tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12911455314523851562024-03-14T08:02:27.772-06:00Believe. Learn. Do.By Abby Marie PorterAbby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.comBlogger116125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-52067314687771131782010-07-10T10:52:00.004-06:002010-07-10T10:56:17.468-06:00NEW BLOGMy new husband and I have a new blog:<br /><a href="http://w-a-t-s-o-n-a-t-o-r.blogspot.com/"><br /> http://w-a-t-s-o-n-a-t-o-r.blogspot.com/</a><br /><br />Change it on your blog lists and stuff. The new blog is still under construction so not everything is just right yet. It is kind of fun to realize that with this new blog I am closing one chapter of my life and writing a new chapter. YAY for new things!Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-46403456564592518862010-04-21T18:27:00.001-06:002010-04-21T18:29:07.923-06:00Popcorn Trees, Pizza and Exhaust Oh My<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Popcorn trees, Brick Oven Pizza and exhaust fumes: three smells that make my 3 mile run around the outside of BYU Campus almost unbearable. Popcorn trees have the worst, vomit with a mix of smelly feet, smell in the world. Some cars have incredibly strong smelling exhaust fumes that make me feel like I’m going to get black lung disease by inhaling. Brick Oven Pizza is usually a delicious aroma, but not at the tail end of a run with a stomach already upset by the Popcorn trees and exhaust fumes. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m not fully recovered from my knee injury yet. I’m trying to take it real slow so I don’t mess it up worse. It will just take some time before I can run my usual 3 miles a day. For now I run between 1 and 3 miles a few times a week. SO SAD.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I went to a Bridal Extravaganza last weekend. I was a finalist for a love story contest. We had to wait until the very end to hear the winner’s announced. What we witnessed was pure chaos. The announcer guy was just giving away gift certificates valued between 50 and 500 dollars. Brides of all ages were jumping up and down, charging the stage, almost knocking down the stage, and pushing other brides out of their way. Some of them did push-ups, some of them showed their white legs, some of them revealed their old age. I think some of them lied in order to get the prize. Yeah right, like that lady in the back left really just got engaged that day, on a Saturday before 5:00 p.m. And the red-head who won the photography shoot, please, like she is really getting married in a week and hasn’t booked a photographer. That was the requirement to win: the girl getting married the soonest who had not booked a photographer yet. My favorite was the girl in the front row, who we later found out was almost 38 years old. She jumped up and down to try to get EVERY prize. She finally won the one he gave to the tallest bride. Even after she won she continued jumping up and down to win more, More, MORE. Free-stuff can make a person go crazy. It was super entertaining to watch. I knew the lady who had rounded up all the certificates for the extravaganza. It turns out, she would have just given me a prize if I would have caught her attention sooner, and I wouldn’t have had to show her my white legs or stretch my leg behind my neck. She looked for something for me, but everything was gone. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I didn’t leave empty handed though. We got a bag and a stomach full of yummy treats, and we got a 2 night’s stay for 2 in any of 20 selected cities for a total of $40. That’s what I got for being a love story finalist. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Kameron is the best fiancé in the world. He is so patient with me, even though sometimes I’m a meanie. We’re just 2 months away! </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "> </p></span>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-41274359919744964512010-04-10T17:54:00.004-06:002010-04-10T18:18:28.426-06:00Worry or NotI went to the temple to do baptisms for the dead with my roommate Jing. She was baptized in January and this was her first experience in the temple. We had a really good time. She said she felt the spirit while she was there. She also got really excited when we started telling her that you can actually do genealogy to find your relatives who have passed away and do their temple work for them. She started asking us how she can find her family. We told her to start by asking her mom and dad about their grandparents etc... She said something about not even knowing who her great great grandma is. Anyway, that was a neat experience.<br /><br />I went to a BRIDAL FAIR today!! It was a lot of fun too. Free food, discounted tuxedos, men's rings, Dj's and photobooth's. I'm glad my roommate came with me, I didn't realize how hard it was going to be to keep track of all my free stuff and enter all the free drawings.<br /><br />I'm a worrier by genetics. My dad worries, his mom worries, his grandparents worry etc... I'm pretty sure it's genetic... So I have a LOT of things to worry about now that I'm on my way to get married. I instituted a worry jar awhile back so I could place all my worries that I have no control over in that jar and just way for them to work out. I hadn't put anything in it for a few months and just remembered about it as I was worrying to Kameron the other night. I put 15-20 new worry things, which I think doubled what was already in there. I am the kind of person who needs to actually do something in order to let go and move on. I've smashed pumpkins, thrown flowers in the lake, let go of helium balloons, and now I have my worry jar. It's only symbolic of course, but it does WONDERS for me.<br /><br />One of my worries just last night was about finding an apartment and being able to afford to furnish it etc. etc. etc. Kameron kept telling me it would be okay, and I know it will be. My dad said they used to say about his worrier grandma that she was really good at worrying because nothing she ever worried about actually ended up happening. I read a quote this morning by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland while I was in the temple:<br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><br />“I am not saying you shouldn’t be very careful about something as significant and serious as marriage. … Yes, there are cautions and considerations to make, but once there has been genuine illumination, beware the temptation to retreat from a good thing. If it was right when you prayed about it and trusted it and lived for it, it is right now. Don’t give up when the pressure mounts. You can find an apartment. You can win over your mother-in-law. You can sell your harmonica and therein fund one more meal. It’s been done before. Don’t give in. <em>Certainly don’t give in to that being who is bent on the destruction of your happiness.