But for some reason, God decided to give me a break on this
one. I’m not going to try to explain
why, but I am going to continue trying to be thankful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now if you thought I was done with storytime, you were sooo
mistaken. I won’t let you off that easy,
silly! <i>Stay tuned…</i></span><o:p></o:p></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-25671339514392393512012-07-09T22:20:00.001-07:002012-07-09T22:20:53.568-07:00Storytime on Steroids<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Holy Smoky Mountains</b>, readers. I hope you have noticed my absence, because I have missed writing!</span><br />
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<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Basically, I now lead a <u>completely</u> different life than when I last wrote, but we'll get to that. I'm going to backtrack like mad, and tell you some stories about what has been happening in the last 3 weeks. It's pretty crazy stuff, so please hold on tight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Let's start with the last day of my nanny job. I knew it was coming, but it was still bittersweet. Saying goodbye is always hard for me, <i>can I get a witness?</i> Here's some snippets into the way my last week or so went.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Monday: "Nolan, I need to tell you something. Starting next week, I'm not going to be around much. Mommy will be done with work for the summer, so she'll get to be home with you all the time, and you guys will have <i>so</i> much fun together! But that means I won't be around much, since mommy will be here."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Nolan: "But why? I think you should stay".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Me: Tiny fissures appear in my heart.<b> So. Sweet.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Tuesday afternoon, while doing something completely unrelated: "Hey Kaitlyn, I have an idea!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Me: "What's your idea?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Nolan: "I think you should stay with me and mommy and daddy and Colby, and we can all watch Geotrax! (movie)."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Me: Fissures becoming larger. <u>Oy.</u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Thursday, my last day together: We spent the whole day doing fun things. We made puppets, went to the park, and then ended at Nolan's favorite place in the world, a Chuck E. Cheese-like indoor amusement park and arcade. This pretty much sums it all up:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuTaUzdV78p82RGYzJDng6N1NIUP2nzJePcLDOtnppYlYc7kVa-HPwRNc29vW8UvS_J3bNaYxIaahbTDV8pR9wkUq4Pl9VgYxbDeg0OUW34Vf-zZonT3cHLFfRoZh443Ynho9ktMB2s2mY/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuTaUzdV78p82RGYzJDng6N1NIUP2nzJePcLDOtnppYlYc7kVa-HPwRNc29vW8UvS_J3bNaYxIaahbTDV8pR9wkUq4Pl9VgYxbDeg0OUW34Vf-zZonT3cHLFfRoZh443Ynho9ktMB2s2mY/s400/photo.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anyway, it was just a really hard day, and I do miss the boys and the family. But at the same time it was such a relief to be done and begin to look toward the next stage in life, whatever that may be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Well, how <i>interesting</i> that you brought that up, because I happened to have my first job interview the very day after my nanny job ended. Would you like to know how that went? Because I would like to tell you. <u>More on that later my friends.</u> (Cliffhanger whaaaaat??)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-55067550068893462702012-05-28T13:41:00.001-07:002012-05-28T13:41:32.196-07:00Preparation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/29459736/tumblr_m4m4c9LZg11rs2uy4o1_500_large.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/29459736/tumblr_m4m4c9LZg11rs2uy4o1_500_large.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">If you've been keeping track, you must be aware that my job is ending soon. If you've been paying attention, you'll know that is <b>quite</b> a cause for celebration. If you know me in real life, you might perceive how petrified I am.</span><div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">For the last 3-4 years, my life has pretty much been all about kids. Babysitting, classes, nannying, student teaching, mini-teaching, more classes about how they learn, how to teach them, and then nannying some more. <u>This is my comfort zone, even if I'm unhappy in it</u>. I know kids, I'm good with them, and I can ace any interview involving them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And now. Now I'm getting ready to venture into this <i>completely unknown</i> space where there are no kids and none of my knowledge base matters. I'm so. so. <b>SO</b> unbelievably ready for this place, but I'm also scared out of my mind that I won't be welcome there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I know my personality. I'm a hard worker, I love learning new things, and I am organized and professional to a fault. But personality doesn't show up on a resume, and so as I read job descriptions and begin to think about the application/interview process, I have <u>never</u> felt so unprepared for something in my life. The idea that I'm not actually technically qualified for jobs in most any area outside working with children, and that therefore someone will have to be willing to <i>take a chance on me</i>, is, well, unnerving to say the least.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However... my fear has forced me into an unusual place. I pray all the time about this situation, knowing that for me to find the <i>right </i>job for me in this time in my life will take nothing short of a <b>miracle</b>. It's nothing I can do on my own, because I don't have the skills and experience needed. So I pray before, during, and after I look at job descriptions. I'll be praying later today as I try to piece together a resume that focuses on skills acquired but doesn't include wiping noses (or butts for that matter), teaching the alphabet, or my repertoire of children's books. I'll pray over each email, phone call, or interview, knowing that <u>only with God's help</u> will I end up with something that makes me happy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I will <b><u>not</u></b> allow myself to settle for another nannying, preschool worker, or babysitting job. I am determined to be <i>patient </i>(not my strong suit...sigh) and wait on the Lord while He does the work of preparing me and my future workplace for each other. And wouldn't you know it, in all that praying and practicing patience and forced reliance on God, I'm feeling a little less <b>afraid</b> and a little more <b>hopeful</b>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When I have good news, you'll be the first to know. :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">{<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/29459736/tumblr_m4m4c9LZg11rs2uy4o1_500_large.png">Photo source</a>}</span></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-10239900141676101942012-05-23T20:27:00.001-07:002012-05-23T21:50:31.620-07:00One Step Closer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/28770617/tumblr_m43ya89qoU1qc4q9io1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/28770617/tumblr_m43ya89qoU1qc4q9io1_500_large.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I've <a href="http://werealluntamed.blogspot.com/2012/01/this-broken-path.html">mentioned briefly before</a> how I don't want to portray my marriage as some perfect union of two people who just love and love and never screw up. Because it isn't, and thank <i>goodness</i> for that (I think). I want to be honest about the ups and downs so others feel comfortable being honest about theirs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So. With that lovely intro, last night, the huverbee and I had a<b> Talk</b> with a capital T. This was a unique talk, because I had been putting it off for a while. Lately, I've been feeling very unhappy in our marriage, and I had adopted this attitude of resignation, this feeling that things would never get better and so I just needed to adjust my expectations of happiness and stop with all the pity parties. It was <u>totally unfair</u> to both me and the heebab, and so last night I finally gathered the courage to open up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A big piece of the fear I felt toward this particular conversation actually stems from the amount of love I have for my dear beloved. I was well aware of how my feelings portrayed him as the bad guy, and I was <i>terrified</i> of hurting him. I never want him to question my love/commitment for him, and I was so scared that's what his response would be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Out of this fear and unhappiness came something absolutely<b> beautiful</b>, a revelation about each other that has the potential to change the way we interact. But woah Nelly, let's slow down a teensy moment. Let's set the scene before we jump in: I wrote a <a href="http://werealluntamed.blogspot.com/2011/10/marriage-musings.html">while ago</a> about love languages, and how people seem to view them as a magic marriage-saving potion. I've also mentioned how silly I think this is. BUT as I was reading a book on marriage, I was reminded of the quiz I wrote about that told both me and hulzer that our love language was quality time, yet I never feel like he wants to spend quality time with