tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19724244919062507552024-03-05T07:22:14.691+00:00dear future me...dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-16872054883990585922013-10-09T09:44:00.000+01:002013-10-09T09:44:26.772+01:00[the baker in me - pt 2...]<div style="text-align: center;">
Preface: I must preface this post by saying two things. 1). There are no pictures in this post. Blogging crime. You could go check out <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/search/pins/?q=poo">pinterest</a> or <a href="https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=poo&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=lRVVUp3gDIP-iAfSqoDwBQ&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAQ&biw=1366&bih=667&dpr=1#q=reverendfun.com&spell=1&tbm=isch">google images</a> if you need pictures though - I even linked you in and got you started. Kind. 2). This post has been sitting waiting to be published for a couple of months. I'm a bit 'off' blogging at the moment but last night my friend told me she enjoyed my writing and she liked part one of this story so this is for her. Her blog is <a href="http://hope4racure.blogspot.co.nz/">here</a> - she is amazing and you'd be privileged to nerd it up with her playing board games every Tuesday like me. End (way too long) preface.<br />
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Dear future baker (ha and ha),</div>
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Back by popular demand (read: no one asked), part two of the great baking saga of my life. <a href="http://dearfuturemeblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/04/the-baker-in-me-part-one.html">Part one </a> left us with a completely eaten but not exactly... shall we say... appreciated pancake cake, made by yours truly.</div>
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I had a break from baking for, uh six months or so and then I ventured gently back into the kitchen with <a href="http://www.paisleyjade.com/2013/03/coconut-iced-chocolate-slice-no-bake.html">Paisley-Jades Coconut Iced Chocolate Slice (no bake)</a> (amazing - you should totally give it a go.) I very bravely took my slice to work, put it on the table and added a super welcoming sign saying 'Help yourselves!' It was a night shift, and it goes without saying that night shift equals eating fest. The classic four am sugar low means I've seen nurses eat five day old brownie, mandarins, chip crumbs - whatever is on offer.</div>
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No one ate a single piece.</div>
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No. One.</div>
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I actually laughed out loud when I went in to check on my progress. <br />
Five times.</div>
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So morning comes and slice goes back home with me.</div>
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Boooooo.</div>
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Anyway, don't feel sorry for me because here comes the lesson. There's always a lesson. Is there? I don't know but that's what they say on fancy-pants blogs. Anyway, this time there was a happy ending.</div>
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So I'm tired out of my head after the night duty and waiting at the bus stop for my bus, there is some kind of altercation taking place. A tall man on crutches is asking a male nurse for a smoke. Male nurse is refusing, tall is arguing - so on and so forth. Male nurse is edging away, tall guy comes over to where I'm sitting. His question to me is whether it is fair that male nurse refuses him a smoke. I say that I agree with male nurse - he doesn't have a<i> right </i>to someone elses smokes. I say that people work hard for their money, and it isn't fair to <i>expect</i> someone to give you something they've worked hard for. </div>
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See? Lessons. I am so a fancy-pants blogger.</div>
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Tall guy asks me for a smoke - I tell him I don't smoke and in fact I think it's gross and bad for you. But I can give him some of my slice? (See, it does tie in - I'm not just rambling!) I tell him it's not great for you either but better than cigarettes and that I would be happy to offer him some, even though I worked hard for my money. I had a paper towel in the container (for my work colleagues to use for their slice - sob) so I gave him a few pieces.</div>
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Tall guy was so happy! He seemed to forget all about his smoke issue, which wasn't surprising given his next issue was that he had no money for the bus. Awkward. So bus driver lets him on anyway, and Tall Guy follows me to the back of the bus. We sit together, merrily chatting about life, love and all things cake.</div>
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By the way, male nurse has completely abandoned me into the loving arms of Tall Guy - even though I'm pretty sure I saved his life. (Murse was going do-wn!) Lesson #2 - don't expect anything in return for saving lives with cake.</div>
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Suddenly, my new friend TG (we're now on a nick-name basis you see) has a revelation. He's realised that by giving him the cake, I stopped him from smoking. He believes that while good for his lungs but not great for his hips, this cake means that he caught the bus which he would otherwise have missed because he'd have been smoking. Also, the driver who would have been driving the next bus may not have been so kind as to let him on. And what would he have done if the driver had declined him? He'd have asked more and more people for more and more smokes and been more and more unhealthy and also still not been HOME.<br />
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Me and TG had revelations that day - his was that cake is better than cigarettes both physically, and metaphorically.<br />
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Mine was that things are not always as they seem. Sometimes a tall man on crutches needs your cake more than twenty nurses at four a.m. <br />
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Metaphorically speaking, that is.<br />
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Learn that.<br />
Love, never-judge-a-tall-book-by-its-angry-cover-me.<br />
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-52463853447853066322013-07-02T09:59:00.000+01:002013-07-02T09:59:13.527+01:00[the great return...]<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Dear future bore,</div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRAmAANd1OMBQ_YbzbgJHuhfCK1ZXxdpFvLk9Fsc2kQHRAV3xj_oPKjoXOAwElk1GCP7dE3SK5BW7zVZuuFWHD8N5S7deQI-ZDCW7JP5HXr9mX1mwmU_lyodCmR4pQMyy7XeuDxt6IuErA/s900/waipu4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRAmAANd1OMBQ_YbzbgJHuhfCK1ZXxdpFvLk9Fsc2kQHRAV3xj_oPKjoXOAwElk1GCP7dE3SK5BW7zVZuuFWHD8N5S7deQI-ZDCW7JP5HXr9mX1mwmU_lyodCmR4pQMyy7XeuDxt6IuErA/s640/waipu4.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9DMql5RZI1_Q-QJVbHjyEVYaF8I68ejVr0YK098SB3nVVASXy2_8m8C6kvO7QtMTw4eaKPDZmF8eO7VqSrODkVpIJQp-G_YU6QaUPkbAkeUH1ShVZWxXpBdhUNk8Q53fQsiDJ3nLbqj-b/s900/waipu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9DMql5RZI1_Q-QJVbHjyEVYaF8I68ejVr0YK098SB3nVVASXy2_8m8C6kvO7QtMTw4eaKPDZmF8eO7VqSrODkVpIJQp-G_YU6QaUPkbAkeUH1ShVZWxXpBdhUNk8Q53fQsiDJ3nLbqj-b/s640/waipu.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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We went home.</div>
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After living in London for almost two years, we went back to our home town where we haven't lived for five years. Our home town is pretty small and kind of rough, if I'm allowed to be honest. Being away was amazing - life changing even, but it made us realise how we love that rough town we call home. We missed the scenery - rolling hills, water for miles, green - so much green. We missed the lifestyle - barbecues in all seasons, fresh fish and family.</div>
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So we went home. It has been hard and special, and emotional and exhilirating.</div>
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More on that later, future me. Meantime - don't forget to relish the journey.</div>
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xx Enjoying the ride.</div>
dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-50793242968617902782013-04-29T20:09:00.000+01:002013-04-29T20:09:28.007+01:00[love letter...]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b>#22 - Write a love letter to my husband.</b></div>
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">See my bucket list <a href="http://dearfuturemeblog.blogspot.co.uk/p/bucket-list_06.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;">here</a>.</i></div>
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<b>WARNING:</b></div>
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Gag fest ensues. </div>
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<i>I can't help it - it's an anniversary post. Never fear, there is a fart joke in there to lower the tone a bit. You're welcome. </i> </div>
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Dear future husband,</div>
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(Just to clarify; I'm thinking same husband, just in the future.)</div>
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Today is our six year wedding anniversary. The last year has certainly been our most adventurous and our most loving yet. I can only assume it continues to get better from here.</div>
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Today walking home from the bus, we were holding hands and you looked into my eyes and kissed my hand. <i>It's moments like those I feel the sweetness of us.</i> You took not three steps and I heard what can only be described as a fog horn in the mist. Surprised, you looked behind you as if you might see the ship the fog horn belonged to appear.* <i> It's moments like those I feel the laughter of us.</i> </div>
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It sums us up really - we park long enough in the garage of romance to remember and remind ourselves we are sweet, loving and kind. But we spend the majority of our time navigating the roads of life with laughter and silliness and friendship - and it's here I find my greatest happiness.</div>
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Last night we were in Croatia, eating al fresco as the sun went down over the mediterranean and you toasted our six years and hoped for sixty more. I hope we have sixty more too, but lets make each year count - I know there are people who would do anything for just one more day. Let's not forget we are the lucky ones.</div>