</em> He wants everyone to be miserable like unto himself. Face your doubts. Master your fears. ‘Cast not away therefore your confidence.’ Stay the course and see the beauty of life unfold for you.”</span><br /><br />Perfect, don't you think? I'm glad to know that if all else fails, I can sell my harmonica and eat one more meal. Oh no ,wait!!!! I DON'T HAVE A HARMONICA! I guess we'll starve Kam. :)<br /><br />These are some pictures we had my mom take of us really quick one day. The second one is really funny to me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi683xE6LKd57uDSPSpRtFxDhTozQT1nvpOc6z-9Gj6Ly_KGWEAngBYDc5AemG7J6Xidq8OzNvGoI9cYnczWe2L5TinYTkDy6F425R_Le_lD0H6TIAu9mNKUrHARAKhrMzXuFwB4jZ9mCYj/s1600/Engagement+Pics+032.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi683xE6LKd57uDSPSpRtFxDhTozQT1nvpOc6z-9Gj6Ly_KGWEAngBYDc5AemG7J6Xidq8OzNvGoI9cYnczWe2L5TinYTkDy6F425R_Le_lD0H6TIAu9mNKUrHARAKhrMzXuFwB4jZ9mCYj/s320/Engagement+Pics+032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458666107122576978" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzPLm-VaEop4W_O0yihb6A8B4TdzVSM-YWKgldycYDJWraPNSUp0MriAsvw3Z_OBWK2F35fDUip0QIR24JMlnSC6MM8m_k0mw_Glr2xx4fV4L6-7Bf_IWWdhZg9R3yi6NpUuNGj5kdSRY/s1600/Engagement+Pics+025.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzPLm-VaEop4W_O0yihb6A8B4TdzVSM-YWKgldycYDJWraPNSUp0MriAsvw3Z_OBWK2F35fDUip0QIR24JMlnSC6MM8m_k0mw_Glr2xx4fV4L6-7Bf_IWWdhZg9R3yi6NpUuNGj5kdSRY/s320/Engagement+Pics+025.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458666098867330754" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKSEvpLBwHcH6rc0gNEaVGuxXFLBvuaQefc_SwK11TvQsjKvPPCIAPHVkOuwVGZDqeeVnKhbDxRaa96arlDWKB-Zt49hVU7hs0NmHLHq1g3yKvanLQmzc3dgnM6IrKlYWJ3VLJ7sTiwxVi/s1600/Engagement+Pics+026.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKSEvpLBwHcH6rc0gNEaVGuxXFLBvuaQefc_SwK11TvQsjKvPPCIAPHVkOuwVGZDqeeVnKhbDxRaa96arlDWKB-Zt49hVU7hs0NmHLHq1g3yKvanLQmzc3dgnM6IrKlYWJ3VLJ7sTiwxVi/s320/Engagement+Pics+026.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458666092962214962" border="0" /></a>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-79535466872218258442010-03-31T21:38:00.003-06:002010-03-31T22:08:11.630-06:00I Knew It.<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:small;"><p class="MsoNormal">The first time I remember meeting Kameron I immediately had a crush on him. I guess that is only half true. What I thought was my first time meeting him actually wasn't. We took a Driver’s Ed class together the summer before my junior year. I can’t remember him from that class AT all. I remember our friend Mickey was in the same class, but not Kameron. Oops. It was his smile that got me hooked. There was something in the way he smiled at me when I met him as we were passing each other in the hall...it told me he was a good person. I knew right away that I wanted to be around him more. I wrote in my journal about 5 months after our hall meeting that I found the person I wanted to marry, and his name was Kameron Watson (that was in 2005, near the end of my Junior year). </p><p class="MsoNormal">It was kind of that same way when I saw him again for the first time after his mission. I just knew right away that I wanted to be with him again. Something about Kameron speaks to my soul ( I know the doctrine of ‘soul-mates’ is wrong—that’s not what I’m talking about here). For all the time that I have been near Kameron, I have felt such a strong connection. When he left on his mission the connection diminished, I mean, come on, he was gone for 2 years…what can you expect? Really, I still get sad every time we talk about the fact that I sent him a ‘Dear John’. I almost blew it, but he forgave me. </p><p class="MsoNormal">The purpose of this post is to tell you about my Wedding Dress shopping experience. When I walked into our 4th dress shop of the day, I saw it. It spoke to my soul. The worker, Jill, took it right off the mannequin and brought it to my dressing room. It was beautiful! It doesn't have any lace or beads or jewels or anything-- it's just simple and elegant, and I fell in love. It was a fun experience and I'm glad I found the right dress, and the right man. I love you my dear Watson!</p></span>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-90500496255683745572010-03-22T21:27:00.005-06:002010-03-22T21:39:46.802-06:00CELEBRATE GOOD TIMES COME ON<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You know how sometimes really big events happen in your life? Like, birth, baptism, bar mitzvah, birthdays, graduation....marriage?</div><div><div><br /></div><div>Well, you're invited to my bar mitzvah!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Just kidding. Actually, I'm getting married. This is my ring:</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwnn-5wIV41qczrpglbpdIrETAMkjy-n-PvYq6oOiW8oGxmjKe7Ck33FwHEJn0XFa9F4vQ3MrPWheKNmvwa9D7QBhIOx68MQ17HeL3nnd4aZ3s_f5vky2CyjuRhht_h_LKNvyciPDXCSQ/s1600-h/DSCN9006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwnn-5wIV41qczrpglbpdIrETAMkjy-n-PvYq6oOiW8oGxmjKe7Ck33FwHEJn0XFa9F4vQ3MrPWheKNmvwa9D7QBhIOx68MQ17HeL3nnd4aZ3s_f5vky2CyjuRhht_h_LKNvyciPDXCSQ/s320/DSCN9006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451667682047836514" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvSSKKEv4JuiR6muUgZTlV8D02duDFhBJdE0gVr2I_S5fHimvlc-VJZw-ifkgVBcGybIkPAsmnRW9c9JxMxAb8t-7NMGMuLpJVOcOi_JfgdCojSthHEjiRgKD7obSx_VcM32wQtwBpJWs/s1600-h/DSCN9001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvSSKKEv4JuiR6muUgZTlV8D02duDFhBJdE0gVr2I_S5fHimvlc-VJZw-ifkgVBcGybIkPAsmnRW9c9JxMxAb8t-7NMGMuLpJVOcOi_JfgdCojSthHEjiRgKD7obSx_VcM32wQtwBpJWs/s320/DSCN9001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451667677703364434" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And this is my fiancé, he is the best in the world. Really. We're getting married June 26th in the Oquirrh Mountain LDS temple. Every time I tell someone what temple I'm getting married in, I feel like I have to say it in a hard southern accent: ahm getun married in the oKer mountn' temple. Can you hear it? Well anyways, Congratulations to me and Kameron!!!