me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As I mulled this over, I was struck by a thought that was later confirmed by our Talk. Ok, you may re-enter the scene. So I asked this man who is my husband, <b>"Husband, when do you feel like we are spending quality time together? What does that look like for you?" </b> And he proceeded to tell me that he loved watching movies with me, or watching a Blazer game, and even gave me some background about why those things feel important to him, bless his unusually talkative heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now this may not seem like a revelation to you, but oh my stars, it explained so much! You see, quality time to <i>me</i> REQUIRES conversation. It absolutely <b>must</b> include some form of deep, meaningful communication, or else it's a <u>bust</u>. If you are laughing to yourself at the way this must play out, you are one smart cookie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">On a normal night, this is what might happen. I will be sitting in bed on the computer, and the H will call from the other room, asking me to join him on the couch in watching TV. I will respond negatively, feeling like he is trying to "cheat" on our quality time together by just having me sit next to him while he watches the game he would have watched anyway. But what is really happening is that<b> he is asking for my presence, asking me to show him love</b> by wanting to be next to him and participate in this activity with him, <u>even if we're not saying a word.</u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Are you seeing the light, my friend?? It rocked my world to be honest. If I go sit with him and watch a show or a game or a movie and know that I am satisfying him, serving him, loving him, then <i>it's all worth it</i>. It completely changes this meaningless activity into an easy and wonderful way to serve my husband. He's not cheating on anything, but simply trying to tell me how to love him. And I'm finally listening, hallelujah and <u><b>amen</b></u>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">{<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/28770617/tumblr_m43ya89qoU1qc4q9io1_500_large.jpg">Photo source</a>}</span></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-15102891456610196342012-05-14T18:04:00.001-07:002012-05-14T18:04:18.303-07:00Some Good Advice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwamd8atuUcR9Zgi3aY-RgGY8oFq7kTMdaowf166EcUXkDP9oYdqoQzDVgc_Zz5vUTC_Vkl-AC5gx8IcTW5jJnSBOQoVs374hHPKP4vrgcSVCDzsicMiVt60Mp6LAlOetuBT5pqy2uGwYe/s1600/DSC_0922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwamd8atuUcR9Zgi3aY-RgGY8oFq7kTMdaowf166EcUXkDP9oYdqoQzDVgc_Zz5vUTC_Vkl-AC5gx8IcTW5jJnSBOQoVs374hHPKP4vrgcSVCDzsicMiVt60Mp6LAlOetuBT5pqy2uGwYe/s400/DSC_0922.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So there I was, letting Pinterest suck the day away, when I came across <a href="http://lydianetzer.blogspot.com/2012/04/15-ways-to-stay-married-for-15-years.html">this</a> fantastic article full of marital advice. I <i>swoon </i>for this type of thing, so of course I immediately devoured the entire thing. It's full of some atypical advice, most of which I heartily agree with even after being married for less than a year. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There were several that were very poignant (ok fine I teared up at a couple STOP JUDGING ME AND MY FRAIL EMOTIONS!), but one really hit home for me:</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10. Stop thinking temporarily.</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"></span><br />
<div style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Marriage is not conditional. It is permanent. Your husband will be with you until you die. That is a given. It sounds obvious, but really making it a given is hard. You tend to think in “ifs” and “thens” even when you’ve publicly committed to forever. If he does this, I won’t tolerate it. If I do this, he’ll leave me. If I get fat. If I change jobs. If he says mean things. If he doesn’t pay more attention. It’s natural, especially in the beginning of your marriage, to keep those doubts in your head. But the sooner you can get go of the idea that marriage is temporary, and will end if certain awful conditions are met, the sooner you will let go of all kinds of conflict and stress.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In the devotional that my hooboo and I are currently reading, they talk about how Satan will most definitely try to attack your marriage because it's something that is so <b>precious</b> to God, and can be such a <u>powerful</u> witness of your faith. I can identify without a doubt where I have felt attacked in our marriage, from even before we tied the knot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I read a lot, you see. Blogs, books, newspapers, magazines, pretty much anything I can get my hands on. And you know as well as I do that marriages are no longer the commitment that they used to be, what with that<b> 50% thing</b> hovering over them. So even though I am 1,000% against divorce (especially after being in the middle of one as a child), it still gets in my head. It seems like everywhere I look, people are cheating on each other with the tiniest provocation, and a seed gets planted in my brain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Sometimes when I'm having an especially bad day or Monsieur Winn and I are having a <u>particularly</u> distasteful argument, I can literally almost hear Satan's voice whispering in my ear. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">"You better let him buy that ice cream/electronic/video game, or he'll start building resentment toward you, and you won't even be able to look at each other 5 years down the road."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">"Nagging again? He might get awfully tired of only hearing criticisms and seek out someone who is a better listener."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">"He didn't kiss you goodnight? Maybe you should have changed out of your pajamas today...""</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">It's super hard to put these in writing, and I shudder just to think about them. I'm not saying all of these don't have a nugget of truth in them. I <i>do</i> need to let him splurge every once in a while, but he's also benefiting in <u>so</u> many ways by my good money management. I do need to cut down on the nagging, but occasionally he really does need a reminder. And I probably shouldn't stay in my pjams all day, but I'm allowed the occasional day of doing nothing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">The lie behind all of these is that my adoring husband would leave me at the slightest sign of a bump in the road. And if you know him at all, you understand how <b>ridiculous</b> that is. He is fiercely loyal, and if I allow myself to admit it, he's as crazy about me as he was when we first met. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I <i>love</i> being married. Of course it's not always super fun and perfect, but I love having my best friend around all the time and having someone to lean on when I'm not doing well. Reading that advice today reminded me that it's ok to trust that God put us together for a reason, and to have faith in my H's capacity for love. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">So the next time I hear him at the door while I'm still in my sweats, I'm not going to give in and feel guilty about it. I'm going to giggle at how comfy I am and invite him to put his sweats on too!</span></span></div>
</span>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-5392728195761796062012-05-05T21:28:00.000-07:002012-05-05T21:28:35.340-07:00My Moment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Last night, I had a <i>"moment"</i>. I threw my hands in the air and said these words to my heebab in a <u>mildly</u> insane voice: "Sometimes I just want to be immature! I want to turn on hip hop music and shake my buns, I want to have photo shoots and giggle, I want to have a farting contest!" Yes, friends, this was my moment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Let's back up a teensy bit. I had had a really long day at work, got home and immediately went grocery shopping and started dinner, only to realize the dish I had picked out (and started) was going to take too long to cook and we had somewhere to be. I then proceeded to throw a tantrum (aren't I a <b>gem</b>?) while my ever-patient huzzah threw some pasta in a pot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Then we went to the church so Sir Boy could run sound for worship practice, and I just felt tired and <i>off</i> all night. Cue "moment" on drive home after I realized how insanely boring I must appear to all those around me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">During college, I felt <u>so</u> incredibly free and happy to just be myself, and now I am still struggling to find that. We've lived here in Portland for almost 10 months (woweee!), and I still don't feel like we have any friends who I can truly be myself around. I have small talk or even serious conversations with people, but we never share a joke or have a wee little gigglefest. I can't steal food off of their plates at restaurants or sing them the made-up songs that are <b>always</b> in my head.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm tired of being so serious all the time; I'm even boring myself. But I guess in the past I always let the other person be weird first, waiting for permission to show off my self-created genius choreography to that song on the radio. How do I cross that little bridge of polite behavior, when I really just want to burn it to the ground and <u>do a jig</u> on its ashes?