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Lovingly and fartingly yours,</div>
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Your wife and friend. xx</div>
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*Suffice to say there was no ship.</div>
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-49395319583431026402013-04-27T18:00:00.000+01:002013-04-27T18:00:03.823+01:00[small things...]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Joining in with Meghan at MNMs for 'Things I'm Lovin'. The instagram edition. Life lately has been about waiting, watching, holding space, biding time. Good time to appreciate the small things...</div>
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<a href="http://meghanandmark.blogspot.co.nz/search/label/Things%20Im%20Loving"><img height="160" src="http://i1198.photobucket.com/albums/aa455/meghankf/Buttons/ThingsImLoving.png " width="160" /></a></center>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 20px; text-align: start;"><i>I wholeheartedly believe that no matter what is happening in your life, there is always something you can be thankful for..no matter how simple it is.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzSIKYlv7NxYe1pm8BVK8f3pbp073LEX04annx4qG_xFWOsSiCx5JBPaariT3BRB8bnCVBLVkFNLEL3QrYO-c5qPSDFBo9XhRd38TNf7iTHw3bM3oeVQfxAnf8XjMvoPjmDYEJQZ4gfNdB/s1600/IMG_20130329_105830.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzSIKYlv7NxYe1pm8BVK8f3pbp073LEX04annx4qG_xFWOsSiCx5JBPaariT3BRB8bnCVBLVkFNLEL3QrYO-c5qPSDFBo9XhRd38TNf7iTHw3bM3oeVQfxAnf8XjMvoPjmDYEJQZ4gfNdB/s400/IMG_20130329_105830.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Geek love... </b>We brought some new sleeping bags for our road trip in a few weeks. We made sure to buy square ones so we could make a double-up and we slept in it that night to try it out. Geek love.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufzYN26MkhwhCMQoramK5TVbSYoQgFbEgxVxOHNnzfcthjRclALx5qGfjuWKiWc0aZoARnJPrVi-E2aRxumoH24r9EO57OhJwBAVO4k5uzbQ0GjUeB-0qU83gSsmyGBhaTD6ZBYSC3xw6/s1600/IMG_20130404_214411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufzYN26MkhwhCMQoramK5TVbSYoQgFbEgxVxOHNnzfcthjRclALx5qGfjuWKiWc0aZoARnJPrVi-E2aRxumoH24r9EO57OhJwBAVO4k5uzbQ0GjUeB-0qU83gSsmyGBhaTD6ZBYSC3xw6/s400/IMG_20130404_214411.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Famous girl love... </b>I was on British TV for the second time. The first time I was in the audience for Deal or no Deal. This time, the BBC filmed a documentary in the NHS, including in my unit. Do I look good in faded red scrubs?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnAMnvWYvRqUXLXA2wkPVQdBHOUsPNs3mO6JSgke5v30SL9LPXqEU3lhpfnKsaH6kxwiqj4aCkDE5FDWXdCDpeGnFLL2LPP25VFsK6-oYH18xt0OZX6-SlEnI6rl5lxeirZes6GxWLJiv/s1600/IMG_20130406_135754.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnAMnvWYvRqUXLXA2wkPVQdBHOUsPNs3mO6JSgke5v30SL9LPXqEU3lhpfnKsaH6kxwiqj4aCkDE5FDWXdCDpeGnFLL2LPP25VFsK6-oYH18xt0OZX6-SlEnI6rl5lxeirZes6GxWLJiv/s400/IMG_20130406_135754.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Odd light love... </b>This odd light came in my window and made strange shadows on my bed. I heard them call it 'the sun?'</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJuZfzz8MLV7u0sisY8b9ZV04Wsv37kq_7PcSS8bVUQQGa1LcVWrBRQzsU-P8XLUAQtgKh8pjqyPnjKYCkOCrGnRSx21OAUjO6IfRnOoFelY_gN-9Wc47GK27VoBQQVY9nfMWzcwqXwYXj/s1600/IMG_20130412_160516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJuZfzz8MLV7u0sisY8b9ZV04Wsv37kq_7PcSS8bVUQQGa1LcVWrBRQzsU-P8XLUAQtgKh8pjqyPnjKYCkOCrGnRSx21OAUjO6IfRnOoFelY_gN-9Wc47GK27VoBQQVY9nfMWzcwqXwYXj/s400/IMG_20130412_160516.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Weird birds love... </b>Two weird seagulls went crazy outside our window at work. We are on the sixth floor, and these birds were squawking and pecking, trying to get in to the babies. Creepers.</div>
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<b>Pepper-free sandwich love... </b>I hate pepper. So much. Always, always, always there is pepper on sandwiches, until I found this one at Pumpkin Cafe at the train station. So happy!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVbNh-AsNvMOzjRLqGjUR8-7Cnav39ZoGdybqLa-SfWqMA1NlRe0d0559YGKkHuZAbcpZlASWGTnlFSOyKFrTNo-1H-ml-19zuNXO6ON9-igJzMHT3oQjPUhHpbfc1denCGgJzlmmilqLj/s1600/IMG_20130413_100730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVbNh-AsNvMOzjRLqGjUR8-7Cnav39ZoGdybqLa-SfWqMA1NlRe0d0559YGKkHuZAbcpZlASWGTnlFSOyKFrTNo-1H-ml-19zuNXO6ON9-igJzMHT3oQjPUhHpbfc1denCGgJzlmmilqLj/s400/IMG_20130413_100730.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Baby love... </b>The husbo had to go away for work, and I went with him. Some friends were up there too (he works for the same company) and we stayed in the same hotel. They have a new baby, Edward, and I looked after him while his deserving Mama had a pedicure. Cute!<br />
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Plenty of things to be thankful for this week!</div>
dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-31411030696653254482013-04-24T20:32:00.001+01:002013-04-24T20:32:17.314+01:00[monday memorandum...]<div style="text-align: center;">
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Just a few thoughts to make your week interesting for a Monday. Ha.<br />
(Wait, it's Wednesday now. Oh well.)<br />
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<b>: : I turn 30 in two days... </b>Cripes alive. My present phobic husband has brought me a special treat and I can't wait to see what it is (<i>read: I already know because I chose it. I'm no fool</i>). Also I'm going to Gordon Ramsay's restaurant for an early dinner, and to a west end show. Ah am sow London, innit?<br />
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<b>: : Birthday trip...</b> Also we are going to Croatia for a few days at the weekend. We had to plan to be back in time in case I got these QI tickets I applied for and was certain I would get (since it's my birthday and our anniversary, although it never asked for that info on the questionnaire - I just assumed they'd know?) But I never heard from them (yet) so I assume we'll have to do something romantic on our anniversary instead. Sigh.<br />
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<b>: : Three weeks of work left... </b>I work in a really lovely unit, but I am super glad to be done with work in a few weeks. Most of our pals here work to travel - as in, they work enough to get money (like three months or so) and then travel for a month or so. We never did that though, I've worked right through since we arrived - only taking a two week break when Mum visited. Any ideas for a job I can do when I arrive home that doesn't involve working?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5hlOQntjjkVWQw3UwVRZQraZw81oNrM7ID4zt1GW9DCGitY0hwOc4F0qB8xWa_Wq50hDFhJ9B9nAJQi18TuogOSu10zIySqhGOQZnK0Du6jYhJNZchTQAnsRU2ZuF58TbRpuz2ekX2YFy/s1600/IMG_20130418_071205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5hlOQntjjkVWQw3UwVRZQraZw81oNrM7ID4zt1GW9DCGitY0hwOc4F0qB8xWa_Wq50hDFhJ9B9nAJQi18TuogOSu10zIySqhGOQZnK0Du6jYhJNZchTQAnsRU2ZuF58TbRpuz2ekX2YFy/s400/IMG_20130418_071205.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty rad view from my work.</td></tr>
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<b>: : No work... </b>I have emailed two places at home about work, and applied for two jobs and have had NO REPLY from any of them. I'm so surprised because I'm a really good nurse (mostly) and when I was writing my C.V I said to the husby that I look so good on paper, I'd give myself a job without reading the rest of the pile. Nothing like a good old dose of ignoring to pop my over inflated ego.<br />
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<b>: : It was actually sunny... </b>We came to England from New Zealand's winter, into England winter. Then we hit the worst summer England has seen for 100 years (fact according to myself), then the coldest winter for 100 years (fact according to myself but I feel like I've heard it before.) I have never been so pale in all my life (and I am usually like glow in the dark PALE). Lets just say that the bits that see the light of day are the same colour as the bits that don't. BUT this week I have seen shadows for the first time in two years, and I even wore my sunglasses today. Bliss!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHc6yrGDqyW-7vyo_dPfw2fMJGVCdxxAEj7eC7iqWoV_tYy2r5PU11N0YgRzah9gjKFzwpYak8YitwrPQRk4B3gQTCkpaW_xiNnINsDU1eY1IKDPrhWQbqz1KUGh42_tRDMnuL7S1PQEI/s1600/IMG_20130219_140220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHc6yrGDqyW-7vyo_dPfw2fMJGVCdxxAEj7eC7iqWoV_tYy2r5PU11N0YgRzah9gjKFzwpYak8YitwrPQRk4B3gQTCkpaW_xiNnINsDU1eY1IKDPrhWQbqz1KUGh42_tRDMnuL7S1PQEI/s400/IMG_20130219_140220.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By my pad.</td></tr>
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<b>: : Dandruff city... </b>Since coming to England I have been plagued with dandruff problems. (I exaggerate). Don't judge me, I'm a clean girl with usually nice hair which I wash regularly, but the water here is so hard and limescale-y. I digress. This week was particularly diabolical. I switched shampoo from one which shall remain nameless (Tresemee) that was making me get split ends and fly aways. I switched to another one that shall remain nameless (Pantene) that gave me a filmy, greasy feeling. Not to mention I was now looking like I had dropped a packet of dessicated coconut on my head. So I had to go to the hairdresser and ask for some help - she suggested that I wash my hair with dishwashing liquid (no lies - she told me not to tell anyone she said it) and then with some proper hairdresser type shampoo that shall not remain nameless. Kerastase. Kerastase and my hair are now having a love affair made of soft, sweet smelling locks and not a coconut flake in sight. Win.<br />
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<b>: : De-furring... </b>Speaking of hair, today I went to have multiple small hairs ripped from various places on my body. I felt a bit concerned when half way through, beauty lady goes 'so, are we doing your upper lip today?' I say 'ah... nope, wasn't planning on it'. She goes 'oh. long pause. okay'. I'm all like 'lady, I'm almost thirty - a few lip hairs never hurt anyone. I'm embracing my age with grace.' Then I go home and pluck the crap out of that top lip.<br />
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So there you go. I hope your day is more interesting now, and that it wasn't so boring before that a post which is mostly about hairs and weather made it exponentially more interesting. Cos if that's the case, you gotta get a hobby. For reals.<br />
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Love.<br />