</div><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOYtPi4VLwTlS_-h5a82QFm_8YLBFNlRVeNaNU8a5xq1cCYtLkPypJLnuOAcMnU2HQwagYRruPBE4KNgQELj5BJM7mARtxKK_eth3scc4aoXmwDFC9WN5dvX5n3O6hw5dSyU9Lp_W4Z0H/s1600-h/DSCN8991.JPG"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOoy7UXWXEzqvAYj0rTnu5iygHHC5OV8GsIeI26wezJzUfgq9H8UIdJwhzUj5Rl7envv6jcQhURF3gewDgfF-ozhOtTdUE9FAWChIeCHuLbCpVDa4kZm6PXF5_tdT9v6N6gRobWSrma8SO/s1600-h/DSCN8995.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOoy7UXWXEzqvAYj0rTnu5iygHHC5OV8GsIeI26wezJzUfgq9H8UIdJwhzUj5Rl7envv6jcQhURF3gewDgfF-ozhOtTdUE9FAWChIeCHuLbCpVDa4kZm6PXF5_tdT9v6N6gRobWSrma8SO/s320/DSCN8995.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451667662588315522" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfZxEDxmD7QRzRJGckNTTA6Mb33xYwKv3Igo7kOCdQbcHTRQ8BzUg1ge1L6ZOITbZz875K38ok5H50pxpdFqtgkwQOFiQ0-pk5iEejtcOlzto0JhW-THP6nt71ZudFsCpwmkcPw-_-KRP/s320/DSCN8996.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451667692002412034" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOYtPi4VLwTlS_-h5a82QFm_8YLBFNlRVeNaNU8a5xq1cCYtLkPypJLnuOAcMnU2HQwagYRruPBE4KNgQELj5BJM7mARtxKK_eth3scc4aoXmwDFC9WN5dvX5n3O6hw5dSyU9Lp_W4Z0H/s320/DSCN8991.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451667667652013282" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div>I LOVE YOU KAMERON!!!!</div><div><br /></div></div>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-14499263688032525322010-02-27T16:26:00.005-07:002010-02-27T16:44:57.030-07:00Where Have You Been?Dear readers, why have none of you been commenting on my blog posts the last couple of weeks? It really makes a girl feel sad when no one comments on her blog. Only kidding, I haven't written a blog post in over a month...woops, I have been busy. Today I had to say no to seeing Avatar in 3D just so I could have time to write on my blog. Hopefully the world of blogs has not fallen apart in my absence.<br /><br />A few things: For my job I sat at a booth in the Wilkinson Center (the main student center at BYU) trying to recruit volunteers for BYU's Scouting Merit Badge PowWow. If you can guess, my booth is never as happening as the booths all around me that have candy or cheerleaders and gymnasts. I do have free t-shirts to offer, but only AFTER attending a meeting, which, who wants to do that?? It is hilarious though to sit and watch people pass by my booth, read the sign that says "BYU Merit Badge PowWow Counselors Needed" and then make this awful face that I'm guessing has something to do with the way they feel about scouting. I don't get it, my older brothers LOVE scouting and would jump up right away to volunteer for anything Scout related....right guys? Maybe I have that backwards. During my watch at the booth I saw a 24-ish year old guy wearing a fanny pack. Two days later, I saw him again wearing the same fanny pack! I shuttered with disgust both times and still can't get it out of my mind. I used to get SO embarassed when my mom would even suggest that I wear a fanny pack on my field trip to the zoo or museum or something. I don't know what it is, but me and fanny packs just don't mesh.<br /><br />Bad news: I hurt my knee. It's the darn miniscus. I have been doing physical therapy, taking perscription strength Aleve, and wearing a knee brace. I have also NOT been running. It is making me really sad. Lately the physical therapist said I could run a mile on it, unless it started hurting and then I have to stop. I have been able to do it maybe 3 times out of 6. Everytime I have to stop, I get upset. I JUST WANT TO RUN! Hopefully my knee will be healed enough by the time the weather starts getting really nice and staying light later.<br /><br />My sister's husband got a job in Oregon so they are moving. They have lived in American Fork (15 minutes away from me) for 2 years. I'm really sad to see them go, I'll really miss their family a lot, but I'm grateful they have such a good opportunity. They don't have a house yet so I think they will live on the streets, which will also be a good learning experience for everyone. ha ha. J/k, they'll have temporary housing until they do find a house.<br /><br />I finally cleaned my room, and my car (thanks to Kameron's help on that one), so my next goal is to stay more up to date on my blog life.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc0p8nq_o4-fz2gJUSANkHyS8B_zIRSy9m4xy78JgbK3z02hNgSa6OsWa80NJ0ocQRjcuKW2fFQULmMAD7zAg1x9ap0CciVPWAB9pyW5AuoKl5QnK4j4B_07PSjzNbw9_I4Sv7WaoZ55E-/s1600-h/Valentines+Dance+003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc0p8nq_o4-fz2gJUSANkHyS8B_zIRSy9m4xy78JgbK3z02hNgSa6OsWa80NJ0ocQRjcuKW2fFQULmMAD7zAg1x9ap0CciVPWAB9pyW5AuoKl5QnK4j4B_07PSjzNbw9_I4Sv7WaoZ55E-/s320/Valentines+Dance+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443072921500374018" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">We went to a big band dance at the Orem Institute Valentines weekend. It was SOO fun. Everyone was dressed formally and we danced to the live big band all night long!<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ZxEkSpHXCGITePjt42J629bTzYwupTknn_KTGAQ2ljO2-1B5KgL2rkm1nJIjZ0l_3XQ-zmkda19HoDpiWdJW9Z7olu3dHhbylcfzQyQ3DysVUusbeuI50iT8ksdoWjX1K_hfVPKdqtuw/s1600-h/Valentines+Dance+006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ZxEkSpHXCGITePjt42J629bTzYwupTknn_KTGAQ2ljO2-1B5KgL2rkm1nJIjZ0l_3XQ-zmkda19HoDpiWdJW9Z7olu3dHhbylcfzQyQ3DysVUusbeuI50iT8ksdoWjX1K_hfVPKdqtuw/s320/Valentines+Dance+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443072910299642514" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Here we are (me and Kameron) looking stunning, as always.