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I think I'm pretending to be a grown-up, even though I still don't feel like one. I don't have any answers yet obviously, but my <i>wise</i> man-mate suggested this solution: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Let's go home and do all those things then! We can dance around and play games and giggle."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><u>Exasperated me:</u> "It's not quite as fun when it's just the two of us."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"We can have our cat join in!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Dear Lord, there's no hope for us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-36618977958135986562012-05-02T21:42:00.001-07:002012-05-02T21:42:18.571-07:00Hey Hey Vacaaaay<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Well friends, I definitely left you hanging, didn't I? My apologies for the lack of action around these parts, but I had a <b>vacation</b> to plan and attend. And it was wonderful. Heavenly. <u> Perfect.</u> All of those annoying adjectives.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Hubra and I have been planning this for quite a while now, ever since we got our generous tax return. We both needed it because our jobs are not our favorite, but the boy especially was in need because he had a very long week before we left!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In short, he had to work this phone from Monday-Sunday, starting at 5:30 on weekdays and <b>24/7</b> on Saturday and Sunday. It was the worst! He was stressed about it and it woke us up in the middle of the night more than once (okay, fine, twice, but <i>still</i>). Needless to say, some time away was <u>extra</u> beneficial for him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anywhoooo, we went and spent 2 days in Tillamook, Oregon and spent the other 2 in Oceanside. Here are some fancy pics from the week!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Stopped in for a wine and cheese tasting!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmzNcDzYte1Z-cHaXjZPIidPoi5thZLOE4P5JV8VEI9pGpDvcs5a8FKUm9ShE5oq-i3l5yRSNvQlBvWG9Ypn_Q3OJVoC7-IyT6aNYL47__k9pWZKc6Mv1AMYcCE1Yfhetm9wkE0UM4WOW0/s1600/IMG_0532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmzNcDzYte1Z-cHaXjZPIidPoi5thZLOE4P5JV8VEI9pGpDvcs5a8FKUm9ShE5oq-i3l5yRSNvQlBvWG9Ypn_Q3OJVoC7-IyT6aNYL47__k9pWZKc6Mv1AMYcCE1Yfhetm9wkE0UM4WOW0/s320/IMG_0532.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Toured the factory and got some ridiculously amazing ice cream.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This happened, of course.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My favorite place on the trip!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We climbed that dune and those cliffs!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">About halfway up. Notice those tiny people at the bottom!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The view.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Waaaaay up high on the top of Cape Lookout.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mitch found me the first 4-leaf clover I've ever seen!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHCElagSsSr43r-P_7lrLPLZYA-9M-5VQqZxQcuQB5hnoJFtvm4VGT_PQFLw2KyLaoPIp5poBU5OVqZZw3RSsd4DKJ4I3-imMWENmNLjVap1guSYN8kH3ZYXQ1nB6Kp7uTgCXrZLQ6V_y/s1600/IMG_0666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHCElagSsSr43r-P_7lrLPLZYA-9M-5VQqZxQcuQB5hnoJFtvm4VGT_PQFLw2KyLaoPIp5poBU5OVqZZw3RSsd4DKJ4I3-imMWENmNLjVap1guSYN8kH3ZYXQ1nB6Kp7uTgCXrZLQ6V_y/s320/IMG_0666.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There was a paragliding conference in town!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilX_dkNIGy0H64-fZLSVRtpMW-Mi38Tr091fsRiYNJIgP-w3qDb8CAwOP-PJR4GT7YeGDbhbi581oAJf0mPt6Lran3I4-wB0gQdqauU8ikEuqIhCjLDlOlx5jvUuWd5Q-JfY59Cwbh2jFw/s1600/IMG_0670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilX_dkNIGy0H64-fZLSVRtpMW-Mi38Tr091fsRiYNJIgP-w3qDb8CAwOP-PJR4GT7YeGDbhbi581oAJf0mPt6Lran3I4-wB0gQdqauU8ikEuqIhCjLDlOlx5jvUuWd5Q-JfY59Cwbh2jFw/s320/IMG_0670.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We went kayaking, I think it was Mitch's favorite!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNnS12SuidsFjiZ1UxRY_lUqbdm7DiMbTPoZpaEx1jGNjzdbLXi0vjWU6-a7TKiubiXCHLjyofSR9EgK_8W82n8wbUOL_gObzZuVeN4ragPs6mRpgPZdi51ky5dgmNF0WM57fGZ7OwOHzg/s1600/IMG_0676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNnS12SuidsFjiZ1UxRY_lUqbdm7DiMbTPoZpaEx1jGNjzdbLXi0vjWU6-a7TKiubiXCHLjyofSR9EgK_8W82n8wbUOL_gObzZuVeN4ragPs6mRpgPZdi51ky5dgmNF0WM57fGZ7OwOHzg/s320/IMG_0676.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Our beautiful oceanfront hotel room with a jetted tub!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The <b>best</b> part was that we had set a $700 budget for everything- food, souvenirs, lodging, activities, gas, all of it. We spared no expense- ate out, went kayaking, drove 40 minutes just to eat at a restaurant we'd heard good things about, and still came home with <i>$84 leftover</i>! It felt so good to be able to enjoy ourselves without worrying about the money- a taste of what's to come when we're debt free someday.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-51784110811671769062012-04-11T20:24:00.000-07:002012-04-11T20:28:40.954-07:00The Easter Grinch<br />
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<a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/538172_10150908752812306_517032305_12750114_719566956_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/538172_10150908752812306_517032305_12750114_719566956_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I would not call myself a family person. Believe me, I am fully aware that this makes
me sound like I have a <b>heart full of
stone</b>, but that’s not exactly what I mean.
I have a pretty large family, not just in my four siblings and four
parental units, but also in my extended family on both sides. Not only is the family large, but most of
them (both immediate and extended) live in or near the small town where I grew
up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Needless to say, I grew up surrounded by people, <u>especially
at holidays.</u> Most holidays had
little more meaning than a lot of food and a lot of people, and I looked
forward to them only so I could eat as much dessert as I wanted and listen to
relatives comment on how tall I was getting (a source of never-ending pride to
my young self). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However, my parents especially are not overly emotional
people, preferring instead to just quietly support whatever I wanted to do. So it was that when the time came to move to
Chicago for college, there were a few tears of course, but mostly I felt <i>free</i> to move on. I called whenever I felt it was time, and I
didn’t give in to the lonely feelings of homesickness because <b>I knew it was only a matter of time</b>
before I saw them again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">All that background leads me into a story. Rewind to this time last week, and I was a <u>grumpy
mess</u>. Easter was coming, and we had
no family around to celebrate with. As
previously mentioned, I’m used to big gatherings full of small talk and too
much food, and the idea of spending a holiday with just the hubdubalub and me
was <i>just plain depressing</i>, to be
honest. If ever there were an Easter Grinch,
it would have to be me. I guess I’m more
of a family person than I had realized…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anyway, I wasn’t fun to be around. Every time I thought of Sunday, I got sad and
lonely and made snide comments about it being “just the two of us” with a sour
look on my face, as if I could think of <b>nothing</b>
worse than spending time with the love of my life. Please pity the husband-man, he could use it!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As the week rolled on, I decided I was going to slap Easter
in the face and make it wonderful and memorable and delicious even if it was <i>-sigh-</i> just the two of us. I bought a feast and picked out a pretty
Easter outfit and pretended to be happy when in fact I was still <u>quite
grumbly</u> about it all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There I was in church Easter morning in my pretty outfit
with the menu all planned for the afternoon, and something began gnawing on
me. Church is <b>so darn good</b> at bringing out those feelings, the ones we call “convictions”
in Christianese. As the sermon
progressed, it began to sink in that Easter is the epitome of joy, the one day
where the entire foundation of my life is proved victorious. He is risen! the church sang, and my heart
began to rise with Him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">If ever there was a day to be truly joyful, it is Easter
Sunday, my friends. I was so
self-centered and self-pitying that I had completely overlooked the reason we
gather to celebrate: that <b><i><u>my Savior conquered death</u></i></b> for
my sake and has risen to live among us.
My oh my did I feel small as I realized that those very selfish thoughts
are the kind that remind me how needy I am, how desperate for the grace offered
in Christ’s victory over the cross.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After all the sadness leading up to it, this Easter was <i>good</i>, dear readers. We did feast.
