tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74721678074943848612009-04-13T16:14:16.562-04:00Time After Time...you will find me, time after time.Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-9233099885022394292009-04-13T16:09:00.002-04:002009-04-13T16:14:16.571-04:00Princess of PowerWhile following links from people's gchat status, I ended up over at <a href="http://dorkyearbook.com/">Dork Yearbook</a>. I thought I was a pretty cool kid. According to <a href="http://dorkyearbook.com/photo/1280/95811494/1/6pYT6bL7sm902meqc5RtTZnU">this </a>post...not so much. I'm sure there is a picture of me somewhere but for now we can just pretend that this is me and the little girl. Shouldn't she be in diapers?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.media.tumblr.com/6pYT6bL7sm902meqc5RtTZnUo1_500.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 457px; height: 700px;" src="http://1.media.tumblr.com/6pYT6bL7sm902meqc5RtTZnUo1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-923309988502239429?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-13537487221879051352009-03-03T20:58:00.003-05:002009-03-03T21:13:55.371-05:00What to do when it snowsI checked the weather on Sunday morning and saw that the forecast was calling for 6-10 inches. Miriam, Will and I went to the store to stock up on the essentials. Snow was on it's way. It's what you do. <br /><br />While we were out I picked up ingredients for butternut squash soup and lamb stew. While at Whole Foods something caught my eye. Key Limes. It's not often that you find key limes. I couldn't resist. I picked up a bag of them and decided I would find some use for them.<br /><br />The snow came. We had 5-8" depending on where you measured in the yard. This meant I was working from home. After answering a large batch of emails I looked through some recipes and decided that I would attempt a key lime pie. The recipe I settled on called for a graham cracker crust but my graham crackers were stale. I made a pie crust and juiced all 25 key limes. That took a while.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/Sa3i0PysoFI/AAAAAAAAAEo/sX4xULfiarw/s1600-h/IMG_0327.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/Sa3i0PysoFI/AAAAAAAAAEo/sX4xULfiarw/s320/IMG_0327.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309148922959929426" /></a> It was totally worth it. I love key lime pie but had never had home made. The taste was truly fresh and more tart than mass produced pies. This recipe may have to go in the permanent recipe book. Et Viola. The finished product. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/Sa3juVZ9fKI/AAAAAAAAAEw/_Fhmz1Nbc2Q/s1600-h/IMG_0332.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/Sa3juVZ9fKI/AAAAAAAAAEw/_Fhmz1Nbc2Q/s320/IMG_0332.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309149920899202210" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-1353748722187905135?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-6018585063844006122009-03-03T20:17:00.005-05:002009-03-03T20:58:12.527-05:00Oscar Winners Don't Eat ThisI had some people over to watch the Oscars. I served heavy hors d'oeuvres that everyone pitched in to put together. I wanted to try something new for dessert and came across <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/18/dining/182drex.html?_r=2">this recipe</a>. The detail sparked my interest. I won't lie, it took a couple trips to a couple different stores to find all the ingredients. The recipe was so detailed I felt I needed to follow it exactly (which really isn't my style). I sifted all the dry ingedients.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/Sa3bnIM5pMI/AAAAAAAAAEI/yL6W5s2AjO0/s1600-h/IMG_0319.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/Sa3bnIM5pMI/AAAAAAAAAEI/yL6W5s2AjO0/s320/IMG_0319.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309141001002656962" /></a>Chopped the 85% cocoa bar that was in my Valentine's care package.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/Sa3cMK1oeNI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/tsTmO8PtKW8/s1600-h/IMG_0320.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/Sa3cMK1oeNI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/tsTmO8PtKW8/s320/IMG_0320.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309141637365528786" /></a> Then I folded it into the batter. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/Sa3c28W5_lI/AAAAAAAAAEY/PHD6F52rkP4/s1600-h/IMG_0322.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/Sa3c28W5_lI/AAAAAAAAAEY/PHD6F52rkP4/s320/IMG_0322.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309142372212932178" /></a> That's right. I'm still using Meaghan's mixer. At this rate she may never get it back. This was the densest cupcake batter I've ever made. It was closer to brownie batter. There was enough batter to fill 15 cups. The recipe calls for the cupcakes to be baked for 30 minutes but I think that was too long. <br /><br />While the cupcakes baked, I fried the bacon, saved the drippings and browned the butter. That lovely combo went into the fridge to chill. I made sure my dinner guests didn't see the congealed concoction when I pulled it out and started adding all the other ingredients to make the crazy and yet delicious icing. If you take a look at all that goes into these cupcakes, you will see that these are not pre-Oscar diet approved. My guests were tentative yet intrigued. Once they gave them a try, the cupcakes were a hit! <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/Sa3gBN-98wI/AAAAAAAAAEg/pDGdkziJYY0/s1600-h/IMG_0324.