<br /></div>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-52503042990320654512010-01-21T20:28:00.004-07:002010-01-24T10:45:51.784-07:00HOLD ON!This month's ENSIGN has an article by President Uchtdorf called "Hold On a Little Longer." It's just what I needed to hear. It is easy to become discouraged, to lose faith and start to fear when none of your life plans seem to be sticking. There were 2 other times in my life when I was unemployed and desperately seeking for a job to help replenish my savings and fill my life with something to do. Both times, just in the nick of time, I was finally able to find work. I knew because it happened before that it would happen again if I could just be patient. Kameron and I were talking about it on Wednesday, how something would come up and I just need to wait for it and not let myself break. Oh, did I mention that Kameron and I are dating....again? We dated for two and half years before he left on his mission, and about a year in I wrote him off. I feel really bad about that, but it was the right thing for me to do at the time. But, I begged for his forgiveness :) and now we are dating again! I love that he's home. He was my bestfriend for those two and a half years and it feels so good to have him back.<br /><br />Anyway, back to being patient...The next day after Kameron and I had our be patient discussion, I was offered a job at BYU that I interviewed for last week. I am a Program Assistant for the Continue Education, Conferences and Workshops division. I'll be working full time, all year, on preparing for BYU's Education Week. I think it is my dream job and I am so excited about it. Knowing that I'll be working for a solid, sturdy, honest, organization and for good, honest men (one of whom is in the Stake Presidency in my parent's stake) is so comforting. To me, that is worth more than all the money in the world.<br /><br />So, holding on a little longer has proved its course. Heavenly Father has been preparing me for these blessings and I'm grateful he has trusted me with them. So now I've got Kameron, and a great job, and the peace of knowing that Heavenly Father hears and answers my prayers, and that if I will endure hard times faithfully and with patience, He will bless me in the end beyond my capacity to understand. YAY!!!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8n85QHjzhlxRAFWcY4H02sI9C9hAz4AX9hclzNcrgzdf2syAS_TyIU_6gFsAw0y9_1yReHVjxsm8LYSHXMOoLv_kFWFQHwhtNtgJ1qvyam-j6qnrB3UdgRtkewMSmBomE45iwz7HrX31u/s1600-h/Me+and+Kam+023.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8n85QHjzhlxRAFWcY4H02sI9C9hAz4AX9hclzNcrgzdf2syAS_TyIU_6gFsAw0y9_1yReHVjxsm8LYSHXMOoLv_kFWFQHwhtNtgJ1qvyam-j6qnrB3UdgRtkewMSmBomE45iwz7HrX31u/s320/Me+and+Kam+023.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430362697947706482" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VERsiLLv0QFximqAy-MWMYMpHUIkwKQ8wg_2GyPhczm5MPHUnMzHhfKGui8_8QrOLRnconyCXQT9WLVnhSfhmW7tTw9p7anQNZD0ybSQELW7F7aNo1iEBTX-M8lUXXllhu5lqaeM6Z73/s1600-h/Me+and+Kam+019.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VERsiLLv0QFximqAy-MWMYMpHUIkwKQ8wg_2GyPhczm5MPHUnMzHhfKGui8_8QrOLRnconyCXQT9WLVnhSfhmW7tTw9p7anQNZD0ybSQELW7F7aNo1iEBTX-M8lUXXllhu5lqaeM6Z73/s320/Me+and+Kam+019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430362689243493554" border="0" /></a>This is our midget-of-a snowman.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVkvs9BO6Qbn_cZB0pis9MKLF8YhmvfbGRdqxm2tdiD78wEFXA1SbPO8DEJgtzY7FuaZuJqsCTWvDtCm5YeQHdBCdKCuBGqo2XB8wNTvUCC9_VHH4vE7xw_4UdQyvoX8js1FvJ10SeshiT/s1600-h/Me+and+Kam+013.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVkvs9BO6Qbn_cZB0pis9MKLF8YhmvfbGRdqxm2tdiD78wEFXA1SbPO8DEJgtzY7FuaZuJqsCTWvDtCm5YeQHdBCdKCuBGqo2XB8wNTvUCC9_VHH4vE7xw_4UdQyvoX8js1FvJ10SeshiT/s320/Me+and+Kam+013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430362680362529378" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6O4EnBNWnjn0mq8JbbnWdFUeygO6HB59nCgvCCsSIFIZ3D3DEaGHuoRKYzYMcsVS8HRBzJpHdjM0FixrvXy0-fHztu8tnaZCg4p8LFamKcpbx3AdY2SAwcOH9EKXlgVwgd9Z-VpDKAxiW/s1600-h/Me+and+Kam+012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6O4EnBNWnjn0mq8JbbnWdFUeygO6HB59nCgvCCsSIFIZ3D3DEaGHuoRKYzYMcsVS8HRBzJpHdjM0FixrvXy0-fHztu8tnaZCg4p8LFamKcpbx3AdY2SAwcOH9EKXlgVwgd9Z-VpDKAxiW/s320/Me+and+Kam+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430362671451013170" border="0" /></a><br />Don't we look cute......?<br /></div>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-15749716953935892972009-12-30T19:16:00.004-07:002010-01-03T17:44:32.881-07:00You're Not Cool Unless You Pee Your PantsI was going to write a post about how much I love High School Musical, but that one will have to wait for a little bit.<br /><div> </div><br /><div>I went to Concord, California to visit my brother and his family. We decided to take BART (Bay Area Rapid Transport) to San Fransisco and then take the cable cars to the part of the city we wanted to be in. A nice homeless man, "the best dressed homeless man in the city" walked us to a cable car up the street that had no line. If we would have stayed where we were originally we would have waited almost an hour. Thanks to that homeless man for his kind service. Anyway, I grabbed Xander (my 3 year old nephew) and jumped up on the cable car. In San Fransisco it's every man for himself. You literally have to push and shove your way into everything and you had better do it fast. </div><br /><div> </div>You know, I used to be a bed wetter. I guess that's not something you should admit on your blog. It hasn't been a problem though since I was very young--I haven't had an accident since I was 8 years old. I have a friend who, up until like last year, she still would lose control of her bladder when she had to go on scary rides like the Mouse Trap at Lagoon. :). I was sitting there with Xander on my lap in the CROWDED cable car dying of heat. We thought it would be cold so we all bundled up pretty good. Xander fell asleep and I was having a great time sliding up and down on the bench when we would go up and down the steep streets of San Fransisco. Well, when we got off the cable car and I gave Xander to his mom, this is what we found:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKYNWETJYlTw2aXUR5EkroMnXoVzf5Vrpnt7U48ckIG7uyKtAD5iASLIUjogO4xoGioie2XA4Ws6R1-Hx3WXkRuRQ8KGHAgVgqCimT0GYO90epDtJPpNmntNuetOtGT7knp4msHBntwSJ/s1600-h/abbys+037.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKYNWETJYlTw2aXUR5EkroMnXoVzf5Vrpnt7U48ckIG7uyKtAD5iASLIUjogO4xoGioie2XA4Ws6R1-Hx3WXkRuRQ8KGHAgVgqCimT0GYO90epDtJPpNmntNuetOtGT7knp4msHBntwSJ/s320/abbys+037.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421909889646370034" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLK9MZJ2-4EvRrawcbcL0S4PMetM7Ro0yJJl2kP9AdE10iacbSvuPxb6KaqSMqb7n_p-UXt2ORKH1RP3uGtZ0wXcDupGubjcBkv0c9Rc3DdlHcCcxdQqBEY6EciTFL0MmvBzowtAk2mgk9/s1600-h/abbys+038.