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-47737742963217577162013-04-20T22:01:00.000+01:002013-04-20T22:01:04.530+01:00[learning, always learning...]<div style="text-align: center;">
Dear future photographer,</div>
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<b># 9 - Learn to use a DSLR camera.</b></div>
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<i>See my bucket list <a href="http://dearfuturemeblog.blogspot.co.uk/p/bucket-list_06.html">here</a>.</i></div>
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Oh me, oh my. I am turning thirty in five days. Yeesh.</div>
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(Does that make you feel old, Mum? Hehe.)</div>
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Anyhoo, just checking out my list of twenty-nine things I wanted to do before turning thirty. This was a weird one, because I don't know at what point I've 'made it' in the DSLR arena. There are still loads of things I need to learn, and practice. We did a ten week course when we first brought our camera (about two years ago now) which I think gave me a fairly decent foundation.</div>
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BUT I'd still like to feel confident on what I guess is the next level of manual photography - manual focus, metered exposure, changing settings quickly to suit changing light. But I'm pretty happy with my progress up until now. I've taken some photos in manual that I'm proud of. </div>
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SO I'm happy to tick this one of as done and done. *dusts off hands*</div>
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<i>All of the following pics are largely unedited except for the occasional crop or frame.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzurEzIw2e3RsJp52jkxsvNwpaKXY66z4VlgTsIaeiFf5FfejmYmTKhJv7lHap54YINKTRvIaVDzGAZ84yJpgS_bUGSFHDZtzkP0F1Fux574hYvjAyY9Fs03L7VRUOtqSVI-4uvGqaQl4D/s1600/iceland3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzurEzIw2e3RsJp52jkxsvNwpaKXY66z4VlgTsIaeiFf5FfejmYmTKhJv7lHap54YINKTRvIaVDzGAZ84yJpgS_bUGSFHDZtzkP0F1Fux574hYvjAyY9Fs03L7VRUOtqSVI-4uvGqaQl4D/s640/iceland3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">water fountain, hamilton gardens // first maternity shoot // austrian alps // norman church, england // lake lugano, switzerland // botanic gardens, vancouver // city skyline, czech republic // kamari beach, santorini // cottage, iceland</span></i></div>
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-53318451953008357722013-04-06T18:00:00.000+01:002013-04-06T18:00:03.787+01:00[oh my guinness...]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b># 26) Drink a (or some) beer in an Irish pub.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i><a href="http://dearfuturemeblog.blogspot.co.uk/p/bucket-list_16.html">See my bucket list here</a>.</i></span></span></div>
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I'm not a fan of beer - I'd always choose a juice over a beer any day and in my opinion the darker it is, the grosser. Anyhoo, I'm all about finishing up this bucket list (I'm totally not - I'm way lagging) so here is proof I had some dark beer in an Irish pub (well, bistro but hey ho) with the most amazing steak sandwiches.</div>
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Disclaimer: It was raining, snowing, freezing and we were sick as dogs. That's why we look a bit budge.</div>
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-92091665938655398592013-04-04T20:35:00.002+01:002013-04-04T20:35:21.113+01:00[the baker in me... part one]<div style="text-align: center;">
Dear future baker (ha),</div>
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Part one of this story is a little sad, and a little silly. </div>
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I like part two best, but you gotta have the horse before the cart.</div>
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Write that down. That one's for free.</div>
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I don't know in which scenario my life would depend on me baking an edible cake, but if there were one - I'd be a goner (gonner?) In the absence of appropriate real-blogger-and-mother-baker gel colours for a rainbow cake last year (they were delivered late!) I baked <a href="http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/chocolate-recipes/pancake-cake#close">Jamie Oliver's pancake cake</a> for a last minute birthday cake for my pal. It was average at best, kind of stodgy and plain.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3mz2OLOgLHNmfGgamTWTktQmMTPxPkDrcHB_vY4urvtNHcVWdCR6q3A_TAnWdU36Vb8y_gIifkECl3Sbj8h5sztWhtSOEN_R4CSSysq0nIRsCEkKsnPVJlJ5Sh94eZ61uraPRzeJfLeuV/s1600/IMG_20120714_071045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3mz2OLOgLHNmfGgamTWTktQmMTPxPkDrcHB_vY4urvtNHcVWdCR6q3A_TAnWdU36Vb8y_gIifkECl3Sbj8h5sztWhtSOEN_R4CSSysq0nIRsCEkKsnPVJlJ5Sh94eZ61uraPRzeJfLeuV/s400/IMG_20120714_071045.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Anyway, we ate a slice each and I took the rest to work the next day for my work mates. Under usual circumstances, nothing goes uneaten in the healthcare profession... I've seen some pretty dire things be eaten. Lets just say - rubbish bin raids have been known to occur.</div>
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So my beloved (mediocre) pancake cake arrives at work and sits proudly in the fridge with a sign on saying 'pancake cake, eat me!' I felt sure a free pancake cake would be a welcome treat for my colleagues - I didn't put my name on it so that I sit back could be quietly chuffed with my (very ordinary) efforts. Regardless of a few tweaks I'd make, it's a pretty interesting concept. </div>
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Also, its free. Free.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You see the stodginess? I'd recommend some kind of berry aspect would make it better - a jam or a coulis in the layering. I can't bake but I sure can eat.</td></tr>
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Fast forward to lunch time, and I'm sitting in the back of the staff room waiting for my secret praise. Imagine my surprise then, to hear... lets just say... a very stern and negative appraisal of my work. There was a lot of 'don't waste your calories' and 'all it is, is nutella and pancakes'. There was also a very long discussion about all the different aspects of this cake (also of how it isn't even a cake) and all the ways it could be improved.</div>
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Don't feel sad for me. I wasn't sad, I was just bemused really - I'm okay with my weaknesses - though I'd have liked to be able to defend myself. I'd have said two things.</div>
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1). It's Jamie Oliver. (Instant win).</div>
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2). Also uh, it's free. I repeat - FREE.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEu9bqYl4oJngMSrbIjpfJ-MIrh6Qiy8XxJ_orkP3KhqkeDh69DCyrq_gyKZqK0BjTAaJgXNDW2vi7u7SIBE_1iQKDktw_3Y2jr3w7ang-_DUn0uWRC5NijjAKxQCc8VUEuNw5BJj5BXxk/s1600/IMG_20120714_071131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEu9bqYl4oJngMSrbIjpfJ-MIrh6Qiy8XxJ_orkP3KhqkeDh69DCyrq_gyKZqK0BjTAaJgXNDW2vi7u7SIBE_1iQKDktw_3Y2jr3w7ang-_DUn0uWRC5NijjAKxQCc8VUEuNw5BJj5BXxk/s400/IMG_20120714_071131.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Needless to say, the whole thing was eaten within an hour and people who knew it was me complimented me. I'm not bothered, in fact I think it says more about the people talking that way - potentially in front of the 'owner' - than it does about me as a person. But that's a whole 'nother post.</div>
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I didn't, however rush to bake again - one failure too many in the baking department for me. I've been put on probation by My Guy now - to ensure success (and forward moving progress), I should bake only with supervision or not at all.</div>
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So funny.</div>
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Recently I ventured into the kitchen again to make some of Paisley Jade's special <a href="http://www.paisleyjade.com/2013/03/coconut-iced-chocolate-slice-no-bake.html">Coconut Iced Chocolate Slice (no bake)</a>. Unsupervised.</div>
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And I took it to work and shared it.</div>
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So grab a piece of pancake cake and impatiently await part two for the disastrous, life lesson learning results and also a success story.</div>
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Love, still no floopin' baker me. xx </div>
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-11871078832999494292013-04-01T19:28:00.000+01:002013-04-01T19:28:17.495+01:00[old me...]<div style="text-align: center;">
Dear future me,</div>
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The adventures in England are over.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaPhZLhuo1cZS5DNXDOEDxQHKoGBbySDCDaZK904B7EfNXpq9RJepuENNAJ2bt63fTO1jJvzB3RMJMHaind1Zlbh-WH74_GypGSHzwDUwWtUgRijcMt3y1ptwLLtNuguEbfUn_QuYolrm_/s1600/IMG_20130213_161552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaPhZLhuo1cZS5DNXDOEDxQHKoGBbySDCDaZK904B7EfNXpq9RJepuENNAJ2bt63fTO1jJvzB3RMJMHaind1Zlbh-WH74_GypGSHzwDUwWtUgRijcMt3y1ptwLLtNuguEbfUn_QuYolrm_/s400/IMG_20130213_161552.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Shard">The Shard</a> - I drive past here on the bus on my way to and from work.</i></td></tr>
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Don't worry, I'm not sad about it. Good things end so that new things can begin and I'm okay with that. Cos I love new things, and the new things we've got planned are uber good.</div>
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We are going home in June after a wee road trip in Europe and a stop over in Singapore. A little farewell to our travelling ways. I don't know if you ever let travelling out of your heart once it's been in, but I suppose you must move past it.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRsoKbx4lxa5edN07Ta8cTBeI-UTtFdxq8iUX2eXfoHJIb_By5jTR2JrAILUofv_aGMUHhyjFEcVVGd3rVf-fN4dt0zK1-l11lgQ3e821cbisOoRynI15_GTq4557ruGgZQgcB5dgzSzs9/s1600/IMG_20130317_101612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRsoKbx4lxa5edN07Ta8cTBeI-UTtFdxq8iUX2eXfoHJIb_By5jTR2JrAILUofv_aGMUHhyjFEcVVGd3rVf-fN4dt0zK1-l11lgQ3e821cbisOoRynI15_GTq4557ruGgZQgcB5dgzSzs9/s400/IMG_20130317_101612.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Out the window, heading to Ireland.</i></td></tr>
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There's a weirdness about going back to our home town where we grew up. We haven't lived there for almost five years by the time we get home. </div>