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/Sa3gBN-98wI/AAAAAAAAAEg/pDGdkziJYY0/s320/IMG_0324.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309145847277941506" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-601858506384400612?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-38047371980633554122009-02-11T20:54:00.005-05:002009-02-11T21:12:17.370-05:00Holly Hobbie: Bedroom CurtainsThe creative bug has taken a nibble. I have started to try my hand at sewing again. A set of curtains had caught my eye at Target. I'm such a sucker for their home decor section. When I saw they were on sale for about $10 I figured I would buy one panel and try my hand at tailoring them to my needs. Since I'm a dungeon dweller, I don't have full windows and floor length panels really wouldn't suit my needs. Over the weekend I compared the panel I bought to the curtains already in my bedroom and developed a plan. I spread the panel out on my bed, measured and cut the fabric.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SZOEDjvW0bI/AAAAAAAAADk/clokcjXdC8c/s1600-h/IMG_0284.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SZOEDjvW0bI/AAAAAAAAADk/clokcjXdC8c/s320/IMG_0284.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301726383013548466" /></a><br />I ripped seams, pinned and sewed the panels and ended up with two curtains for my two bedrooms windows. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SZOEoVUtlrI/AAAAAAAAADs/I-oHIRSu_wc/s1600-h/IMG_0287.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SZOEoVUtlrI/AAAAAAAAADs/I-oHIRSu_wc/s320/IMG_0287.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301727014798857906" /></a><br />The fit in perfectly with my green and pink room. What's up next? Who knows?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-3804737198063355412?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-16052086221418260062009-01-30T14:37:00.003-05:002009-01-30T14:50:44.735-05:00I Belong to the Christian Bale CultI was watching a piece on Christian Bale the other nigh on the Biography Chanel. It was saying how until Batman, Christian Bale had a cult following but wasn't quite at superstar level. Who knew? I thought everyone had fallen in love with Christian Bale in the early nineties while watching him sing and dance in Newsies. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SYNYgzne6sI/AAAAAAAAADc/IDV3t8bG4hA/s1600-h/newsies.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 294px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SYNYgzne6sI/AAAAAAAAADc/IDV3t8bG4hA/s320/newsies.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297174907352705730" /></a><br />No? Really? You mean there are people out there who haven't even seen Newsies? (cough...Lis) <br />Now that he has starred in Batman, Christian Bale is all the rage. Rising to popularity with the likes of George Clooney and Kermit the Frog. Kermit the Frog you say? That's right. Take a look at <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/ohnotheydidnt/27350111.html?page=1#comments">this montage</a> that someone decided to put up on the interwebs. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i27.photobucket.com/albums/c183/ferdalump/kermit/kermitnewnew/01.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 424px; height: 284px;" src="http://i27.photobucket.com/albums/c183/ferdalump/kermit/kermitnewnew/01.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i27.photobucket.com/albums/c183/ferdalump/kermit/kermitnewnew/495072963_909e5a77de.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 308px; height: 213px;" src="http://i27.photobucket.com/albums/c183/ferdalump/kermit/kermitnewnew/495072963_909e5a77de.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Man I love the interwebs. Sigh.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-1605208622141826006?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-52175365594426603172009-01-14T15:30:00.002-05:002009-01-14T15:39:36.249-05:00First Day of ClassI just got off the phone with my sister. She was semi panicked because her class was starting in ten minutes. Somewhere on campus in the freezing cold, she was on the phone with me trying to figure out where her class was. We went through two different log in processes and finally just looked the class up on the directory of classes. The class was a religious class on pilgrimages. I decided she was just getting in to character for the class.