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLK9MZJ2-4EvRrawcbcL0S4PMetM7Ro0yJJl2kP9AdE10iacbSvuPxb6KaqSMqb7n_p-UXt2ORKH1RP3uGtZ0wXcDupGubjcBkv0c9Rc3DdlHcCcxdQqBEY6EciTFL0MmvBzowtAk2mgk9/s320/abbys+038.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421909899460295602" border="0" /></a><div> </div>Don't be alarmed: my "staying dry" streak has not been compromised. This is not MY pee. This is Xander's pee. Have you ever had someone else pee your pants? Well it's gross. No one really seemed to care. They laughed a little and then we mozied on over to a bathroom. I tried to wipe the pee off with a wet paper towel, but I think all I did was to soak the pee further into my pants and legs. It was quite funny, and although I didn't enjoy walking around with pee on my pants, I had a great time and I still love Xander.Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-8910251039290154592009-12-24T22:55:00.003-07:002009-12-24T23:01:37.117-07:00Jesus Wept<span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:85%;" >Sometimes when I feel like life has thrown me into a washing machine the only thing I want to do is WRITE. It’s at these times I wish I had my friend Marcie’s ability to put my thoughts into words.
<br />
<br /></span> <p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s Christmas Eve. Caleb and I will be up at <st1:time minute="30" hour="6">6:30 AM</st1:time> to open our presents. I’m grateful Caleb still gets excited to wake up early. I would be embarrassed if at 21 years old I was the only one still excited about it. </span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Tonight we gathered at my grandma and grandpa Porter’s home to eat and do our traditional white elephant exchange. My nephew Luke was upset after it all because he wanted a different present or another present or something like that. My sister Hannah turned to me and said it is so hard to teach little kids to be grateful for what they have. They just always want more or better, and can’t understand being content with what they are given. </span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Yesterday I watched my sister Betsy’s kids for a few hours. Porter all of a sudden started whining that he wanted his mom. If you know Betsy’s kids you know that is unusual. They are the most easy going kids I know and rarely ever ask for their mom when someone else is babysitting. Anyway, I told Porter that she would be home later, but he kept crying and saying “I want her now.” <span style=""> </span>I tried to explain that I know he WANTS her now, but there is no way she could come home at the moment and he was just going to have to wait. </span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Jesus Christ often counsels us to become as little children. Observing these two experiences with my 3 and 4 year old nephews I realized I’m a lot like a little child. I often want more and better without being grateful for what I already have. I also have a hard time being patient: when I want something, I want it <st1:stockticker>NOW</st1:stockticker>. Unfortunately, I’m sure that’s not what the Savior meant when he told us to be like little children. I drop to my knees and plead for one thing or another over and over again, and I can imagine Him saying to me as I said to Porter, “I know you want it now and I want you to have it, but you just need to wait.” I can hear Him telling me that it’s so hard to teach His children (meaning me) to be grateful for what they already have. </span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">We read accounts in the scriptures of Jesus weeping. He wept as he visited the Lamanites and Nephites as a resurrected being in 3 Nephi. He wept over <st1:city><st1:place>Jerusalem</st1:place></st1:city>’s wickedness in the book of Luke. He wept when he came to the tomb of Lazarus, his friend, in the book of John. He wept in the book of Moses over His people who had forgotten their Creator and chose to hate and do wickedness. I’d like to think that He has wept a hundred thousand times more with me. It is comforting to know that He has felt what I feel and he has wept tears of sorrow and tears of joy with me. The King of Kings has wept with ME. Tomorrow as I open presents to celebrate the Savior’s birth, I will be thinking about how I couldn’t ask for anything more than what He has already given me. MERRY CHRISTMAS!</span></p><p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8NKNUQ6z_QkPjUHq6Xd6uxpQQTbjOSLMmfyXUy8zhqQI__LbIazXw5XAoUb5qFs0oGYOW69aSkxWPM-HCLsbDu_GCAMKDllHS0Z1YSqjxDs5HshL8_RSHInuibWDvBSjYr2oR98MJPpe/s1600-h/jesus_child.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8NKNUQ6z_QkPjUHq6Xd6uxpQQTbjOSLMmfyXUy8zhqQI__LbIazXw5XAoUb5qFs0oGYOW69aSkxWPM-HCLsbDu_GCAMKDllHS0Z1YSqjxDs5HshL8_RSHInuibWDvBSjYr2oR98MJPpe/s320/jesus_child.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419049215607293042" border="0" /></a></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:78%;">
<br /></span></p> Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-58350818949722161972009-12-06T23:49:00.004-07:002009-12-07T00:15:46.598-07:00Mission StatementDo you have a mission statement? I've come to realize that most organizations do, but most individuals don't. It's probably true that most individuals have no idea what any organization's mission statement is, and they probably don't really care to know either--most likely they care less about developing their own mission statement. I know BYU's mission statement is "enter to date go forth to mate".....just kidding. That is what my non-LDS roommates religion teacher told the class of non-LDS students to make them laugh. I thought it was a funny joke. Anyway, BYU's real mission statement is "Enter to Learn go forth to Serve". In the book "7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens" by Sean Covey (yes I read the one for Teens because we were supposed to read it when I worked at the high school--but I think what I'm about to say is also in the 7 Habits of Highly Effective People) it talks about the importance of individuals having a mission statement. I decided I'd like to have one.