We did enjoy sunshine and special desserts. But above all we <u>worshipped</u>, full of
true joy and admiration for a God who never gives up on the Grinches of the
world. </span><o:p></o:p></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-56471552905333183572012-04-04T15:41:00.000-07:002012-04-04T15:42:25.535-07:00Playing Catch-Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/26112100/tumblr_m1z6otKqQo1qmowaco1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/26112100/tumblr_m1z6otKqQo1qmowaco1_500_large.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Oops.</b> I did that thing again where I think of all these great post ideas and then go eat a sandwich or take a nap and never do anything about it. So instead of working up the motivation to write a whole post about some mind-blowing theme, I'm just going to play a <i>little game of catch-up</i> with you!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">First, I do want to share some fun financial news. Fun is the only word that <u>fully</u> embodies the essence of finances, right?? <b>Wrong.</b> But this one is pretty jolly: we have finally paid off all the interest on our loans! So in essence, <i>we are back where we started</i>, which could be really depressing, but not for this gal! From here on out, all we'll be doing is make progress, and that's <u>pretty darn neat-o</u>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Also, a small update about groceries <a href="http://werealluntamed.blogspot.com/2012/03/games.html">because I told you I would</a>. My savings for March were $83.42 and 29.8%, which is less than February, but we also spent $98 less on groceries overall plus I tried my hand at shopping at more than one store for the first time, so it obviously still counts in the <b>win</b> column. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So I started a little countdown... 33 days of work left! That sounds ridiculously do-able until I also tell you that it's 11 1/2 weeks, but I'm <u>ignoring</u> that part and focusing on the 33 thing. About a month and a half from now, I'll be able to start looking for a new job and relive <a href="http://werealluntamed.blogspot.com/2011/09/be-careful-what-you-wish-for.html">this</a> and also <a href="http://werealluntamed.blogspot.com/2011/09/its-party-time.html">this</a> whole process over again. Yippee. <i> But really</i>, yippee!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What else? I have been horrible to the dear H lately, I am sorry to say. Last night, he said something along the lines of, "Why are you snapping at me like a gosh darned sea turtle?" and I sat for a good ten minutes thinking about it, and realized I just really wanted to <b>fight</b>. Not with him, not at all. But I wanted to give someone a good <i>spank in the brain</i> with my ferocious words, and he happened to be the only person close enough to practice on. I took many deep breaths and re-calmed myself, and hopefully I learned that spouses do not make good practice targets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In better news, I just got back from a wild spring break trip spent with my new baby niece, who is <u>adorable beyond words</u>. I got sunburned twice and giggled like a schoolgirl about it, and also laid around and marveled at my niece who is so much better than your niece. I am sorry about that part, but <b>the truth hurts</b>. I may have cried after leaving her because my sister is one of the most important people in my life, and one of the most important people in <i>her</i> life will never really know me, and if that's not a cause for a good cry, <u>I don't know what is.</u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Other than that, I spend my days on bended knee asking the good Lord in heaven above to please send some <b>sunshine</b> and <i>maybe</i> not so much rain? And then to go ahead and send a <u>massive</u> heat wave while He's at it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What have your recent days been filled with?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">P.S. I pretty much never take naps, so that beginning part was a lie. Oops again.</span></div>
</div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-74111424538431272482012-03-23T12:03:00.000-07:002012-03-23T12:03:45.113-07:00Corn and Broccoli Calzones<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Normally I stay away from these types of posts. I never <i>really</i>
attempted to cook until I got married. I
made valiant efforts in college occasionally, but I mostly lived off of Pasta
Roni and sandwiches. Needless to say,
cooking is new territory for me.
Therefore, I feel highly unqualified to post recipes or any such
nonsense. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However, since I already shared my…ummm… <b><a href="http://werealluntamed.blogspot.com/2012/02/pizza-mishaps.html">interesting</a></b>
relationship with food, anything out of the ordinary is quite a big deal for
me. My hubeeba and I also try to make an
effort not to eat a whole lot of meat (sometimes) and this is actually a great
meatless recipe that is healthy and super filling. So I come to you bearing <u>Corn and Broccoli
Calzones!</u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ingredients:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1 1/2 cups chopped broccoli florets</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1 1/2 cups corn kernels</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1 cup shredded part-skim mozzarella cheese</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2/3 cup part-skim ricotta cheese</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1/4 cup chopped basil</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1/2 teaspoon garlic powder</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Flour, for dusting</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">20 oz. prepared whole wheat pizza dough (mine is store-bought)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2 teaspoons oil (I use olive oil)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Salt and pepper to taste</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Directions:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1. Preheat oven to 475* F. Coat baking sheet with cooking spray.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2. Combine broccoli, corn, mozzarella, ricotta, basil, garlic powder, salt and pepper in a large bowl. Stir until fully mixed.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMHziiEL9hl1wC8KItIG8FgufFO51Zyv0hJUTii7r98zMIV_q6ezlz5daMfL_uzDE9HGF_A6kn49cnbq5s0IYYuLi7s38CkqK_sy7-90pbcGZxHOZ9ZeA9gNa-4umj7RJd9aEKCO9uBZf/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMHziiEL9hl1wC8KItIG8FgufFO51Zyv0hJUTii7r98zMIV_q6ezlz5daMfL_uzDE9HGF_A6kn49cnbq5s0IYYuLi7s38CkqK_sy7-90pbcGZxHOZ9ZeA9gNa-4umj7RJd9aEKCO9uBZf/s320/photo.JPG" width="293" /></a></div>
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Should look vaguely like this. MUST use bright blue mixing bowl for optimal success.</div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">3. On a lightly floured surface, divide dough into 6 pieces. Roll each piece into an 8-inch circle. Place a generous 3/4 cup filling on one half of each circle, leaving a 1-inch border of dough. Fold top half over the filling.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMUnVQNpk8WufAP0HbocrEdDH187adxUSaLmpd4ISpEkIPKCBMYcRDAgd4I3tTALXDgkiqoMXrDzw3AdHdJZ9yIC0_m4ONLIevaGj-TM8Wxn2ivNkDW8rJM3G5CXWscOpY6v6TQ3UZf6PM/s1600/photo+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMUnVQNpk8WufAP0HbocrEdDH187adxUSaLmpd4ISpEkIPKCBMYcRDAgd4I3tTALXDgkiqoMXrDzw3AdHdJZ9yIC0_m4ONLIevaGj-TM8Wxn2ivNkDW8rJM3G5CXWscOpY6v6TQ3UZf6PM/s320/photo+(2).JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I don't have a rolling pin, so don't judge my "circles".</div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">4. Fold edges over and crimp with a fork to seal. Make several small slits in the top to vent steam; brush each calzone with oil. Transfer the calzones to the prepares baking sheets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">5. Bake the calzones until browned on top, about 15 minutes. Let cool slightly before serving.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaxcv5DTPlFIkgbtttXDhEmXzBS84DWVOu-3g92f22Xzgs6I3XFAly9w-tksgsO2e0sTY-6BE9xjcut3TrLnxp_ncIozpGaaUqi1E7lMJZzqNnYziuE7E7Z3Pjatem4-U57lHhRd18SfpW/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaxcv5DTPlFIkgbtttXDhEmXzBS84DWVOu-3g92f22Xzgs6I3XFAly9w-tksgsO2e0sTY-6BE9xjcut3TrLnxp_ncIozpGaaUqi1E7lMJZzqNnYziuE7E7Z3Pjatem4-U57lHhRd18SfpW/s320/photo+(1).JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I sprinkled with cheese, obviously.</div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I did get this recipe from somewhere, but since I don't remember where anymore, I don't feel bad about not giving credit! <u>That's how I roll</u>. Anyway, each one of these puppies is only about 200ish calories, so it's <b>really</b> easy to turn into a healthy dinner. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">That's all, folks!</span></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-78267555246608668522012-03-16T14:23:00.000-07:002012-03-16T14:23:29.937-07:00The Hard Middle Ground<br />
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<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/24648142/tumblr_m0p7b4Ufa41rrrvzfo1_500_large.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/24648142/tumblr_m0p7b4Ufa41rrrvzfo1_500_large.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The biggest thing I learned in college is that there are a <b>lot</b> of bad things going on in the world
and a <b>lot</b> of good people trying to
change that. I grew up in small-town
Missouri, and sure, I knew bad things existed.
I saw the children on TV and sponsored a child for a few years when I
was a preteen. But for better or for
worse, I was also incredibly sheltered from real injustices.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My town had (has?) an active KKK clan that sent a
threatening letter to our high school band director after he paid tribute to
Rosa Parks during a concert. Needless to
say, I had <u>zero</u> friends growing up who weren’t from white, middle-class
families. All the bad things on the
local news happened in Kansas City, a good 35+ minutes away, and <i>were therefore of no concern</i>. My youth group participated in the 30-Hour
Famine, but I only went to play games and flirt with boys.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Then I moved to Chicago, more specifically to Albany Park, one
of <b>the</b> most diverse areas in the
entire nation. I learned about human
trafficking not just overseas but here in the US, about homelessness and
political wars and racial/economic injustice.