<br /><br />The semi panic in her voice reminded me of my first day of high school. We had just moved back to Virginia and I knew next to no one. Our house was being built and we were living in a cramped apartment until it was finished. My mom thought it would be a good idea to drive us to what would be our bus stop and have us catch the bus there as we would for the following years. Clearly my mother doesn't love me or she would have just driven us to school even though we were going to three different schools at that point. For some reason or another the bus was late making me late to school and my first class. Panicked I tried to find my first class. Eventually I did. As I entered the classroom my teacher proceeded to berate me about my tardiness. It felt like eons before I could get the word out to tell her the bus was late. I was mortified. I looked like an idiot in front of a class full of people who I didn't know. Was this going to be how the rest of my high school experience would be. Nope. I ended up being head cheerleader and having the time of my life in high school. Let's hope the end result for the girl's last semester at school in the same!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-5217536559442660317?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-3314494047227266762008-12-03T09:47:00.002-05:002008-12-03T10:17:04.510-05:00Dance Class...Not So MuchFor a couple of months now I have really been wanting to go to this cardio class at my gym. The class is called Cardio Video Dance. The brief description on the website says " A low-impact workout with the music and choreography from popular music dance videos adapted for the fitness environment." I took a class like this at the gym at Tech and it was awesome. We learned dance routines from music videos like Janet Jackson and Britney Spears. Lately I have been going to the gym at lunch more often and the 6:30pm class schedule just wasn't working out for me. <br /><br />Last night my schedule finally worked out so I could make it to class. I walked into the studio and was the only person there. Once other girl walked in tentatively. The instructor walked in and as she was setting up the music encouraged a very tall man to join us. She said the class would be really fun and described it as a Jane Fonda-esque workout. She said she figured "if it worked for you mother is will work for you." <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51TNJW61DFL._SL500_AA280_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51TNJW61DFL._SL500_AA280_.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />With that I turned and looked at her and cocked my head to the side inquisitively. She went on to say that the gym didn't consult her before they put the description of the class on the website. That's when I decided to speak up. I told her that after reading the description I came in fully anticipating her teaching us the moves to Beyonce's latest music video. She chuckled and said that would be fun but she had no clue how to teach that. <br /><br />I would have walked out but she then started talking to the guy she had roped in to taking the class. He was saying how he hadn't worked out in two years. She asked him about his Olympic rings tattoo. He said he had danced in the opening ceremonies years ago. After that, I was hooked. We started chatting and then the class began. His comments are what carried me through. He was hilarious asking us why we weren't huffing and puffing like he was. He even knew that the UCA on my shorts stood for Universal Cheerleaders Association. I'm happy he was there. The class was extremely boring and I would have left early had I not had my own personal entertainer right beside me. When I head to the gym today I plan to tell them that they need to change the name and description on the website. I don't really plan on taking the class again even though I did break a sweat.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-331449404722726676?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-31780517491685626712008-12-03T09:46:00.000-05:002008-12-03T09:47:40.048-05:00I'm AliveI know I haven't blogged in forever. It is what it is. Get over it.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-3178051749168562671?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-36229774555271099842008-09-19T10:22:00.002-04:002008-09-19T10:27:25.720-04:00Good Night GracieNot Good Nite Gracie. Even as I type that my spell check says it's spelled incorrectly. It drives me insane when people use nite instead of night. One of the blogs I read has been using it quite prevalently lately. I consulted my trusty English guru. She agreed with me but then sent me <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/nite">this</a>. Damn Webster. I still don't agree. I am now starting a revolution. I will eliminate the use of nite and change the world for the better. Plans for world domination to come.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-3622977455527109984?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-40205364865334127572008-09-18T22:08:00.006-04:002008-09-18T22:26:37.891-04:00Political FamilyWhile my sister was in Charlottesville listening to Michelle Obama speak my cousin and aunt were in Wooster listening to Joe Biden. Below is the video of Cherie and Joe. I'll let her intro set it all up.