<br /><br />My mission statement is "Believe. Learn. Do." I created this to help me face the challenges that came up as I worked at Merit (the charter high school). I wanted to believe in myself and my own abilities, but most importantly I wanted to let the kids know I believed in them and their abilities. I wanted to learn everything I could about how to help parents, faculty and students and how to do my job efficiently. I wanted to not be afraid to DO and I wanted to help the students not be afraid to DO. Sometimes that's the hardest part right? You can find out a way to believe in yourself, and then learn what you need to do, but when it comes to the actual doing part it gets a little harder. It turns out my mission statement is really applicable to every aspect of my life, and I have placed it in the title of my blog to help me remember. It gives me a little extra courage. When my life is over I want everyone to know that I was a believer in my self and others, that I learned every chance I got, and that I wasn't afraid to do what I knew and learned. In General Conference Elder Bednar said rather than just continuing to know more stuff we should make sure we are also doing more of what we know is right.<br /><br />Advice from the 7 Habits book: there is no right way to write a mission statement. It can be long or short, it can be a quote someone else already said, it can be a poem or just 2 simple words. Once you write it, put it in a place where you'll see it often.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">These picture are of my roommates and me at Jing's 20th birthday party. Today Jing said the closing prayer in Sunday School (she is not a member) and she said it in Cantonese. I think it's cool that God speaks every language there is and that he hears Jing's prayer in Cantonese or Mandarin just as well as he hears mine in English.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK39X02Hz4z0drlTDjOEgH52sgETk1foN3YEvA_cryYVQFAhDrtaC05FNmdkW_-vEoY-Z5Yh3CE4rh5uK9yN7j_RerR2fwyNkI9V_acRcp0PZMn32i28y4HVjurEP_FyjhkPSh0snaKerZ/s1600-h/Jing's+B-day+024.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK39X02Hz4z0drlTDjOEgH52sgETk1foN3YEvA_cryYVQFAhDrtaC05FNmdkW_-vEoY-Z5Yh3CE4rh5uK9yN7j_RerR2fwyNkI9V_acRcp0PZMn32i28y4HVjurEP_FyjhkPSh0snaKerZ/s320/Jing's+B-day+024.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412387290441941154" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGLV27HQ-G47x0XWjcFaoC4Z4p4-atH3bi4HwfxIFpZZUdu6z1BVPKY2jKPAum2TqUMFZ9Xvqg7aKJgeSLTQgV00a2mpULWygXkdzFT3tWWucJ_M9ORPLvaMwpH5b8DhzuRIe4Fwff1uA/s1600-h/Jing's+B-day+011.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGLV27HQ-G47x0XWjcFaoC4Z4p4-atH3bi4HwfxIFpZZUdu6z1BVPKY2jKPAum2TqUMFZ9Xvqg7aKJgeSLTQgV00a2mpULWygXkdzFT3tWWucJ_M9ORPLvaMwpH5b8DhzuRIe4Fwff1uA/s320/Jing's+B-day+011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412387282813617970" border="0" /></a>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-14171112810750367262009-11-30T14:15:00.004-07:002009-11-30T14:40:44.585-07:00My Favorite Things. Plus one thing I Hate.The other week I was on a date and the boy said "tell me your favorite thing in life, ready...go." I felt pressured because I had to respond so quickly. He was not going to give me any time to think about it. I shouted out, "running!" Then I said, I mean, "my family...or wait, the Church?" I was thinking one of the last two should have been what initially came to my mind, but I was under so much pressure. Maybe my mind was thinking the first two were a given so I actually blurted out number 3 on my list of favorite things in life. Number 4 would be honey (the creamed kind from New Zealand, or 2nd best from Trader Joes). For some reason the apostrophe on my keyboard is not working at the moment, so please excuse me for not including apostrophes in their proper places.<br /><br />One thing you will NEVER find on my list of favorite things is money. I hate money. I often wonder why it has to exist. If everyone agreed to work for free and if no one in the world charged money for machinery, materials or the final product, we would never have to spend money. The familiar phrase "I can't afford it" (hey! the apostrophe worked!)would cease to exist. The charger for my laptop stopped working (after 2 years it was about time). I went to Best Buy to get a new one: $80. Lucky for me it was only $70 at Wal Mart. Not like I can afford to spend $70--I'm jobless for crying out loud. For me, a computer is an absolute necessity though, so I spent the money and I'm trying to forget about it. I also bought a new cord for my camera so I can finally put pictures on the computer. Once again it was much cheaper at Wal Mart than anywhere else. Wal Mart is the bomb. Yay for pictures.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qcBxyxXxba1-bLKAbBD19jXHt5YGnNDnu7bLhat5Dldtf45EC33QsUi_D38sLBaGOSwYYlkKPXhAmzO1M-BHS55IslcZQYYMGitA8yPEYD8SzMVdJe7AHKsAZZbxd7mqMHhyQL89o6Ve/s1600/Halloween+and+New+Mexico+067.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qcBxyxXxba1-bLKAbBD19jXHt5YGnNDnu7bLhat5Dldtf45EC33QsUi_D38sLBaGOSwYYlkKPXhAmzO1M-BHS55IslcZQYYMGitA8yPEYD8SzMVdJe7AHKsAZZbxd7mqMHhyQL89o6Ve/s320/Halloween+and+New+Mexico+067.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410012391133974946" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">My new nephew Nathan. He was born on Thanksgiving. Remember how I'm really good at taking pictures of myself? I got us both in this one. True talent.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJH2IT8JYtTurYIxPLsBye4PWb52fuJGvdGVQrf8UYxag0n-2v_iyyeiej3VbkDL1daz-aAf4JzFIvpqgtbvoWBEuB8XSGX89vnc4bRlGN4qgg19idwm5Lr8xVeohdxrzHRwXL9vFWTuA/s1600/Halloween+and+New+Mexico+019.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJH2IT8JYtTurYIxPLsBye4PWb52fuJGvdGVQrf8UYxag0n-2v_iyyeiej3VbkDL1daz-aAf4JzFIvpqgtbvoWBEuB8XSGX89vnc4bRlGN4qgg19idwm5Lr8xVeohdxrzHRwXL9vFWTuA/s320/Halloween+and+New+Mexico+019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410012383496244450" border="0" /></a><br />This is my roommate Kaylee. She is SO cool. We were playing around with the setting on my camera that automatically takes 3 pictures in a row. We didn't know when they would take so it caught us at our best.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmOLLLCBAnet2lt446xWaKwR8WhbgiwcmT5NusO4v0W7YVANBWioLB6xFOVFt9LMUlIN78-pDWj-GMFeqhnPqGyBKgyBGYFItOjTf3LND-rxPJRSmJRVe8aL3ieGJtWky3MDsfZGiw6lx/s1600/Halloween+and+New+Mexico+004.