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Its just that I feel like 'past me' lives there and I don't care to meet her again. She uuuugly. I assume everybody has a 'past-self' who they don't care to remember, and I've decided to think of her as some kind of a bridge to my present self - who I quite like. She taught me things I wouldn't have otherwise known, helped me shed things I'd have otherwise hung on to.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil8AYnFmNj8scOmk2bLQbOzMeSHawhPDPg1EZAYXij2o3-jj6A5Vn0bELpKRgqhRkjd13N3MwKGxxBonFa4zLVwhmKkJ_xvmYeh_W3Q6cKx_g7ZbB__tfPWpvZ0cwl0O_l9y3sEFwcA-xk/s1600/IMG_20130219_140220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil8AYnFmNj8scOmk2bLQbOzMeSHawhPDPg1EZAYXij2o3-jj6A5Vn0bELpKRgqhRkjd13N3MwKGxxBonFa4zLVwhmKkJ_xvmYeh_W3Q6cKx_g7ZbB__tfPWpvZ0cwl0O_l9y3sEFwcA-xk/s400/IMG_20130219_140220.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>From one of our local pubs - over the Thames River.</i></td></tr>
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Something I'm learning - you gotta forgive your past self, and trust that she made the decisions she made based on what she knew then - not on what you know now. She made the best choices she could with the information she had.</div>
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Now here's hoping no one else remembers past me either! </div>
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*bites nails nervously*</div>
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Love you, and be easy on yourself future me... xx</div>
dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-25709117661107076102013-03-04T15:15:00.001+00:002013-03-04T15:15:27.243+00:00[amsterdam...]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans'; line-height: 18px;">[<b>travelogs</b> : a series of short, minimalist posts about places I've been and things I've seen...]</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Open Sans;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Amsterdam is well known for two things - weed and the red light district. Lets be honest, these things aren't everyone's cup of tea (or piece of brownie), but I do think that Holland has a lot more to offer than just cannabis cafes and red lights. The weather for the few days My Guy and I were in Amsterdam was gorgeous - sunny but with enough of a chill to remind us it was still winter. Amsterdam, you may know, is built around a series of man made canals - and for me this was its redeeming feature. Particularly at night it felt a little seedy to me, but the day time was very pretty along the water.</span></span></div>
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<i>Memories.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Open Sans;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Anne Frank's house was a bit of an eye-opener. I was impressed by her as a young girl, and her drive and intelligence as they lived in hiding for two years. // The canal cruise was very pretty, and a nice way to see the main sights of Amsterdam from a different perspective. // Bike riding is a big deal in Holland - almost no one has cars - my fourth photo above is of one of the bike parks, which hold over 3000 bikes per day. //</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Open Sans'; line-height: 18px;"> The peeps like to eat hot dogs from vending machines (munchies, anyone?!), and drink coffee in cafes on the many beautiful canals. // Public transport is awesome and super easy to use (although I did get on a tram the wrong way through the gate and wonder why My Guy got shut in the door and people were laughing at us.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Open Sans'; line-height: 18px;"> Perhaps I was swayed by what I previously knew of Amsterdam (and my runaway imagination), but at night I thought some kind of deal was being made on every street corner. </span><span style="font-family: 'Open Sans'; line-height: 18px;"> I suspect summer is a better time to visit Holland - I'd love to have seen the tulips (my favourite flower!), the windmills and visit a cheese factory. Perhaps another trip is in order!</span></div>
dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-90422599297462654312013-02-19T20:56:00.000+00:002013-03-04T12:23:31.995+00:00[iceland...]<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i>[travelogs : a series of short, minimalist posts about places I've been and things I've seen...]</i><br />
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A few memories from a fabulous trip/road trip with a husband and two dear (girl) friends. // One of us, I won't say who (its a boy), fell over on the ice three times in less than half an hour. I'm talking full on, slice your hands open and crack your tail-bone skids. // The wind was ice cold and so so so so strong - not for the dogs though - they thrive in minus forty degrees (celsius) and they towed us all around the place, those clever mutts. One of the dogs is famous - she was in a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=PVzljDmoPVs">music video for David Guetta</a> (as a wolf) . // Aurora Borealis (the Northern Lights) was on holiday, so we missed her this time - better luck next time I hope! // I ate an amazing steak sandwich at the oldest cafe in Iceland. It was very cute and had a funky toilet whose walls were completely covered in signatures, words of wisdom, letters from around the world. // We had a swim in the Blue Lagoon, silica masked our faces and after that ate an amazing lunch, in a fancy restaurant in our bathrobes (so stylish). <br />
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Iceland was one of my favourite places that I've been. It was brisk and welcoming, it was stark and beautiful. It was harsh and it was empty and it was wonderful.<br />
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-75008462686238553192013-02-10T21:54:00.002+00:002013-02-10T21:54:44.533+00:00[let it snow...]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dear future me, </div>
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In England there are two camps - snow haters and snow lovers and not much in between. It may just be that I have hardly seen the snow in my life, but I gotta be honest - turns out I'm a total a snow lover.</div>
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Haters, I get it - the slippery-ness and the dirty brown snow. The layering up with ten layers of clothing and having to take them all off when one goes inside a store. The slipping over in the snow and hurting ones hip, knee and arm (or so I've heard). I feel ya, haters - snow is the nemesis of a summer bunny.</div>
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Oh, but the silkiness of freshly fallen snow. The way the local pub suddenly becomes so cosy, and a hot chocolate a necessity. The snowman almost twice my size with whole onions for eyes and coal for buttons. The way it brings people together - adults smiling at eachother with cheer in their faces over children playfully throwing snowballs at each other... wait, I think that was on a movie I saw... You get the picture. </div>
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It snowed here in London recently and we were lucky in that it fell, then got a wee bit warmer and then rained it all away so we didn't really suffer the slushy, buses-won't-run-and-trains-fall-off-their-tracks situation London often faces.</div>
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And guess what? It looks like snow tonight. Yes, yes it does. Haters gon' hate.</div>
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Love, me. xx</div>
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<br />dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-64479327913137089782013-02-06T23:10:00.003+00:002013-02-06T23:10:58.200+00:00[what the bus just happened?...]<div style="text-align: center;">
Dear future car owner and driver,</div>
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Just writing to fill you in on a perfectly normal trip home on the bus today. London transport can be quite iffy at times but in any case it (usually) gets you from A to B and that's the main thing. Today was no exception.</div>
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<b>Diary of a bus trip</b></div>
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(*times are estimated*)</div>
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(*pictures are from my archives*)</div>
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<b>1745: </b> I am luck enough to step off my bus and straight onto the one behind it. I call this 'the speedy interchange', and today I'm super grateful for it cos I just had to wait almost 2 1/2 hours for my ten minute appointment, we have dinner guests coming and I'm a little over it. </div>
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<b>1746: </b>Two dudes practically push me out of the way to get on the bus ahead of me. I'm not sure what happened to chivalry but I don't intend to let it die so I give one of them the opportunity to be a real man and I forcefully let him go behind me. I'm kind like that.</div>
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<b>1747: </b> I'm standing up, now in between the two dudes, under one of their armpit with my... ahem... chest in the ladies face who is sitting down. Sorry lady.</div>
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Bus driver is ranting about how we need to move down inside the bus and no one listens - it's only safety after all, and we all just want to get home. Every man for himself. So the driver kicks the front-est guy off the bus. There's a lot of yelling. There's a lot of 'is this not polite enough for you, sir'. There's a lot of 'it was my bag, not me'. The guy eventually gets off and we leave.</div>
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<b>1750:</b> A baby is squealing. You know the squeal, that one where it climbs inside your brain and hacks away at your sanity with a small, high pitched chisel. I feel sorry for the Dad, who does nothing about it despite death ray looks from other passengers. He has probably learned to tune it out I guess.</div>
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<b>1753: </b> We stop the bus, and let a few people out the back door. Still we don't move down the bus, we're just glad we've got more room. No more pit in face or boobs in head situation. I'm actually breathing in my own air instead of recycled air. A couple ladies are waiting patiently at the front door for it to be opened for them when the driver pulls away. He's still too full. I couldn't hear over the chisel in my brain but I think I saw her mouth the words 'why didn't you buckets move down inside the bus?'</div>