<br />"Billy got me behind the scenes at the Biden Rally at the College of Wooster. The staff gave me a sign and a flag. The college kids gave me a flag and the Education Union gave me a shirt. I couldn't hold them all up at the same time. Mom would be so mad to see me chewing the gum! oh well! type in Joe Biden, Wooster Ohio. It will give you a few laughs from me but will give some good information from the Obama/Biden campaign!<br />Love ya', Mean it!"<br />I made it easy for everyone and just posted the video here. You can't miss her with the chewing gum mentioned above. Love her to death but Grandma Pat is throwing a fit somewhere because of that damn gum.<br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ihk1AhfvhCs&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ihk1AhfvhCs&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br />Here is Bill with Biden.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SNMNpXt5H0I/AAAAAAAAACQ/7gA66nT-ND4/s1600-h/BillandBiden"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SNMNpXt5H0I/AAAAAAAAACQ/7gA66nT-ND4/s320/BillandBiden" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247552995209060162" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-4020536486533412757?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-61760940030282403902008-09-08T15:37:00.004-04:002008-09-09T15:04:35.408-04:00I'm Fired Up<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SMV_GSfDhKI/AAAAAAAAACI/FX2y5XXWbhY/s1600-h/Fired+Up.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SMV_GSfDhKI/AAAAAAAAACI/FX2y5XXWbhY/s320/Fired+Up.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243737087160845474" border="0" /></a><br />If I only owned this shirt. I would be sporting it at this very moment. I received an email this afternoon letting me know that my team would be performing at a McCain/Palin rally this week. The rally is being held at the school and they are expected to be there to represent their school. That's crap! This is a televised event. They will be expected to cheer when the candidates are announced and cheer during key points of their speeches. I tried to find out if we were told or asked to participate in this rally and what we would do if an athlete felt strongly enough not to participate (we have a strict participation policy). The only answer I received was that they would be there to represent the school and not there to support any specific candidate. Yes, I am passionate about this because I think that Palin is the devil, would you want her to come anywhere near you? What fires me up the most is that there is not choice in the matter. This is huge. Not only are they not allowed to vote, but now they are being forced to smile, look pretty and cheer for someone who may go against everything they belive in. Even if this was an Obama rally, I would want them to have a choice in whether or not they participated in a rally.<br /><br />I don't really know what to do right now. My first reaction is to get angry, scream, protest. I know this may not be the best way to handle the situation. I want a positive, intelligent way to react. I am in a position of authority and have to be careful how I handle this. My own agenda should not interfere with what is in the best interest of the kids. This is a great learning opportunity but I fear that it will end up being a gross example of exploitation.<br /><br />Some ideas that have been suggested are:<br /><ul><li>Wearing Obama patches on their bloomers</li><li>Wearing "Yes We Can" hair ribbons</li><li>Doing the routine to the "Yes We Can" song</li></ul>Keep them coming. Leave your best ideas in the comments section.<br /><br />Update: The rally has been moved from the school. The community was in such an uproar over a partisan event being held during school hours that they were able to use their voice and get the rally moved. Love it!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-6176094003028240390?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-61755012542701752352008-07-24T14:58:00.002-04:002008-07-24T15:20:04.599-04:00Review: Starbucks Vivanno<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SIjV1cZ2RPI/AAAAAAAAACA/GsQo1t1srsw/s1600-h/bevDetail_vivanno_orMngBan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SIjV1cZ2RPI/AAAAAAAAACA/GsQo1t1srsw/s320/bevDetail_vivanno_orMngBan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226662481697850610" border="0" /></a><br />Today, after the gym, I decided to grab lunch. When I was in Charlotte, the Starbucks barista (who annoyingly kept calling me sweetie) told me they were coming out with a new drink called a Vivanno. It has fruit, fruit juice and protein in it. I told him that I was concerned about the amount of sugar. He whipped out the nutritional information and told me that there were only 5 grams of sugar. I was extremely excited. As many of you may know, I've been on "The Plan" in preparation for Holly's wedding. I'm always looking for new menu items to add to "The Plan."