I was <u>overwhelmed</u> with information and <u>overwhelmed</u> by a
desire to help.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My dream was to go serve in an orphanage after I
graduated. I loved kids, and wanted to
be somewhere where my actions could be most useful. The college even linked to a 6 month internship
at an orphanage in Zambia, and I was sure that was where I was headed. <b>Then I
fell in love.</b> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As things got more serious between me and the HH (handsome
hubbeeeee), I slowly realized my dreams needed to change. He didn’t want to go to Africa; he wanted to
go to Portland. He <i>wanted </i>a big house with a nice yard, nice cars, and nice things,
while I felt all of those things were inherently evil in some way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Fast forward and here I am, living in Portland, occasionally
catching myself dreaming about the house I’ll someday own. I work at a job I hate just to bring home a
paycheck so I can pay off debt and go out to eat every once in a while. My education pushes me to be revolutionary,
while society pushes me to just blend in, and it is <u>incredibly</u> hard for
me to live in the tension.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The sad truth is, I don’t think I would have been any
happier in that orphanage. I would have
gained life experiences and perspective, sure, but joy? I doubt it, simply because it’s not where God
was <i>really</i> calling me, I only wanted
to go so everyone (including God) would see how helpful I was and how much I
loved them/Him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>It’s so much harder
to love people from my comfort zone</b>.
I feel like if I was shoved into the unknown, I would love and depend on
people because I had nowhere else to turn.
But now I have a TV, a constant companion, even a cat for goodness
sake. Instead of inviting people over
for dinner, I can watch reruns. Instead
of volunteering downtown, I could go for a hike or write a blog post (ha). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It’s something I struggle with every single day. I feel like I either can’t or don’t love
Jesus enough when I’m stuck in my comfortable bubble. Sometimes I get mad at God because He called
us here and <i>I don’t know what to do with
the calling. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But I know He’s here, teaching me something. I have a feeling it has a little something to
do with patience, politics, and money, and a lot to do with faith. For now, I’m trying to find <u>peace</u> with
Him in the midst of consumer chaos and trying to find the courage to believe He’s
got something worthwhile up ahead.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">{<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/24648142/tumblr_m0p7b4Ufa41rrrvzfo1_500_large.png">Photo source</a>}</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-60863824974889389292012-03-13T13:13:00.000-07:002012-03-13T13:13:03.539-07:00Haley's Here!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgghDwJ_QvuUkR_Y8abMf6Wf3iyVEX5Ac06TJtsWFQlQ9syy5seYEx5MMSJRxJ0mw-UgbpoKIblHH7hnKpMccIQ7rVkHjuvbuhCCOGQ6Hj1aCk8wWTD_qhvewHTLf_d9FUmbNeTGH-qXXpb/s1600/426896_3078276073873_1172880074_32504751_1628823852_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgghDwJ_QvuUkR_Y8abMf6Wf3iyVEX5Ac06TJtsWFQlQ9syy5seYEx5MMSJRxJ0mw-UgbpoKIblHH7hnKpMccIQ7rVkHjuvbuhCCOGQ6Hj1aCk8wWTD_qhvewHTLf_d9FUmbNeTGH-qXXpb/s400/426896_3078276073873_1172880074_32504751_1628823852_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Today is a good day!</b> My sister and best friend gave birth to a beautiful baby girl! Generally speaking, I think newborn babies are creepy and wrinkled and look like aliens, but for <i>some</i> reason this one is an exception. :)</span><div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhITBUSgxdxUWYKTvznMVIjQ1oQDtYMu630Yk_38RBD6232DTXYTxuQZ28lgjkex6Dp2ue5WQpIOMDZ-unXJO1v_HONO3ZIRDmp9A0OvA6WihFoEASbUnqUKI8bbYwwB_uGqbRMMNiZMZfU/s1600/421057_10151369238505251_583595250_23047417_814367139_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhITBUSgxdxUWYKTvznMVIjQ1oQDtYMu630Yk_38RBD6232DTXYTxuQZ28lgjkex6Dp2ue5WQpIOMDZ-unXJO1v_HONO3ZIRDmp9A0OvA6WihFoEASbUnqUKI8bbYwwB_uGqbRMMNiZMZfU/s400/421057_10151369238505251_583595250_23047417_814367139_n.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today is by far the hardest day to be away from my family, and looking at all the pictures being posted of this little baby makes my heart <u>ache</u>. I've pretty much just sat here all day glued to my phone and Facebook waiting for someone to post another picture. But I get to go see her in a couple of weeks, and I'll get some time with her all to myself!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I waaaas really hoping she'd be a redhead, because redheaded little girls are possibly <b>the</b> cutest thing ever invented, but I guess she'll do. :)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3vPM4TwUfosrJtWS4Z6Nxl6BvsrI5OkHRCai3mtM2jWnMshyVjOJLrzSUqjZxheJGwxaRjAtCNQGo6k4nTH3vlYYXpeJ5sq_Px9Pry3iroh_ZvdAnJm49oxx9ESz8byFPGlRmOeMsAONs/s1600/427494_3078275353855_1172880074_32504749_1755637169_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3vPM4TwUfosrJtWS4Z6Nxl6BvsrI5OkHRCai3mtM2jWnMshyVjOJLrzSUqjZxheJGwxaRjAtCNQGo6k4nTH3vlYYXpeJ5sq_Px9Pry3iroh_ZvdAnJm49oxx9ESz8byFPGlRmOeMsAONs/s400/427494_3078275353855_1172880074_32504749_1755637169_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So proud of my sister and excited for her and her husband as they begin a brand-new phase of their life together!</span></div>
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</div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-88037243599557460622012-03-10T15:23:00.000-08:002012-03-10T15:25:38.218-08:00Games<br />
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<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/1196779/5118ac35eab1_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/1196779/5118ac35eab1_large.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Money has always been just a little bit of a game to
me. I know that’s sounds <i>slightly</i> insane, but it’s true. I <u>Love with a capital L</u> any sort of
puzzle or game, and turning money into a game has allowed me to succeed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ok, so I can’t <b>really</b>
say I’m succeeding yet, what with <a href="http://werealluntamed.blogspot.com/2011/10/road-trip.html">those nasty loans</a> hanging over my head, but –sad
as it is- I didn’t know better with those, and I’ll never make the same mistake
again! But because of those poopsters, I’ve
had to get <i>creative</i> with our income
so that our biggest priority can be to get rid of them. We’ve already paid <u>over $11,000</u> since Septemberish,
so I’d say we’re doing just fine!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anywho, I shared<a href="http://werealluntamed.blogspot.com/2012/02/by-now-whole-world-knows-about-crazy.html"> before</a> that our grocery bill is one that
hits us the hardest. I don’t know why, I
just have a really hard time saying no when the HB wants late-night ice cream
or I become a chocolate goblin and absolutely positively <b>canNOT</b> live another second without it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, I’ve turned it into a game to help motivate me! February is the first month that I started
keeping track of every single trip to the grocery store, and therefore being more <u>proactive</u>
about saving. I looked for more coupons
and sales, and <i>tried </i>to limit myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The good news is that over the entire month, I saved a total
of $127.97 using a variety of tactics, and averaged 31% savings every single
trip! The bad news is that I went to the
store a total of... 15 times. <b>Oy.</b> That’s almost 4 times a week, and sometimes I
even went twice on the same day!
Obviously this is something I need to be more aware of…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anyway, I’m going to keep updating this every month to hold
myself accountable, and hopefully be a <i>wee</i>
bit of a braggart when I get things more under control!</span><o:p></o:p></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-1642794209491900632012-03-07T20:30:00.000-08:002012-03-07T20:34:31.998-08:00What's Done is Done...<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A couple of weeks ago, I worked Monday and Tuesday and then
had an entire week off because of a holiday and the family I work for having
visitors. As the days passed, I found
myself with less and less to occupy my time with, and I’m sorry to say I turned
to a <b>dark</b> place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Friends had been trying to convince me to <i>just give it a try</i>;
it might spark my creativity or help me get through <u>long</u> days of boredom. I tried to stay away because I knew what a
slippery slope these things can be.