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmOLLLCBAnet2lt446xWaKwR8WhbgiwcmT5NusO4v0W7YVANBWioLB6xFOVFt9LMUlIN78-pDWj-GMFeqhnPqGyBKgyBGYFItOjTf3LND-rxPJRSmJRVe8aL3ieGJtWky3MDsfZGiw6lx/s320/Halloween+and+New+Mexico+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410012381089693138" border="0" /></a><br />Halloween. I was a Gold Digger :). My dress is a table cloth and my gold tights are..well, gold tights. I love having gold tights in my possession.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRtRtlIGjrGKHWAIAcNn8-Qqd6pkdM-Ue_6dqq2n1AI0KL9NZg0-TUCLR3fR0qzF7S9Y4kKPiIbX88VRqq9VehUfDMFquQMHrF7AWkCKE8zfInoKSegB5ATbgKcFoY5cgwPN0P804E0xW/s1600/Halloween+and+New+Mexico+003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRtRtlIGjrGKHWAIAcNn8-Qqd6pkdM-Ue_6dqq2n1AI0KL9NZg0-TUCLR3fR0qzF7S9Y4kKPiIbX88VRqq9VehUfDMFquQMHrF7AWkCKE8zfInoKSegB5ATbgKcFoY5cgwPN0P804E0xW/s320/Halloween+and+New+Mexico+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410012370531107282" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Jing and Kaylee weren't really anything...they just dressed up funny. My hair looks really big doesn't it? I kind of like it that way.<br /></div>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-30234401481476640982009-11-25T21:51:00.002-07:002009-11-25T22:14:58.903-07:00Skill MeIt has been almost a month since my last blog....I can feel the pressure from all my readers. If I don't post soon I'll lose your interest and may have to shut down my blog. I've been waiting because I lost the cord that connects my camera to the computer. I have some fairweather readers who will not read a blog unless it contains pictures. Sorry to give you a pictureless blog.<br /><br />The other day I was standing all day putting leather leaf and boxwood into a centerpiece. (Leather leaf and boxwood are names of greenery used in floral design). I spent 8 hours doing it and the centerpieces, turkeys, and cornucopia's seemed they would never end. I was working with a handful of other women, most of whom were married. One girl (not married but with a boyfriend) said after a long day, "who is going to go home and have their significant other give them a back rub?" I was the only person at the table without a significant other. I thought about it for a minute then I commented, "nah, I think I'll just go to Costco." Have you ever sat in the massage chairs at Costco? They massage better than any human being ever could. Who needs a boyfriend when you've got a Costco membership?<br /><br />I've started to realize that my instant reaction to a boys shoes may be hindering my ability to get to know the real man. As hard as it will be for me to overlook his shoes, I will try. Maybe I'll move on to things like, what are his skills? Does he play in a band? Does he run really fast? Can he sing? Does he have a black belt in karate? Is he an artist? Will he look good in our engagement picture? These are all important, wouldn't you say?<br /><br />Okay, okay, all kidding aside, I have been seriously contemplating how I am ruling out or in certain boys. The Lord says to Samuel, "Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for <i>the <span class="smallcaps">Lord seeth</span></i><sup><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></sup><a href="http://scriptures.lds.org/en/1_sam/16/7a" mark="a" type="A" title="Job 10: 4."><i></i></a> not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord<a href="http://scriptures.lds.org/en/1_sam/16/7d" mark="d" type="B" title="TG God, Omniscience."><span class="smallcaps"></span></a> looketh on the heart." The Lord doesn't look on the shoes or whether or not he plays the guitar--He sees straight to the heart. I'm grateful the Lord exercises this type of righteous judgment on me; for without it, my life full of mistakes would not allow me to measure up.<br /><br />I have a determination to avert my eyes from the shoes. I refuse to look at them. I promise to give every boy an equal chance, whether he has amazing nun chuck skills or not.Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-59871069860939806722009-10-27T14:43:00.004-06:002009-10-27T15:06:07.477-06:00The Asian in MeMy sweet roommate called to see if I wanted to go to the devotional at BYU with her. Seeing as how I am now jobless and have always enjoyed BYU forums and devotionals, I said yes. I got ready in 10 minutes flat and ran up to campus. It was a man named Greg Mortenson, author of the Best-selling book, "Three Cups of Tea: One man's mission to promote peace...One school at a time." He talked about the importance of educating the young people in impoverished countries. Especially, he says, young girls. He shared the African Proverb that if you educate a boy you educate an individual, but if you educate a woman, you educate a community. Brigham Young (the 2nd prophet of the LDS church) changed that a little when he said if you educate a woman, you educate a generation. I had a strong confirmation during Mr. Mortenson's speech that the opportunity a woman has to educate her children...or any children around her... is priceless.<br /><br />I have a roommate from China. Her name is Jing and she is SUCH a light and joy in my life. She is not a member of the LDS church, yet she attends school at BYU: a private LDS university. She is taking the discussions from the missionaries assigned to Asian investigators in Provo. She comes from zero religious background and is having a hard time knowing if she even believes there is a God. She doesn't know how to recognize the spirit if she is feeling it. Last week we sang "Joseph Smith's First Prayer" in Relief Society. Jing turned around at the end of the song and asked me and her visiting teacher what the song was called. Her visiting teacher said "you liked it didn't you?" Jing said she loved it! Her visiting teacher asked her how it made her feel and Jing said, "happy!" We told her that was the spirit. I was so happy. One of her missionaries is going home this week at the end of his 2 years. She cried and cried and couldn't really understand why. This girl is as pure as they come and I'm so grateful for her in my life.<br /><br />I used to say I never wanted to go to China or Japan or Korea...I just wasn't that interested in the Asian culture. I think someone is trying to teach me a lesson by filling my life with Asians. They are bringing out my inner Asian. Maybe I'd like to go to China and Japan after all.