<br /><br />I ordered the orange mango banana flavor. The barista that served me my drink was very friendly and told me to have a fabulous day. Upon first sip, I felt that there wasn't much flavor. By now I'm halfway through and can really taste the banana but only get a hint of orange and mango. I was pleasantly surprised that it was not as gritty as I had expected it to be. Grittiness is a common problem when using protein powder. As I continued to slurp down my banana smoothie I pulled up the Starbucks website to get the rest of the nutritional info on my lunch. To my shock and dismay I found out that there were not 5 grams of sugar in my smoothie. THERE WERE 32!!!!! I should have known better than to trust someone who called me sweetie. I guess the Orange Mango Banana Vivanno (what a mouthful) will not be added to the plan any time soon. Today may have to be a two a day work out day. Ugh.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-6175501254270175235?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-83622481050273421272008-07-22T15:31:00.005-04:002008-07-22T15:46:47.579-04:00If you were a cake. What type of cake would you be?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SIY158_Qz0I/AAAAAAAAABw/W4okcgYf2Kk/s1600-h/bride.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/SIY158_Qz0I/AAAAAAAAABw/W4okcgYf2Kk/s320/bride.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225923687350325058" border="0" /></a>Maybe I should rephrase the question. Who would make the scariest cake person? Would you really want to eat a cake that looked like someone you knew? PLEASE comment.<br /><br />For more fun filled cakes, check out <a href="http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/">Cake Wrecks</a>.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-8362248105027342127?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-21964501171464331582008-05-16T10:45:00.002-04:002008-05-16T10:59:29.377-04:00I <3 NKOTBI am not a morning person at all. This morning I was wide awake before my alarm went off. I suspect it was in anticipation. New Kids On The Block performed on the Today Show. They had been promoting it all week. Actually even longer. Fans began to show up for the concert on Wednesday. It was crazy but great. I totally wanted to make the trip up to New York to be part of the fun. <br />I got ready this morning quicker than I have in a while. In true TV fashion, they kept teasing that the New Kids were up next. Up next really meant wait through commercials and segments until finally it was time for them to perform. It was almost time for me to leave for work. I called Miriam and told her that I was ready to go but that I really wanted to watch NKOTB perform. Both my doors were open so that she could walk right in and enjoy the fun. I didn't need any interruptions once they started to perform. After waiting a half an hour, they finally performed. They did a medley of their hits. It was great. Joey wore is hat with the top cut out. They did their signature dance moves. Donny sang Hangin' Tough (but didn't wear overalls). It was great. It totally squealed with each new song. I am including the video so that you too can have a NKOTB flashback and make your Friday a bit more enjoyable.<br /><iframe height="339" width="425" src="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/22425001/vp/24664786#24664786" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"></iframe><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-2196450117146433158?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-23287966456113794752008-05-08T15:29:00.002-04:002008-05-08T15:35:32.074-04:00Feeling AncientMy sister just IMed me and told me that one of her friends just got engaged. A little bit of background information: My sister is six years younger than me, as is her friend. I have known this girl since she was very young. She was one of the first kids that I coached. I helped her older sister make the cheerleading squad...after I graduated. This has nothing to do with the fact that I am no where close to the relationship status that this girl is. I'm completely fine with that. It's just crazy to think that this girl, who is finishing up her junior year of college this week, is engaged. She's a super sweet girl and I'm sure everything is going to be great. I'm just in shock. <br /><br />Congrats Katie and Jamin!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-2328796645611379475?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-37728242734888765532008-04-25T16:21:00.002-04:002008-04-25T16:52:52.413-04:00Welcome Home Bartie!I went home for yet another fun filled Easter Holiday. Fun time with the fam you know. My sister brought two friends home with her from Mr. Jefferson's Finishing School. For Sha, it was her first Easter. We knew we had to do things up right for her.