Finally, even my husband asked me why I wouldn’t just give it a shot,
and I gave in: <b><u><i>I signed up for
<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/">Pinterest</a>.</i></u></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Needless to say, I am now a converted <b>addict</b>, and it has
indeed sparked my creativity in many areas, from working out to cooking to
filling my free time. One of the first
things I saw on there was a crochet pattern for a scarf, and I used to crochet when
I was a kid, so I called up my mom and asked her to send my old hook and some
yarn, and <u>off I went</u>!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Considering the only projects I made as a kid were blankets
that gradually shrunk to half their size by the time I finished, like this<b>
\ /</b> , I’m pretty happy with the way it
turned out. I found the original pattern
<a href="http://www.eatingoutloud.com/2010/11/bumpy-popcorn-crochet-scarf-patter.html">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2cjN5pgR9JAKiPmaxm3LcDn5Nx1b8-hV9OoTMXt9J5nskCaNdxqckMf1JIf8uC67rduaHKTD4_qtR_LaOJNEfA9dop2uIDwqpeuta5hmy3wC7BeTOppmDpwmQfGXnlmclGSMF0tL91Dr/s1600/IMG_0291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2cjN5pgR9JAKiPmaxm3LcDn5Nx1b8-hV9OoTMXt9J5nskCaNdxqckMf1JIf8uC67rduaHKTD4_qtR_LaOJNEfA9dop2uIDwqpeuta5hmy3wC7BeTOppmDpwmQfGXnlmclGSMF0tL91Dr/s320/IMG_0291.JPG" width="238" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUe4yocmGU9cMFjbfrk7C-JGx2Ajh8NpSpwEYOFlUA3RYVZDlPu_jVFSvQqYtslo-0OX-N2GIjq6elGF3P4_WTt_-CO_A0mAcM4m3tmDHculi9XtU6N3ix2l5gBJJYeyZ9xXW19JqsdLj_/s1600/IMG_0293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUe4yocmGU9cMFjbfrk7C-JGx2Ajh8NpSpwEYOFlUA3RYVZDlPu_jVFSvQqYtslo-0OX-N2GIjq6elGF3P4_WTt_-CO_A0mAcM4m3tmDHculi9XtU6N3ix2l5gBJJYeyZ9xXW19JqsdLj_/s320/IMG_0293.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A couple of things I’d do differently:</span></div>
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<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span>Count more carefully. Some of the “bumps” ended up in funny places
because I didn’t pay a ton of attention as I counted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span>Use a softer yarn. I was so excited to get started that I didn’t
even consider this, and now I get slightly <i>itchy</i> wearing this…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">3.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span>Try a different color. I did white because it’s safe and goes with
everything, but I’m somewhat of a <u>color monster</u>, and I think I would have liked
something more… well… colorful!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">By the way, I <b>know</b> posting this makes me a complete nerd,
and also that spring has (unofficially) sprung and I’m out of season. But I was excited to create something like
this, so I’m sharing anyway! Not bad for
the first time in 10ish years, right?
RIGHT??? :)</span><o:p></o:p></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-27326532110393844622012-02-23T23:46:00.001-08:002012-02-23T23:47:37.239-08:00Why Yes, You Do Want to be a Part of This<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span id="internal-source-marker_0.5768784495690593" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">As
I was driving home from work today, I was thinking about <u>life.</u> I know
that you are scared to read on now because
you’re worried this post will be <b>heavy</b> and you just wanted some light reading
material in between pinning and tweeting and posting and all that other
nonsense. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But
you’re in luck! This is simply a sharing post that will not require
you in any way to change your life or even consider a new thought unless you so choose. <i>Hoorah!</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">So my wandering mind asked me this today: What have you learned about being an adult
since graduating college and getting married and paying bills and
researching insurance and learning to cook and... well, you get the
idea.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">One
thing I have learned is the regrettable reality that are utility bills.
Every other bill comes faithfully and I know how much it will be and
it has been budgeted for and I wave sadly as the money floats away.
Utility bills, however, are much <u>sneakier</u> than your average bill. They
hide around in the mild fall and spring months, and then summer or
winter comes and <b>BAM! POW!</b> and all those other words that belong in a spiky bubble, they got
you again. When I was in college, it was a common sight for people to
have their apartment windows wide open in January (yes, in Chicago)
because the heat was unbearable and we didn’t have to pay the bill, so
<i>who cares</i>? Those days are sadly behind me, as I have been duped by the
utility monster many times now. In case you were wondering, I believe
he looks something like this:</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.liquidmatrix.org/blog/wp-content/uploads/2007/11/villain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.liquidmatrix.org/blog/wp-content/uploads/2007/11/villain.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Another
thing I have learned is that it is hard to make friends after college.
<u>Holy cow</u> is it hard. I am used to living in community, being able to
call up several classmates to "study" with, trotting along to say hello to
a friend, or running into people at the Starbucks across the street.
But now I live with a <b>boy</b> (cue scary music). And said boy and myself live in an apartment
where our neighbors don’t pop in for chats or invite us over for their
Christmas Cookie Exchange. We have to be <i>intentional</i>, and guess
what I learned about myself? I’m no good at that! Ha! (That was
sarcastic, I did <u>not</u> really laugh.) And for you meanies who just
thought to yourself that I’m simply socially inept, you are wrong I tell
you! Almost every single one of my friends has expressed this exact
same feeling. It’s sad, yo.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The
last deep meaningful discovery I wish to impart this evening is that
all those grown-up, responsible events and such haven’t actually changed
me. It’s like the eve of your twelfth birthday when you’re <b>so sure</b>
that your life is about to change tomorrow because you’re going to
finally be a <i>teenager</i>, whoa x 3. But then you go through the whole day
and at the end of it your mom asks if you feel any different, and you
<u>don’t</u>. I still want to have dance parties and bake inappropriate
cupcakes and sing at the top of my lungs and twist my face into every
possible emotion. See small sample here:</span></div>
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<a href="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/399822_10150646200492306_517032305_11822058_567795103_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/399822_10150646200492306_517032305_11822058_567795103_n.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">It’s just that while I sing, I also have to write a check. And while I dance around my living room, I sometimes have to
shut the blinds because now I have neighbors who do not appreciate the <u>
art</u> in my moves. But unlike that <b>birthday-party-letdown</b> feeling, I am
quite ok with it. I was awfully worried I was going to have to
carry a briefcase and spout investment knowledge, or <i>not</i> laugh when
someone farts. (Is this even possible? Do older people just somehow
hide their giggles from us?)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The
moral of the story is this: Fear not, my friends. Growing up, though
not all fun and games, totally can be if you want it to be. It’s just not quite as scary as it seemed. *whew*</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">{<a href="http://www.liquidmatrix.org/blog/wp-content/uploads/2007/11/villain.jpg">Photo Source</a>}</span></span></div>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-45869373991225859692012-02-18T20:01:00.000-08:002012-02-18T20:02:04.166-08:00Taking a Deep Breath<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuqzJ3sDhHM1Sb48PPyd9begyAitFxcp_VgLNKXb55PO3uj8Rze8_2hY74fMvFl42UPqJoT28jLN3Xc1iBywjX-mWqHkcBSHzsYxDaDknIjVNb7IX1COzKGAwwAH9xwGwnSSII7QEgDfNE/s1600/debt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuqzJ3sDhHM1Sb48PPyd9begyAitFxcp_VgLNKXb55PO3uj8Rze8_2hY74fMvFl42UPqJoT28jLN3Xc1iBywjX-mWqHkcBSHzsYxDaDknIjVNb7IX1COzKGAwwAH9xwGwnSSII7QEgDfNE/s400/debt.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></b><br />
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5530990506522357"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Remember in <a href="http://werealluntamed.blogspot.com/2012/01/good-bad-and-silver-lining.html">this post</a> when I briefly mentioned that I think God has been blessing all of our hard work and financial stewardship? <u>I had no idea what I was talking about.</u></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Since that post, we have literally been overwhelmed by various things that keep popping up and providing us with more income than we know what to do with. (Okay, that is a complete lie. I can </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">always </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">find something to do with extra income!) It has come in the form of tax returns, random gifts of money or gift cards, extra vacation days discovered, and the list goes on.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I want to to share over the coming weeks what we are able to do with our excess. Some of it comes in the practical form of finally getting our car registered as an Oregonian and paying off our next 6 months of car insurance that is due next month.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But the one I’m </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">most</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> excited about so far is that we were finally able to pay off our first student loan!!!!!! (Oh, and let me just add an <i>extra</i> !!!! for emphasis). I feel incredibly blessed to be able to accomplish this only a few months after we started tackling these suckers, and even though we have a <u>Long</u> (yes, with a capital L. I don’t want to talk about it.) way to go, I am celebrating this small success that feels like a big one! We have calculated how long it should take us to pay off these loans individually, and this one wasn’t supposed to be paid off until April, so I’m over the moon that we got to </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">make it go away</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> 2 months early. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">However, even though we sometimes feel buried under our mountain of debt, I want to be really intentional about making sure we’re still giving back as we’re able. I have tithed 10% to the church for as long as I can remember, and in college I also started a mini-hospitality fund that I use anytime I come across a personal situation I want to be able to help out with. This has helped send friends on mission trips and give anonymously to people who need it. But this recent flood of abundance has really been nudging me for something a little <i>deeper</i>.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I’m really excited to tell you that my hubs and I are going to start building an additional act of giving into the budget each month that will allow us to give to a global cause we feel called to support. What I love about being able to do this is that we already give locally to people we meet and the church/community we live in, but we can also do some research on things that are happening around the world and give where we find something we want to support.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anyway, <a href="http://werealluntamed.blogspot.com/2011/10/road-trip.html">I invited you</a> on this journey of rising out of debt, and I feel like we reached our first rest stop along the way. We have some other fun (and smart) things planned for the rest of the money, and I'll be sharing as always!</span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">{<a href="http://weheartit.com/from/thinkmestrange.tumblr.com">Photo source</a>}</span></span></b>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-42972973477909648492012-02-13T23:06:00.000-08:002012-02-15T15:13:39.745-08:00A Love Letter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/284352_230003527040268_129696440404311_735340_8076734_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/284352_230003527040268_129696440404311_735340_8076734_n.