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<b>1758: </b>At one of the main stops, a whole bunch of people get off and I manage to move up the back. There are graduated steps up towards the back seat and I sit in the first one up the step. I choose the right hand seat because there is something wet on the left hand seat - a lady with a baby (not the screamer, but another one) is sitting there and I can only assume it's wees from her baby, or perhaps breast milk.</div>
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<b>1759: </b>The guy I sat next to wants to get off so I get up to let him off and get my foot stuck under a bar so I'm kind of half up and half down, but he still tries to climb over me. I manage to get my foot out and he's on his way. Lady with the wee wee/breast milk baby now has a <strike>muttering</strike> <strike>talking</strike> <strike>shouting</strike> <strike>screaming</strike> completely losing his rag baby on her hands.</div>
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<b>1801: </b>A couple of steps on, a man waits to get off the bus and I scope him out from feet to head. He's in sneakers and cargo pants. No biggie. Further up I notice a dark t-shirt with a leather bomber jacket over top. Little bit rocker. Then we reach the top and I notice a head of completely grey/white hair and... wait for it... a sweat band. I surmise he's off to band practice and he likes to keep the sweat out of his eyes. Rock on, Gramps.</div>
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The guy behind me, in the seat one further up the stairs (as in, his knees are at my head) starts to cut his fingernails on his lap. It may be my imagination but I'm pretty sure my hair is now peppered with dirty fingernail clippings. I'll find them later.</div>
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<b>1803: </b>The wees baby is interrupted from his screaming by a man bringing his double buggy in the back door. He moves wees babies pram over to behind the pole and parks his extra wide load in the gap.</div>
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<i>Here's the kicker.</i></div>
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<b>1807: </b>Wees babies Mum must remember at the last minute that this is her stop. So she gets up with the screamer under her arm, and heads for her pram which is somehow wedged in the corner with a double buggy and twenty-five people in front of it. The on and off process for this stop is coming to an end fairly swiftly so she does what any normal mother would do when their buggy is stuck on a bus with not much sign of release in the near future. She walks calmly off the bus, puts the now eerily quiet baby on the pavement in the pitch black on a busy London road and <i>gets back on the bus</i>.</div>
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Let me repeat - bus is packed, buggy is stuck, Mother is on bus, baby is standing in the middle of the pavement. In London. On his own. In the dark.</div>
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Driver shuts the bus doors and engages the gears to drive away. </div>
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I am looking out the window at the baby standing with a quivering lip on the dark sidewalk, his face lit up by passing cars. I send up a quick prayer to the One who listens and I ring the stop bus bell fifteen hundred times until the doors open back up. By now, double buggy guy has lifted wees Mum's buggy over top of his mobile and biffed it at her. She calmly walks off the bus and proceeds to wrestle her baby into said buggy, and although he has made himself into some kind of toddler shaped ironing board and refuses to bend at the waist, she straps him in. Doors close, end scene.</div>
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<b>1810: </b>We have arrived at my stop and I disembark from this normal, everyday journey in the London Transport system. Let me tell you, it's never boring.</div>
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Love, public transport user and appreciater. xx</div>
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-38765407766558953372013-02-05T21:52:00.000+00:002013-02-05T21:52:21.573+00:00[snapshot...]<div style="text-align: center;">
Dear future me,</div>
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I have been a long time between posts and it's a bit of a shame actually because a lot has been happening and I fear I'll forget it all. I have been on trips and had situations and learned lessons and I have forgotten (or not bothered) to tell you all about it. To be honest, sometimes I think things are just best soaked into our hearts, and kept to ourselves, yet the point of this blog is preservation. So here I am, and here is a snapshot of life lately.</div>
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: : We had snow. I was like a kid in a sweet shop, I walked the slowest I've ever walked and had a giddy smile on my face the whole way to the supermarket. Snow geek.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAn-O_xs6Fayo7FQf20GQbnXJuTBK67MgkD5RtpCE2IxxQf2JedfvyF3rxVHcbfelDUUHX0tSEx8PTQu1mldHHR5ILT4Ai6dFp7OXY2o0c4wbY1iNgtm_f2aZCeDdeg61Ocd__5KG0sp6w/s1600/snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAn-O_xs6Fayo7FQf20GQbnXJuTBK67MgkD5RtpCE2IxxQf2JedfvyF3rxVHcbfelDUUHX0tSEx8PTQu1mldHHR5ILT4Ai6dFp7OXY2o0c4wbY1iNgtm_f2aZCeDdeg61Ocd__5KG0sp6w/s640/snow.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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: : Yesterday on my way to work in the morning, an alarm bell was going off. I couldn't really tell where it was coming from because it was echoing around the river, but I soon found out it was coming from the hostel across the road from the bus stop. I saw people evacuating and heard (NZ and Aussie accented) voices yelling about how cold it was out here. Three fire engines showed up. Hehe. I guess someone burned their toast.</div>
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: : One of the London family, our friend E, went home to Australia on Thursday. She surprised her family (love it), but saddened us. It won't be the same without her. She, like all good friends, adds something to a moment. Least she'll be just across the ditch when we get home.<br />
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: : Speaking of home, there are apparently rumours we are coming home soon! Please note in this formal environment - there are no definite plans to come home soon, and we are not surprising anyone with our arrival. There, now that's thrown you off track. Ha.</div>
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: : I had brought a super awesome scarf, which I dropped at the shop when I was trying something on. I went online to find a new one (they weren't in the shop anymore) and it was £7.85, with £3.50 postage. So naturally I spent a further £40 so that I could get free postage. Awkward. Even more awkward when half of it didn't fit me. Hehe.<br />
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: : Tomorrow night we are having a friend over for tea and she is doing a vegan month for February. What the bazooka's do vegans even eat?! Well we'll soon find out - we're cooking for her. Watch this space.<br />
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: : Lastly but not leastly, it's this fabulous lady's birthday today, can you believe she's fifty?!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mum and I in Santorini - Happy birthday Mum!</td></tr>
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More posts coming up, dear future me. I will not forget you. (Or maybe I will, I guess we'll see.)<br />
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Love, daughter of a half century beauty. xx</div>
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-32911568144535203802012-11-10T16:45:00.001+00:002012-11-10T16:45:11.222+00:00[bucket list : the money one...]<div style="text-align: center;">
With less than six months to go to finish my list of 29 things to do before I turn 30. 30. Thirty. Thir-tee. Cripes, I never thought I'd turn thirty but here it comes, barrelling down the barrel of my life. I'm not afraid of birthdays - I'm looking forward to the next ten years of my life even, but it's just going too fast.</div>
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<b>#17 - Donate money to a good cause.</b></div>
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My friend Elle, with a fabulous blog over at <a href="http://www.ellecroft.com/blog/">[a bird in the hand]</a> recently ran a half marathon. I totally admire her, I admire anyone who can run further than their letterbox. (I sure can't - and here in London the letterboxes are in the front door.)</div>
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Check out <a href="http://www.ellecroft.com/blog/2012/09/sponsor-me-run-to-the-beat-2012/">her post about 'run to the beat'</a> (and <a href="http://www.justgiving.com/Lauren-Croft">donate</a> if you feel you want to). Elle ran her marathon for an awesome cause - the <a href="http://www.thea21campaign.org/">A21 Campaign.</a>.. It's quite upsetting to read about the sex trafficking industry actually. Well I guess the upsetting thing is to realise that it actually happens every day, to beautiful women who have no choices or freedom. It's certainly much easier to pretend these things aren't going on in our world! There are <a href="http://www.thea21campaign.org/21-ways-to-help.php">a number of things</a> we can do to help, and Elle chose to be sponsored for her half marathon to help this wonderful cause. I chose be one of the many who sponsored her.</div>
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One more tick on the bucket list.</div>
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What a good feeling.</div>
dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-90765227289784562262012-11-10T16:13:00.000+00:002012-11-10T16:15:29.232+00:00[the courageous women...]<div style="text-align: center;">
Dear future strong woman,<br />
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I'm no feminist. I believe in equality and fairness between women and men but really I'm all about men opening doors for women and giving them their seat on the bus.<br />
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I just think that men are amazing and have their place in the world - opening jam jars and forgetting birthdays, building decks and teaching their little girls how they should be treated by the men in their lives. This is men, it just is. And those men are complemented by women, with their integral softness and natural instincts with people, with their mother hearts and their hyper-emotional--overreaction-and-embellishment of small situations.<br />