<br /><br />Upon arrival my dad told us how there were six foot inflatable bunnies at the grocery store and that he had sent the Pam into a tissey when he inquired about taking one home. The Pam won and there were no bunnies greeting us when we arrived. My mom and my aunt when to pick out my cousin at to join in the fun. As soon as they left the house we looked at each other and knew the challenge was on. We were going to try and run to the store, buy the bunny, get back to the house and set it up before the Pam returned. My dad said he had never seen a pack of girls move so quickly to get out of the house. We all piled into the van and made a mad dash for the grocery store. On the drive there, we texted my cousin to let her know she needed to stall to give us a bit more time. As soon as we walked in, one of the check-out clerks spotted us and recognized my dad. She asked "you're back for the bunny aren't you?" We let out a confirmation cheer. She immediately stopped helping the person in line and got on the phone to call for a manager. The manager came and there was quite a furry or getting pricing and dismantling the bunny. We caused quite a scene. I had to tell a small child to back off when he tried to take our bunny. He was coming home with us. As the bunny deflated, one girl started to cry. "You've ruined it" she cried. We just laughed as we knew this would make our Easter. Once he was fully deflated we rushed to the van and back to the house. It was all about team work. I went and found the extension chord. The girls untangled the tethering chords. Dad supervised and help drive the steaks into the ground. Once inflated, we all rushed back into the house and waited by the windows, giddy with excitement. In minutes we found just the reaction we were looking for. The car pulled up with the Pam squealing that she couldn't believe us. It was great. The neighbors were slowing down and stopping by to talk to us. Sha suggested we give him a good Christian name. We settled on Bartholomew (Bartie for short) and the rest is history.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2064/2359314465_aa6930a694.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2064/2359314465_aa6930a694.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>The girls with Bartie.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3078/2359314721_2c116c487f_o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3078/2359314721_2c116c487f_o.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>The Pam came to love Bartie.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2375/2359315261_1e49c8cc4e_o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2375/2359315261_1e49c8cc4e_o.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>We dyed 18 hardboiled eggs, 12 raw eggs and six hollow eggs that we termed "Forever Eggs." It was Sha's first Easter. We had to let her dye as many as she wanted.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3145/2359314845_c49d5b23fe_o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3145/2359314845_c49d5b23fe_o.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>All the girls with their "Forever Eggs."<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-3772824273488876553?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-4696586114954507662008-03-25T11:19:00.003-04:002008-03-25T11:26:42.502-04:00Homeless<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/R-kYKkvkdDI/AAAAAAAAABU/vTpmLDnMeVQ/s1600-h/Homeless.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FsM8uoNnD_w/R-kYKkvkdDI/AAAAAAAAABU/vTpmLDnMeVQ/s320/Homeless.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181699416207422514" /></a><br />After a brief three month break, my landlord decided to put the house back on the market. Today he informed me that he is now going to try to sell the house empty (save for the Hermit moving up to the fourth floor). I have until May 1 to vacate my current residence. I plan on spending the rest of the day searching for a place to live. Thanks to those of you who have offered your help. If anyone has any leads, I would greatly appreciate it.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-469658611495450766?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-27655332649525818692008-03-18T22:57:00.004-04:002008-03-18T23:03:54.700-04:00Red Meat: My New NemesisTonight I ate 4 to 6 oz. of red meat and I think I'm going to die. I feel so sick. Now, I have not eaten red meat (other than a bite of lamb a week and a half ago) since the first of the year. I'm sure this has a lot to do with it. My suggestion to any vegetarians out there, don't eat it. It's not worth it. My system is just not set up to process red meat and I am suffering the consequences. <br /><br />*Disclaimer: The rich and decadent parts of my meal may or may not have had anything to do with this sick feeling. The cream soup, three desserts nor the three types of cake on top of that have nothing to do with my stomach doing flips.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-2765533264952581869?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-36658060510426503552008-02-13T10:27:00.002-05:002008-02-13T10:45:48.378-05:00Stupid AmericanYes. That is what people who watch Brit TV will be saying when they see my interview. I was in the Dunkin this morning (sadly not yesterday morning when Obama was there). I was bundling back up when a man in a delightful British accents asked me if I voted yesterday. Not knowing what I had been through yesterday I answered him with a smile and said yes. He then asked if I would mind telling him who I voted for. At that point I noticed the camera crew and figured that this may turn into an interview. I told him that I had voted for Obama. He proceeded to ask permission to tape me giving my answer and ask some follow up questions. It is very unlike me to accept to do on camera interview. I believe it was the combination of the lovely accent and the attractive crew that led me to accept.