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.2508424688130617"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To my husband,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">First, there was a boy. That’s really all he was, though he pretended to be a man. He was goofy and I felt unattractive and he was the first boy to ever pay attention to me and make me feel special. I didn’t love him and though I put in a valiant effort trying to convince my adolescent self I did, I knew better even then. Because he made me feel special, I allowed more than I should have and spent a year and a half in a sad relationship where I hated myself and didn’t really care. Strike one.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then came another fling, though it lasted nine months. After the oppressiveness of the last, he at least allowed me to be free. But he was free with everyone he knew, boys and girls alike, and I spent a lot of time familiarizing myself with the bitter taste of jealousy. Strike two.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Next, my love, I’m sorry to say I lost my head. I was feeling uninspired academically, and along came someone who could challenge me and really make me think. He wasn’t even a Christian, which I always said I was so against, but I was stuck in the cycle of needing attention and looking for it in the wrong places. He was my first shot at a more mature love, and it was a failed attempt, doomed from the beginning. Strike three.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then I got my first taste, no, a feast really, of heartbreak. I fell deep and hard and understood every love song ever written. I dreamed of marriage and children and a future. Instead, I found out I was unwanted and easy to tire of. Strike four, if there is such a thing.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were useless dates with bartenders, silly long-distance attempts, strikes five, six, etc. I lost count and gave up. I was tired of myself, tired of asking God why I couldn’t get it right, and most certainly tired of boys parading as men. I was numb and empty and just.plain.done.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And then there was you.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You rushed in when I didn’t want you to, insisting you knew we were meant to be together, you had prayed about it and </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">knew</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I laughed at you and told you I needed time just to make you go away. You stayed and said you would wait. I said you didn’t want to be with me, I seemed great but the novelty faded quickly, you assured me it wouldn’t. I pushed you away and you let me, but you never left. I remember so well sitting in my dorm room messaging you (on AIM of course), reading your words as you told me I was it. The One. I remember leaning back in my chair and staring at the screen, wondering about this crazy boy who wouldn’t leave me alone and made ridiculous claims about a God I had lost touch with.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I told my friends you were boring and funny looking and I was far from interested. You surprised me by having a hidden sense of humor that you reserved just for me. You made me laugh again after thinking I never would. Slowly, I told you about my heartbreak and why I could never trust anyone again, and you just smiled, knowing I would someday place every fiber of my being in your hands.
</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I gave in. I told my family about this crazy boy that I was bringing home for a few days because he just would NOT give up about meeting my family. I met your family, who welcomed me as one of them, even when we were absolutely not dating and just friends and nothing more thankyouverymuch. I kept waiting for you to get tired of me, to say it was nice getting to know me, but you were sick of waiting. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Instead, you began your work on me. You began re-introducing me to the God who would eventually tell us both on a lonely night not long after we made it “official” that He had already given us our future spouse. You showed me that it’s possible to find a man who cared for me enough to keep me pure until our wedding night. You showed me what it feels like to be loved so deeply that jealously became a foreign concept. You challenged me and promised I would never know heartbreak again. And ever so slowly, I began to feel hope.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You rescued me. Do you know that? Have I ever told you? I was so much more lost than I let on, and only you knew how to reach me, and you’ve been doing it ever since. Every day, I learn about a new flaw in myself, and every day, you find a way to patch it up.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I thought God had given up on me. Sure, I knew He was still around looking out for me, but when it came to relationships, I was on my own. It was the one area in my life where I had refused to listen to Him time and time again, and I was finally reaping what I had sowed. I deserved every heartache I felt, and then some. But instead of leaving me to suffer, He gave me you. He didn’t even give me time to understand just how utterly I had failed Him before presenting you to me.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was so good at being the good girl in every area of my life except that one, and that’s the area that God chose to redeem. When God told me almost four years ago that you were a gift I would have the rest of my life, He wasn’t kidding. And today, on a day celebrated by expensive flowers and fattening chocolate and cheesy cards, I wanted to tell you again why I love you so much (and the whole virtual world, while I'm at it).</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You rescued me then, you’re rescuing me now, and I know you’ll keep right on rescuing me with that same persistence that so annoyed me when I first met you. Thank you. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I love you 1,000 times more than these words even begin to convey. Happy Valentine’s Day my love.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yours,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kaitlyn</span></b>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-58097652544684842442012-02-09T10:05:00.000-08:002012-02-09T10:05:20.417-08:00Pizza Mishaps<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/61230_151438074896814_129696440404311_247631_6092335_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/61230_151438074896814_129696440404311_247631_6092335_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.20604464528150856"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anyone who has ever been in love knows there are moments where you just</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> know </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">it's the real deal. Here’s one of mine back when my hub hub and I were dating.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some context, please. For as long as I can remember, I have had a very weird relationship with food. I am (was?) incredibly picky, and it’s something I </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">hate</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> talking about even know. I have dealt with so many jabs and snide comments about my eating habits that I lost count years and years ago. Why not just force myself to eat more variety, you ask? Fabulous question, and here’s your fabulous answer: </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I couldn’t</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. For some reason, my gag reflex is triggered very easily, and it’s somewhat unpredictable. Sometimes it’s the smell that gets me, other times it’s the texture, or most often, the taste. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The worst part is that there’s no reason or rhyme to it. I don’t like tomatoes, but I’ll dip my fries in ketchup any day. I don’t like sour cream and onions are my </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">mortal enemy</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, but I love sour cream and onion potato chips. Just shrug along with me friends, I don’t get it either.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This makes me hard to cook for, and I’ve turned down many a dinner invitation for fear of the menu. I feel embarrassed and </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ashamed </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">every time I have to ask someone what’s in a dish. I’ve gotten angry, lied about not being hungry, and cried over it later. Psychologists do your thing, because something about this whole issue goes deep emotionally for me.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So here I was with my soon-to-be hubnub, out to pizza with my grandma and aunts visiting from out of town. We were at Gino’s East, about to devour what can only be known as the best pizza </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">on the planet</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I greedily snatched my piece onto my plate and began scraping off the large chunks of tomato so I could get to the</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> gooey</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> cheese and perfectly spiced pepperoni underneath. As I scraped, the dreaded barb came:</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Mitch, I’m not sure how you do it. Isn’t that </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">embarrassing</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to you?”</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I felt the shame flood my body as I cautiously turned my eyes to my knight, who responded:</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I don’t find it embarrassing at all. It’s just who she is.”</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I reflect on this now, almost 2 years later, it’s really </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">so</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> indicative of who we are as a couple. No, he didn’t come up with some romantic swoon-worthy answer, but instead quietly defended me and protected me at my most vulnerable. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Though I complain sometimes about his lack of romance, he is the most </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">solid</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">steady</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">loyal </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">man I have ever met. And this was one of the moments, no matter how insignificant it may seem, where I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this man could care for me the rest of my life. </span></span></b>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-36654536691819822792012-02-06T20:50:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:39:12.014-08:00Upcoming...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.20604464528150856"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By now, the whole world knows about the </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">crazy</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> women who consider clipping coupons their full-time job and will</span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> haunt </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">your dreams if you ring up their purchase without their full $308 discount. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am at a crossroads with these shows and these women. One part of me is </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">totally</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> disgusted by these women, their stockpiles, and their psycho attitudes. The other part of me is slightly jealous that they save so much while still providing their family with (mostly) healthy meals.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am not one of those women. I just </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">can’t</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> be that mean to those poor checkout ladies, and I don’t have the time to spend cutting coupons all day (doesn’t their hand get tired from those scissors??). </span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">BUT!