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Lately I've been aware of a few women (mostly in cyber-world) that I just consider to be so strong, and I've realised something that I guess is worth remembering... <br />
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'Strong' doesn't mean that the woman is above hurt or exempt from lifes trials. Oh no. Sometimes strong means recognising our own weakness and reaching out for help. Women are so good at this - supporting each other in times of trouble. We are also super good at tearing each other down - why do we do this?<br />
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Check out <a href="http://momastery.com/blog/">Momastery</a> - started by a woman who was broken, then healed and is now real and honest. She believes in God, in being true to yourself, in women supporting each other through the hard times that inevitably come. I love her practicality and truthfulness. <br />
(There is a super awesome thing they do - check out <a href="http://monkeeseemonkeedo.org/">monkee see, monkee do.</a> and the <a href="http://monkeeseemonkeedo.org/holiday-hands/">holiday hands version</a>.)<br />
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The aim here, future courageous lady is this: living a true and real life, firm in my beliefs and in the belief that life is hard and wonderful. Drawing on strength as a woman and all that that entails - supporting other women (and men). So go on lady, do it!<br />
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Love, current day woman, requiring stretching and kneading. <br />
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-32204647238963132522012-10-31T23:39:00.000+00:002012-10-31T23:39:47.872+00:00lately...<div style="text-align: center;">
Dear future forgetter of the small things-er,</div>
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Lately I have been doing a lot of things. You know what they say - busy hands make for a busy lady. Well, I say that anyway.</div>
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I have updated my blogger header - which is a funny thing because somehow I spend so much time on it that I feel I need to put it up, but when I put it up I'm not sure I actually like it. Also I turned off my comments (I think), which a friend did, and it felt very liberating actually. I feel that now I can write what I like. </div>
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So ha.</div>
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We have done a bit of travelling actually, which I need to update. </div>
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I have done a few 'bucket list' type things to post about.</div>
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I have been lost for the tenth time at the same roundabout, laid in freshly washed and dried (still warm) washing, and been projectile spewed on by a baby. And that's just in the last two days.</div>
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Life has been hard lately, but also good somehow. And I wonder if the hard makes the good better, and the good makes the hard easier.</div>
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Just a little something to ponder,</div>
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Love, life liver. xx</div>
dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-57124916648388551092012-09-26T15:44:00.000+01:002012-09-26T15:44:15.480+01:00[essouaira...]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On the first day we arrived in Marrakech we hit 46 degrees. </div>
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It was a nice break to pop over to the Moroccan coast - Essouaira to be precise. It is about twenty degrees cooler at the coast. We did a day tour with a local guide, who was lovely and knowlegeable. He also had a very interesting playlist on his ipod which included Peter Andre's 'Mysterious Girl' and some arabic songs and even a bit of Shania Twain.</div>
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I'm afraid this post may be a little photo heavy and a little word light, but I wanted to get it up. Hope you don't mind.</div>
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We came across these amazing goats who climb up into these trees and stay up there all day for the fun of it. Believe it or not (not). In true Moroccan fashion, some lovely men let us hold the baby goats that they happened to be holding at the base of tree...</div>
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... then charged us 100 dirham. Oh. If you look closely you'll see the little shelves made of branches, and up the road we saw some more guys giving the goats a... lets say... helping hand to get into the tree. Funny thing.</div>
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The coast was considerably cooler and very interesting to visit. We were significantly more conspicuous as tourists than when we were in Marrakech, but somehow that didn't feel uncomfortable or negative, quite the opposite in fact. It felt like we had more of the culture to ourselves.</div>
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I particularly liked the seaside, with its wind and fish smell. I guess it felt a little like home somehow - being able to smell the sea. <br />
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Each city in Morocco has a colour theme, and Essouaira's is blue. </div>
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See?</div>
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Moroccan streets are lined with tall, coloured concrete buildings. They boast shops selling oils and herbs, home made key rings, all manner of knick knacks. They are also complete with a number of pets, which look like they <strike>need</strike> would love to be adopted.</div>
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As in Marrakech, Essouaira is hustling and bustling with markets, people who want to help (and take your money). People who live from dirham to dirham, with children who need feeding and cats who need tending to, and whose entire living depends on tourism. </div>
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People whose simplest pleasures in life are simpler than you and I could dream of - and they are richer for it.</div>
dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-13893007798710321672012-09-16T21:34:00.000+01:002012-09-16T21:34:22.206+01:00[actually monday memorandum...]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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YUSSSSS! It's actually Monday and I'm posting my Monday Memorandum. </div>
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<b>: : currently watching... </b>As I type, I'm just finished watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and now I'm watching X factor. How great is it when they are awful? I know it's horrid to say, but I just think it is so fun to watch. I went and saw the taping of a session, and now I'm watching for myself in the audience. Ha.</div>
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<b>: : niceness... </b>He has been working from home this week. I like it too - having him around, just being there. Also if I need something technical fixed, he can help me. Ha. Don't ask me what is going on here - some soldering business, and I helped hold a wire onto a metal thing.</div>
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<b>: : assignment... </b>I was feeling a bit worried about not being offered another contract with my work - I had asked and they hadn't got back to me... Nervous waiting... eeek! Anyhow, this week they got back to me. <i> Lady:</i> "Oh, Stacey. Did we get back to you about your assignment? Because we do want you back." <i> Me:</i> "Cripes, lady - way to leave me hanging." So that's whew!</div>
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<b>: : oh, hello... </b>Oh, hello sunset. </div>
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<b>: : falling asleep... </b>Anyone else always fall asleep in movies? Watching them at home, at a friends house or even at the movies - I would say that 90% of the time I fall asleep. If I ever suffer from insomnia (I doubt I will), I'll just watch a movie and I'll be sure to fall asleep.</div>
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<b>: : patent... </b>This is a patented idea. I have had some trouble with extracting marshmallows from the hot chocolate without being piggy and using my fingers, or getting them stuck in the lid hole. BUT wait... I figured out while waiting for the bus after a night duty that I could use the lid as a scooping spoon. Gen-i-us.</div>
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<b>: : mum comes back... </b>Mum comes back next week, and we do a bit more looking around England and then go on a coach tour of Vienna, Budapest and Prague. Then we head to Santorini and Athens. Can't wait!</div>
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<b>: : fouling can cause blindness... </b>Really? How? If you rub it in your eye? Or as a comementer said on my instagram - if someone punches you in the eye? Also, how's the little poo on the side? And what is up with the eyes. Weird sign.</div>
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<b>: : date night... </b>My Guy suggested a date night last night and I was pleased to accept. We walked to a restaurant about ten minutes away and had some yummy tea. It's a pizza lounge and we shared an entree and a pizza, and had some lovely conversation about our current plans and work, and our future. It was very nice. And I even did curls.</div>
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<b>: : downton abbey... </b>The new Downton starts tonight! Season three... Eeeeeeee!</div>
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<b>: : sunday funday... </b>The London family had a picnic in the park today - we had a barbeque (we made it at the house) and walked up to the park for a nice meal and a few games of boules. I got a sweet picnic blanket, picnic set and boules set for my birthday and I love to use them!</div>
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So that was my week briefly. What have you been up to this week?</div>
dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-72877709976426417572012-09-14T18:00:00.000+01:002012-09-14T18:00:02.371+01:00[sweet...]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Dear future me,</div>
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I like this attitude. Seems nice to choose each day to make it your favourite day.</div>
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So sweet.</div>
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No reason each day can't be amazing.</div>
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Love, current day me. xx</div>
dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-70549958936617944102012-09-13T13:12:00.000+01:002012-09-13T13:12:31.625+01:00[autumn bucket list...]<div style="text-align: center;">
The lovely ladies over at <a href="http://www.abeautifulmess.com/2012/09/4-simple-goals-before-2013.html">'A Beautiful Mess'</a> posed a challenge this week - four simple goals to achieve before 2013. Funnily enough, I'd been thinking about just this anyway, in an attempt to get <a href="http://dearfuturemeblog.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/memorandum.html">hyper organised</a> (the space I seem to need to be in lately in order to have a clear mind!)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Image from 'A Beautiful Mess' with permission)</span></td></tr>
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I often think about where I would like my life to be in one year, five years, ten years. I find it motivating to think of how I would feel in five years if I was the same person, doing the same things, having the same issues. I <i>need</i> to have grown and developed into something I want to be, and not have regrets for the way I wish things would have gone. I guess that a certain amount of growth happens just in everyday life. I like to be aware of myself, and my desires and dreams and my shortcomings and to hold the person I know I can be in high regard, and strive to do better for her sake.<br />
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So without further ado (and bleating on about sentimental nonsense), here are my four simple goals before 2013, (inspired by the person I aspire to be in 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016 and on and on.)<br />
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<b>1). Complete a craft project. </b>I am good at starting craft projects, not so good at finishing them (as in, I am terrible). I don't like this about myself - my inability to stick to something (exercise, diets, projects) and so I thought this would be a good one to focus on. I have already started something in anticipation, and here's a clue - it ties in with one of the goals from my <a href="http://dearfuturemeblog.blogspot.co.uk/2011/04/twenty-nine-before-thirty_13.html">29 before 30 bucket list!</a><br />
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<b>2). Become fitter. </b>For years now, I've had the goal of losing weight and as I said in number one, I never stick to it. I just never do it long enough to make a difference. So maybe 'become fitter' is a better goal. I've been doing a lot more walking since living in England (incidental exercise) and I am certainly fitter now than I have been. I've been riding a bike home from work, and am keen to do some zumba and pilates classes. I guess if I get fitter, drink more water, eat more greens... the weight loss will happen too, but that won't be my main focus.<br />
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<b>3). Make pasta from scratch. </b>I love Jamie Oliver and his simple approach to food. When I visit the markets around here, I'm always inspired to eat organic, fresh, homemade food, and then I get home and it all seems too hard. I think if I learn to make fresh food in an enjoyable (and not too complex way), I would be more inclined to spend time in the kitchen making healthy, delicious food. So I'm going to make pasta from scratch - I'm thinking I'd like to try ravioli!<br />
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<b>4). Nurture uplifting relationships. </b> I'd like to be deliberate about the friends I choose to let right into the inner circle of my life, and to nurture the relationships I have that I want to hang on to for good. I think those are the ones that uplift and add to my life, and I'd like to be a person who uplifts and adds to theirs too. I'm talking about remembering birthdays, skyping more, sending gifts, words of encouragement. Not just friendships too, but family relationships and even my marriage. I guess what I'm saying is it's easy to get blase about relationships that have been around for an age, and it's important to me right now to be deliberate about them.<br />
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So all of my goals seem to be less simple than I had intended when I write them out in such a way. I suppose they are really as simple as making some pasta and going to a zumba class, but they mean more to my personal growth than just the tasks. <br />
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Look forward to sharing my journey with you!</div>
dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-57426926584096270022012-09-12T20:47:00.000+01:002012-09-12T20:47:41.287+01:00[memorandum...]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Monday memorandum has evolved in to just plain old 'memorandum' on account of the fact that it is almost never Monday when I post it.</div>
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My brain has been feeling oh so cluttery lately. It's as if the mind can only hold a certain number of things, and when it gets overloaded it gets foggy and slow. I don't know about you, but it makes me feel a wee bit sad, and the best cure is to get organised. So earlier in the week I went online to me ole friend amazon and purchased a few things to help me along the way - probably the parcel of my dreams.</div>
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<b>: : the best delivery ever... </b>I got some click clack containers for our food cupboard, and some labels to label which food is ours (we live in a house with a bunch of other people). I got a wardrobe organiser - it's kind of a canvas shelving unit that hangs from the bar in the wardrobe to put things on, right from the bar to the floor. I got a shoe rack for all the shoes that pile up around the door.</div>
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<b>: : the little things that help... </b>I've been working too much (any much feels like too much lately!). I had a nice shift with a lovely new friend I've made and I popped downstairs at midnight and fetched us a hot chocolate and a muffin. It's the little things, right?!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the elevator heading down to the cafe.</td></tr>
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<b>: : the great bike fiasco... </b>My friend taught me to ride a bike, and we've been riding home. Well, I already knew how to ride but I've not done it for about twenty years. So we ride home from work (in London alongside the big red buses). I am slow and awful, but I'm exercising and it's a little bit fun. Ha.</div>
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<b>: : sidenote... </b>How can I possible be old enough to refer to something as being 'twenty years ago'. Yikes.</div>
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<b>: : craftastic... </b>I spent ages researching the stitches, techniques, yarn and hooks for crochet. It was ridiculous how long I spent, and so I just decided to get started on a special project. I'm amazing at starting things but poosy at finishing them so <i>hopefully</i> I'll have something to share with you later.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crochet hooks (also in the amazon parcel of my dreams).</td></tr>
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<b>: : public crafting... </b>I crafted in public on the train, too (with permission from my train buddies - wouldn't like to embarrass anyone with my geekery!).</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Craftastic train ride</td></tr>
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<b>: : oxford for a day... </b>Our special pal, E has been working in Oxford for a few weeks. What better reason to pop up to Oxford for a day spent by the river in a garden bar? We popped by Christ Church school too, where the Harry Potter dining room scene was filmed.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christ Church</td></tr>
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<b>: : tuberculosis shot... </b>Got myself a tb shot the other day (compulsory for my work). It's a bit fun having a festering sore on the arm, really. I do love me a good hunk of pus (puss?)!</div>
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<b>: : listy list... </b>Purchased myself a 'list book' today. Who doesn't love a list or two? I saw it a while ago at the shop, and I kept thinking about it so here it is in all its deliciousness...</div>
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... look at this picture below and you'll see the amazingness of it. On the right is a note pad. Then on the left side a shopping list, some post-it notes and some little marker post-its. Are you totes jell? </div>
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<b>: : call the midwife... </b>Such a great series, my friend E and I are watching. Can you tell I'm watching it as I write this? Also do you know the most incredible news - that season three of Downton Abbey is coming out soon. </div>
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Shut... Up...</div>
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<b>: : stratford... </b>Popping up to Stratford (where the olympic park is) for a spot of lunch (and to buy list books to feed my organisation fetish) is something I like to do, and we went today. There is a burger restaurant called 'Gourmet Burger Kitchen' which sells New Zealand products, including 'Kaitaia fire' and... L&P! I took the liberty of introducing my pals to it, and they were suitably impressed, I believe.</div>
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Enough rambling for one day. I need to go and watch some more Call the Midwife, and do some crochet. Haha. So very 'elderly' of me.</div>
dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-46118166234471323042012-09-05T18:00:00.000+01:002012-09-05T18:00:08.378+01:00[visit from the mom...]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I had five days off when Mum came to visit, and we acted like tourists in my own town. Hehe. I've realised it's a good idea to see touristy sights and do touristy things in the town you live in. There is much fun to be had. </div>
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Here is some of the fun we had!</div>
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: : Went to a <i>West End show</i> - Billy Elliot. It was awesome! I haven't seen the movie but cripes the kids can act!</div>
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: : Visited the <i>Tower of London</i>, where prisoners were held and even Ann Boleyn was beheaded there. This big raven was hanging around outside.</div>
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: : We went on the <i>London Eye</i>, and it was a stellar day for it!</div>