<br /><br />And now for the stupid American part. The camera started to roll and I was asked if I voted yesterday and who I voted for. I delivered my answer just as before. Then I was asked why I voted the way I did. My answer was something like this:<br />"I voted for Obama because I agree with his message of change. I'm ready for someone new in the White House and feel that he would be a good fit."<br />Not a horrible answer but honestly, I sounded like I was reading a message off a poster. A product of mass commercialism and marketing, all I could provide was a tag line. I didn't back up my answer with reasons such as I agree with his stance on the environment, the war or women's rights. No, I just said I want change and I want it now. Damn Brits and their devious accents. I was putty in that man's hand. Inarticulate putty. I will spend the rest of my day wallowing in my inarticulate delivery.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-3665806051042650355?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-36840723156733275592008-02-12T22:17:00.002-05:002008-02-12T22:36:24.933-05:00Risking My Life to Excersize My Right...to VOTE!!! Ok ok...I'm being dramatic. I arrived at my house around 6:15pm. I decided that I was going to take the risk and head out to vote. I knew that I would be guilt stricken if I didn't. You don't have a right to complain if you don't vote and really, many have suffered much worse to make sure I have my right to vote. I headed out and took things slow. Traffic was bad but I arrived before 7pm and there was no line to vote. After voting and receiving my "I voted in Alexandria" sticker I got back in to my car ready for another caution venture out on the road. I figured traffic would have died down and that I would just have to worry about the icy weather. I along with many others pulled into the parking lot that was the DC metro area roadways. Honestly, I spent more of my time in neutral than actually running the motor and moving while I made my way home.<br /><br />As time passed I decided to stop by Giant to pick up a few things I needed. I figured it would be a nice break from inching through traffic. Again, my naivety got the best of me. I walked out of Giant to see that the traffic/parking situation had not changed. With a sigh I got into my car and turned the key. The sound that came next was the tick tick tick that only means that your battery has absolutely no life in it. After looking up and shouting "why me?" I made my way back into Giant. I explained to the woman at customer service (multiple times) that my battery was dead, I had the cables and needed a jump. She asked a group of four male employees if any of them could help. In classic young male style, they all stared blankly and one by one stated that they didn't know how to jump a car. With a sigh I explained that I knew how to do it. All I really needed was a function car. A young female cashier ended up pulling her car in front of mine and providing me with just the type of car I needed...a running one. I hooked up the cables and started my car on the first try. I thanked her profusely and she went back to her cashier duties. I pulled in to my garage right after 8:30pm. So much for my evening. I hope everyone voted and made it home safely.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-3684072315673327559?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-70614813592850511072008-02-10T22:22:00.000-05:002008-02-10T22:30:29.043-05:00Rock the VoteSome of you may not realize that I am a mom. My title is Mom #2. My sister is probably the only child I will ever have. I'm perfectly fine with that. I have changed her diapers, taught her to drive and cried at her graduation. Now, I would like to encourage you to vote for her. I'm sure this won't be the last time I post this message but this is the first. She is running for Vice President of Administration at UVA. Watch her announcement speech here.<br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AYqaZ4WCGKM&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AYqaZ4WCGKM&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br />They also have a commercial. I'm so proud!<br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hQPX_u5rAlw&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hQPX_u5rAlw&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br />Don't forget to vote.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-7061481359285051107?