</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Last month, we spent an </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">obscene</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> amount on groceries. I don’t really know how it happened, but at the end of the month, we were eating stale bread and almost-black bananas, because we had no money left in the grocery fund. As much as we love that whole </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“we don’t have money but we’re living on love”</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> thing, we also like to eat real food instead of pasta 4 days in a row.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So I am trying to be much more intentional about how much I spend on groceries, following the </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">less-crazy</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> but still savvy shopper’s advice about making meal plans and planning food based on what’s on sale that week. I want to update you at the end of each month, and I am already crazy excited about the progress I’ve made this month!</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ALSO!</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I just signed up for this great <a href="http://mediacenter.tyndale.com/X_TBN/6_Join_Network/Join.asp">program</a> that allows bloggers to request </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">free</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> books as long as they agree to post a review about it. Those of you who know me well know I am a book-devouring fiend with no mercy for those beautiful white pages, so needless to say, expect some reviews on some great (or not) books!</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s all for now, but I have forced you have to come back by enticing you with wonderful promises of saving money and reading good books. Even the best of you can’t resist such delicacies, so I’ll see you again soon!*</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*I won’t really see you, because this is only a computer. Silly reader!</span></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">{<a href="http://notacouponqueen.wordpress.com/2011/01/13/crazy-coupon-ladies-and-men-not-me-not-ever/">Photo source</a>}</span></span>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-28964686649859164092012-02-03T17:59:00.000-08:002012-02-03T17:59:38.065-08:00Welcome to My Kingdom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/22331146/tumblr_lxu77siNFy1qic91bo1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/22331146/tumblr_lxu77siNFy1qic91bo1_500_large.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.196934794774279"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have been feeling </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">vastly</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> uninspired by pretty much everything lately. I’m not sure if it’s just a case of the winter blues or if my burned-out-ness (don’t judge me) is rearing its <u>nasty</u> little head. Either way, I’ve been wanting to write even when I do feel like the <i>Queen of Blahs</i>, and I saw <a href="http://www.thewiegands.com/2012/02/coffee-date.html">this wonderful post</a> which did, in fact, inspire me. You should thank this person, though I have no idea who she is.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If I could, I would most definitely take each and every one of you lovely people reading this blog out to coffee. We could chat about life and where we’re at and laugh and just be together. </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I would like that very much.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But since many of you who read this live <u>far</u> far away from the great state of Oregon, here’s what would happen if we could.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We would go to any number of trendy hipster coffee shops downtown, and make small talk as we perused the menu, deciding between coffee or hot chocolate or my signature drink, the </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">chocolate chai</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Maybe we’d decide to share a scone or maybe we’d both agree we didn’t <i>really</i> need it.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We’d gather our drinks and make our way to a quieter table in the back, where after settling in, we could really chat it up. I’d ask how <u>you</u>’ve been doing, how you’re enjoying things and what you’re looking forward to. Then I’d tell you that things are just ok in my neck of the woods, that I get kind of lonely sometimes and don’t love my job. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If we were <i>really</i> close, I might confess that in reality, my nights of sleepless anxiety about my job have returned for no known reason, and it’s wreaking a </span><span style="font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">small</span></span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> amount of havoc on my life (is there ever really a small amount of havoc??). I might tell you that it’s been really hard because we don’t have many friends, and after being so close to so many people in college, we are going through </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">withdrawal like woah</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But then I’d put a positive spin on it, because I’d <u>hate</u> to leave you feeling sad or sorry for me. I’d tell you that our finances are going well and we’re hoping to even have enough to escape somewhere for a weekend. I’d tell you that I’m excited to go visit my sister and meet my </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">new niece</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> next month, and that the weather has been so nice lately, how could I <i>possibly</i> be sad?</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No matter what, I’d leave feeling better and </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">glad</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to know you, and to know you care about my life enough to meet with me (or read my blog, see how I did that??). I’d thank you just for being my friend and leave with a smile on my face, <u>for sure</u>. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So thanks, everyone. And when my life has something exciting enough happen to write about it, I <i>promise</i> you’ll be the first one to know. :)</span></span></b>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4565350594079777236.post-29821838990265219102012-01-25T18:33:00.000-08:002012-01-25T18:42:59.706-08:00This Broken Path<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/21768445/tumblr_ly5fjnEqrB1rn9u0oo1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/21768445/tumblr_ly5fjnEqrB1rn9u0oo1_500_large.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.5116940210573375"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Blogging about marriage is a </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">tricky, tricky thing</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and here’s why. When you’re married, and </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">especially </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">when you marry young (I’ve never married old, so this is speculation) you want the whole world to think your marriage is </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Perfect</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> with a capital P.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">want</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to tell you about the Saturdays when we stay in bed for an extra hour just chatting and laughing. I </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">want</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to tell you about the time when he let me stay in the car while he ran into the grocery store to satisfy my chocolate craving. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And then I read other newlywed’s blogs full of these types of stories, and throw up in my mouth a little. I roll my eyes and click to something else, </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">secretly</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> calling them liars and </span><span style="font-size: 11px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">silently</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> hoping I’m not the only one who doesn’t make dinner for my husband in heels every day.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The good moments are certainly glorious and worth noting, but </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">it’s not the whole story</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Simply put, marriage is not the solution. Really, no matter </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">what</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the problem is, marriage is not the solution.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You’re lonely? Marriage is not the solution.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You got pregnant? Marriage is not the solution.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You’ve been dating for five years and are bored? Marriage is not the solution.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You’ve always dreamed of a beautiful wedding? Marriage is not the solution.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Am I making my point here? At the risk of hearing all my married friends gasp in </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">horror</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, those beautiful moments I mentioned? They are simply NOT everyday life. And I want to make sure I don’t present them as such.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So here’s something I’ve learned about marriage that is not all unicorns and glitter.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even when you’re married and spend about 93% of your time with another person, sometimes you’ll still feel alone. Forgive me if I sound unforgivingly emo and</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> tragically</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> poetic, but I can literally be sitting in the same room as Sir Huzz and still feel sad/depressed/just.plain.lonely.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And the truth is, there is something </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">beautiful</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> in that, though I can’t put my finger on it yet. I <i>know</i> that loneliness is leading me to Someone else who can fill that slowly leaking hole, but I haven’t mastered the </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">path</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to get there.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Because somehow, for me at least, </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the path changed</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a little </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">when I got married. My relationship with God is no longer between just Him and I, but with a third person thrown in. And to be perfectly honest, I’m not always sure how I feel about that. I’m not sure when I should just </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">relish</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the tiny second when I felt God’s presence today, or if I should share it as an encouragement. I have trouble knowing when to pray with my love and solidify our foundation, and when to pray by myself so I can beat my chest in fear and desperation with </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">no worry</span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> about who is listening. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am trying to figure it all out, and someday this will (not) make a great party story. But in the meantime, I am trying to remember that it’s ok when it’s not always easy, and that God will meet me anyway, even if I do take the wrong path. </span></span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">P.S. For those of you who are savvy detail-oriented people, I said in my last post that I would talk more about finances, but I didn't like what I wrote. So I deleted it, and you got this instead. I can be ruthless like that sometimes.</span></span></b>Kaitlyn Winnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01349681951549227407noreply@blogger.com0