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: : Rode the <i>longest escalator on the tube network, </i>along with a whole bunch of other escalators on the tube network.</div>
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: : Of course we had to hit <i>Buckingham Palace</i>. We made it just at the end of the changing of the guard and there were tonnes of people there. Fun!</div>
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: : Walked along <i>the embankment </i>to find some lunch and saw some rad art.</div>
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: : Lastly we checked out my favourite, <i>Borough Market.</i> So many awesome things there. I brought a freshly made baguette and some rhubarb, vanilla and something else jam.</div>
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There you have it, a snapshot of our week doing tourist-ish things. Now I'm off to research what is going on in London, tourist style. Hope your week is going awesome!</div>
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Meghan at MNM's does a cool segment on her blog - check it out.</div>
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-24393903805531271262012-09-04T20:16:00.000+01:002012-09-04T20:16:58.095+01:00[monday memorandum...]<div style="text-align: center;">
Encouragement is so uplifting. So appreciative of all the encouragement here on the blog, and also on facebook after <a href="http://dearfuturemeblog.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/a-case-of-dumbs.html">my last post</a>. Like I said, I wasn't feeling sad for myself, just a little confused and it's nice to know I'm not the only one getting dumber as I get older. Maybe I should just embrace the thickness.</div>
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With that, here is Monday Memorandum... a little late this week but I'm sure you'll survive.</div>
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<b>: : mum... </b> As I told you, Mum visited this week. It was so nice to have her here! Also, a little odd having someone here from home - I think I've mentioned before, it feels like two different worlds colliding. Not bad at all of course, just strange. It was super fun showing her around London - we did some fun touristy things (more on that later), and I realised how I need to get more touristy in my day to day life!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRiRAjXXWPazmMLKLKrNLXLOcE-MaO8nY2AiMge9qMjLTuQfS1RCPtRPT7FJpvP7W4-S-zaKsOH3FaXIKWZUxxg45lTXjqwIHlJzVH0wKAV7Mkh5egnFvf1IugrzMsPJTcIF9ih7RFL8_5/s1600/IMG_20120828_194517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRiRAjXXWPazmMLKLKrNLXLOcE-MaO8nY2AiMge9qMjLTuQfS1RCPtRPT7FJpvP7W4-S-zaKsOH3FaXIKWZUxxg45lTXjqwIHlJzVH0wKAV7Mkh5egnFvf1IugrzMsPJTcIF9ih7RFL8_5/s400/IMG_20120828_194517.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mum the day she arrived.</td></tr>
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<b>: : purse...</b> I brought the coolest coin purse on Granville Island in Vancouver. One of those purchases you make when you aren't sure you should, and then you never regret it. This week, I lost it! I think it fell out of my bag when I pulled my cardi out... boooo.</div>
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<b>: : kindle... </b> In other boooooo news, my kindle screen is broken. Stinker. I have to go back to reading the old fashioned way - with an actual book. How odd.</div>
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<b>: : man drought... </b>It's not that I'm looking, but I have a few single lady friends and I have noticed on their behalf that there seems to be a decent man shortage. Where have they all gone? If you know a decent man that is looking for a decent lady, I'm thinking of starting up my own dating business but it's a bit one sided at present. Ha.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The London Eye.</td></tr>
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<b>: : crochet... </b>I just keep thinking about this picture I saw on instagram of someone crocheting the softest looking baby blanket and I want to make one too. I started watching a few youtube vids of crochet basics and I'm after some needles (needles? or hooks?) and some yarn (yarn? what am I, American?!) to make the softest baby blanket ever. Also, is this even possible?</div>
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<b> :: work... </b>I'm at work at the moment. It's 2.37 am and I'm on an extra shift. Somehow picking up an extra makes working a little less palatable, especially at this hour. Also, don't tell my boss I'm blogging while the babies sleep.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Midnight, on the way to get a hot choc and muffin for my workmate and I.</td></tr>
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<b>: : lists... </b> Anyone else a major list fan? I have five lists on the go at the moment, and it helps my brain feel less cluttery. Lists for presents, things to do, things to buy, and even a miscellaneous list. I think that's the <a href="http://smalley.cc/free-personality-test">beaver</a> in me coming out. I'm certainly more 'beaverish' as I age.</div>
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<b>: : games... </b> I miss board gaming. I know, super nerdy, right? My friend posted a pic on FB of all their games - a whole bookshelf full and I just remembered how much good fun it was.</div>
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That'll be enough for now. I've got a few ideas for posts coming up so stay tuned!</div>
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1972424491906250755.post-71375371361914438672012-08-30T18:00:00.000+01:002012-08-30T18:00:01.254+01:00[a case of the dumbs...]<div style="text-align: center;">
Dear future smart lady,</div>
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Growing up (as you well know), I was fairly clever. I was in extension classes for primary school so I wouldn't get bored and start fighting people (ha). I passed tests in high school without trying too hard. Heck, I was never the dux of the school or even a prefect but I learned fast and held information in my head with relative ease.</div>
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I was nothing special, not by a long shot and I had my share of failures. I could do nothing physical well - ballet at 7 years old was a nightmare because I couldn't skip on my tippy toes (no toes and all that...) In phys ed. I was the last one picked, and sat out for most of the classes actually but that's no biggie - I'm not scarred for life or anything. Far worse things have happened to far better people.</div>
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In nursing school I passes with average grades. A little unusual for me - I had to try in order to do well. I am lazy by nature (not something I'm proud of but I'm too lazy to do anything about it), and so I passed and became a nurse without ever failing a paper but on the flip-side I never made an A. I didn't try to. My patients have never asked me what grades I got and I never told them. I'm better at the practical stuff anyway, and they seemed happy enough with my bedside manner and skills. I still maintain that in a job like nursing, there's no point getting A grades if you can't meet with someone in a vulnerable position and enable them to feel heard and understood.</div>
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The nursing thing is maybe a whole other post - suffice to say I seem to have lost my mo-jo and I'm not sure where to go with it, but it'll keep. For now it keeps me in the manner to which I'm accustomed. Which brings me to my next point. </div>
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It's just that I've become very... dumb. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcJ7HfC0mOKBCDJl_qnE63Z_OEj2QhvSVfqkeUFElxPbVBGallJC_sTjQc5jE1zgBbw6Pc6yKdtbunyKh_8nZWBNc5nE_MJSC2RCbLdzEPXag0NRQafBcH5SZwNGqKlajITSEa4wEwirU/s1600/IMG_20120707_214909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcJ7HfC0mOKBCDJl_qnE63Z_OEj2QhvSVfqkeUFElxPbVBGallJC_sTjQc5jE1zgBbw6Pc6yKdtbunyKh_8nZWBNc5nE_MJSC2RCbLdzEPXag0NRQafBcH5SZwNGqKlajITSEa4wEwirU/s400/IMG_20120707_214909.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Well, either that or I suddenly hang out with very clever people (I don't<i> think </i>that's the case... hehe). Or the other option I was thinking of is that I've become cleverer, and therefore am realising how thick I am now. Tricky huh? </div>
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It's just that lately I'm the girl in the group who always has awkward encounters with people in stores.</div>
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I'm the girl who doesn't know where something is on a world map.</div>
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I'm the girl who laughs thirty seconds after the joke has been told.</div>
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I'm the girl who sits quietly in the corner, unable to join in with a conversation about politics or current affairs.</div>
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I'm the girl people look at with blank stares, as if I am speaking a different language.</div>
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I'm <i>that </i>girl. You know the one.</div>
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If I didn't know better, I'd think I had pregnancy brain, or some kind of medical condition. I'm not feeling sorry for myself here, just surprised amazement. How did this happen? This sudden realisation, and the disappointment in myself. Also, how do I stop this? I'm reading current affairs websites, studying maps, thinking before I speak, making jokes, brain exercises. Nothing. I remain a thicko.<br />
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I always like to laugh at myself, and I'm a bit of a storyteller I suppose, but when it gets to the point where the people you are with are laughing <i>at</i> you, rather than <i>with</i> you, I wonder if perhaps toning it down a notch is required. There is a fine balance between laughing at oneself, and the ability to still be taken seriously. I gotta say, it hurts a little when the line is blurred.</div>
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This post doesn't have a happy ending yet, my dear future smart lady. I hope that I can cultivate some element of smartness, and soon. Before I get a name for myself as a total eggo and lose all my friends. </div>
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Anyone have a smart pill?</div>
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Love, current small brain me. xx</div>
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dearfutureme...http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910275440073320290noreply@blogger.com4