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-9995630106749385352008-01-24T15:23:00.000-05:002008-01-24T15:52:35.031-05:00My So Called BlogHonestly, I think this needs to be the new title of my blog. Not much exciting is going on in my life and the only thing I feel the need to blog about it the DVD series I'm watching. <br /><br />With the help of many people, I finally purchased my own DVD series of My So Called Life. Last night, after I finished my homework (yes, I had homework), I proceeded to watch three episodes. My life is so sad. I have noticed that they are doing a really good job of repeating the kids clothes as if they are in the real world where you have your favorite outfit and are not super rich and can wear an outfit only once. As I was examining the repetitive outfits, one caught my eye. It's black leggings with red plaid boxer shorts over top of them. All of the sudden I remember having a similar outfit. The leggings were black but the boxer shorts were purple plaid. Angela wears hers with boots and scrunchy socks. I wore mine with Keds and scrunchy socks. I remember this so vividly because it was a major outfit. Part of it's major status was the major fight my parents and I got into when I tried to leave the house is said outfit. It began with my dad letting me know that there was no way I was leaving the house with underwear on the outside of my clothes. Followed by my reply that it wasn't a big deal because they were button fly. Shouting and possibly tears ensued. If there were tears, I'd just like to let you know that I am a much prettier crier than Claire Danes. My memory is a bit fuzzy as to how I convinced them to let me wear the outfit, but eventually they conceded. Man I wish I had a picture of that.<br /><br />P.S. I still heart Jordan Catalano!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-999563010674938535?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-6351531340673123812007-12-04T19:27:00.000-05:002007-12-04T21:01:04.831-05:00My So Called AngstSome of you reading this should just put your hands in the air now...you've heard this one. I LOVE My So Called Life. It was on during my angsty teenage years. I'm serious. I was 13. It was a rough time. I would rush home from cheerleading practice to watch Angela and her ugly crying face and to swoon over Jared Leto. I was devastated when they canceled it. The other night decided to watch some TV online and went onto ABC's site. Much to my surprise and delight, I found My So Called Life in the list of show titles. I didn't believe it at first. I clicked on the <a href="http://dynamic.abc.go.com/streaming/landing?lid=ABCCOMGlobalMenu&lpos=FEP">link</a> and saw it was true. The pilot is the only episode up there but it says Fridays Online. I am keeping my fingers crossed that they add a new episode each week. One of the girls who has her hand currently raised told me that she found the DVDs (which previously were impossible to find) on Amazon. I went on the site tonight and they do have the DVDs in stock. The are double the price that the girl with her hand raised found but it may just be worth it. So now I'm signing off to watch the first of what I hope will be the full run of My So Called Life. It's a bright spot in my dark day.<br /><br />Update: I just watched it and it was quite a time. The memories came back like a tidal wave. I totally heart Jordan Catalano!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-635153134067312381?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-72585723284072815282007-10-22T10:30:00.000-04:002007-10-22T15:00:16.340-04:00Avast, Pirates!Pirates pirates everywhere. It seems like everywhere I turn, I am encountered by pirates. No, it's not just because Halloween is a week and a half away. Whether it's people <a href="http://number4of5.blogspot.com/2006/09/id-love-to-drop-anchor-in-your-lagoon.html">talking like pirates</a>, people dressed up as pirates <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/118/282279459_5f9ba7d303_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/118/282279459_5f9ba7d303_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a> or checking out the plethora of pirate themed apparel that Bethany and I saw in Europe, pirates are everywhere. When I went to see Maroon 5, my boyfriend led us all in a pirate "yo ho" sing along. Last night I watched the West Wing episode where Zoey is inducted into the DAR and one of the women brings up Abbey being related to a pirate. I'm sure there are far more instances that I am overlooking. What it boils down to is that Johnny Depp is taking over the world as Captain Jack Sparrow and I'm ok with that.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-7258572328407281528?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7472167807494384861.post-24118537958011814052007-10-17T22:51:00.000-04:002007-10-17T22:55:10.384-04:00DistractedI don't want to provide too many details because I don't want to incriminate myself further. After leaving the school tonight, I was pulled over for speeding. The nice officer decided not to charge me with the moving violation. Instead he charged me with failure to notify the DMV of an address change. He told me that because I was polite, honest and had a good driving record he wanted to reward my good behavior. Not really sure how all of this is going to end up. I have already changed my address with the DMV online. Their may be updates later after I talk to my people.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7472167807494384861-2411853795801181405?l=findmetimeaftertime.blogspot.com'/></div>Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03639973122493910446noreply@blogger.com2