<br /><br />I was really in the mood the other week to entertain people, so we had a caramel apple party at my apartment. It was a huge success.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxJsB6g8PE4bL0hAdcZmVD4h4IV3Qh1-CbBkmOaU4b0LdL_3RCyokHAhyphenhyphen0U4ZCyr8ro8doAwRDRjlW5yl0YFu-GdbxGyqU8l_HLAwGNPDQqUhCHQhArNpwamxo_eDHUgaH_WFI4W4cnj2k/s1600-h/Caramel+Apple+003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxJsB6g8PE4bL0hAdcZmVD4h4IV3Qh1-CbBkmOaU4b0LdL_3RCyokHAhyphenhyphen0U4ZCyr8ro8doAwRDRjlW5yl0YFu-GdbxGyqU8l_HLAwGNPDQqUhCHQhArNpwamxo_eDHUgaH_WFI4W4cnj2k/s320/Caramel+Apple+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397387538828649842" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8B5JY-W1o4X2vkEiUFVB9QbZJFsezHb9P3ANcq6AimypZ6ygq-6vNz9sHiI-lrbX64SbFX14PbeQ_YNMYzWhu3lkcWfWQ2LEhTD-latxywtHYJ6dLqgxYxl3i6rkmKYlbtAKNEeQw2rj/s1600-h/Caramel+Apple+001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8B5JY-W1o4X2vkEiUFVB9QbZJFsezHb9P3ANcq6AimypZ6ygq-6vNz9sHiI-lrbX64SbFX14PbeQ_YNMYzWhu3lkcWfWQ2LEhTD-latxywtHYJ6dLqgxYxl3i6rkmKYlbtAKNEeQw2rj/s320/Caramel+Apple+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397387530972551890" border="0" />This is my Japanese friend Yohei...another Asian.</a><br /></div>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-52428098127150056892009-10-04T17:27:00.002-06:002009-10-04T17:42:29.280-06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnPCOKpnclf0i6gPXPRl-fUUhLxek_i7QbQ3z8b3zDF2JyqPP_pP5QSVPBlTg4Hg_9Pfpo2gAIjfPQvYz44X_09mKqhOvs0_xrnBRykMTYxznEV4XLDRezIt9lsGXBE7iFJCfcKx0Okp9z/s1600-h/Balloons+035.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnPCOKpnclf0i6gPXPRl-fUUhLxek_i7QbQ3z8b3zDF2JyqPP_pP5QSVPBlTg4Hg_9Pfpo2gAIjfPQvYz44X_09mKqhOvs0_xrnBRykMTYxznEV4XLDRezIt9lsGXBE7iFJCfcKx0Okp9z/s320/Balloons+035.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388894334660387378" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqbDAuiujNlSDKQO45lPQuxjFAOcn_EQHYQhe6L4CWLZ93E_azwFEkeEaAkg_L-uXbCtUKkHiNvZM8LUgn3s6z4IPvtrgQ3cB5zpYorxAuhNrZw5Gsegq76nAAxgjBybbcUsbsGn5NMH_/s1600-h/Balloons+032.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqbDAuiujNlSDKQO45lPQuxjFAOcn_EQHYQhe6L4CWLZ93E_azwFEkeEaAkg_L-uXbCtUKkHiNvZM8LUgn3s6z4IPvtrgQ3cB5zpYorxAuhNrZw5Gsegq76nAAxgjBybbcUsbsGn5NMH_/s320/Balloons+032.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388894326262701074" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50tq_GZcvtpMb6QsWgwBU17YSDivyAL03A4Ab9D8JaGjhNub7cBVQRVpuJzrYWG5-ndOPbp7s0TCyF_NX0JvXcAU-cEoMH8edtbpSNwfOewl_Z_KMCj2swaiIH6Ufs9JTpnQuWunYItNS/s1600-h/Balloons+029.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50tq_GZcvtpMb6QsWgwBU17YSDivyAL03A4Ab9D8JaGjhNub7cBVQRVpuJzrYWG5-ndOPbp7s0TCyF_NX0JvXcAU-cEoMH8edtbpSNwfOewl_Z_KMCj2swaiIH6Ufs9JTpnQuWunYItNS/s320/Balloons+029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388894319224992002" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu5msCy92CgI4t6LePOW559LZR0GUel8PsaLhy-biSKbzdTqe6sdxD3HVD2wsvcAcQq27Iep0fHM8YRrcb2cAQj9FCHX9VanPkEALVfGCgwTIUj6xKNIXgNIlrMd83-AZcjw7utIlI3r-n/s1600-h/Balloons+012.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu5msCy92CgI4t6LePOW559LZR0GUel8PsaLhy-biSKbzdTqe6sdxD3HVD2wsvcAcQq27Iep0fHM8YRrcb2cAQj9FCHX9VanPkEALVfGCgwTIUj6xKNIXgNIlrMd83-AZcjw7utIlI3r-n/s320/Balloons+012.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388894310780286834" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVpgH2TR5R_LfIPX8GdFX-12JMl3po40Z3b1F7gGnrkHMyEGOPmSew_VSVFQx8lt5j9oTK1Xy9p3d_gYtjR5qk-_mnxODQMgcJlzRegW0DBXHfecu6L4tbv1_6flfVRj1LS004mkUMTbY/s1600-h/Balloons+002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVpgH2TR5R_LfIPX8GdFX-12JMl3po40Z3b1F7gGnrkHMyEGOPmSew_VSVFQx8lt5j9oTK1Xy9p3d_gYtjR5qk-_mnxODQMgcJlzRegW0DBXHfecu6L4tbv1_6flfVRj1LS004mkUMTbY/s320/Balloons+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388894299606301666" /></a><br />I think I've told this story before. Oh well. When I was in New Zealand I attended a funeral of one of our friends from the branch, Brother Bennett. Sister Kawe-Small, the Relief Society president, bought a lot of helium balloons for us to write messages to Brother Bennett on. After his grave was dedicated and the service was over, sister Kawe-Small (who is Maori) delivered a Maori chant as we let go of our balloons and watched them float to heaven. It was an awesome experience. Well, yesterday my roommate Kaylee and I, in an attempt to find something fun to do, purchased helium balloons. We wrote messages to the world on them and took them to the park to release them. We didn't do a Maori chant but the experience was a fun one anyway. It was cool for me to think back on the experience with Sister Kawe-Small at Brother Bennett's grave. Kaylee and I had good time taking pictures and trying really hard to get good jumping pictures. We really struggled :).Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-47484030684015483462009-09-23T19:15:00.002-06:002009-09-23T19:17:39.525-06:00Dear Marathon, I DID IT, Love Abby<a href="http://www.jolesch.com/userView.aspx?ID=5267256&EventID=5063">View Image</a><br /><br />Shared via <a href="http://addthis.com">AddThis</a><br /><br />Click the words VIEW IMAGE to see the lovely pictures of me running and then Scroll down to read about My marathon experience.Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-60552477503020508202009-09-23T18:53:00.004-06:002009-09-23T19:08:56.240-06:00Dear Marathon, I DID IT, Love Abby<p class="MsoNormal">I couldn’t sleep the night before. I woke up almost every hour from <st1:time minute="0" hour="2">2:00 AM</st1:time> on.<span style=""> </span>Finally it was <st1:time minute="45" hour="4">4:45 AM</st1:time> and time to get ready. I slept in my running clothes and set out everything I would need before I went to sleep. Betsy (who also didn’t sleep, just for me) and Hannah drove me to the park where I caught the bus. I drove what must have been 30 minutes or so and chatted with the nice woman next to me. This was her third marathon. I was trying to take my mind off how long we were driving, because I knew I would be running the entire way back.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
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<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The bus stopped and I ran to the longest row of port-a-potties ever. Even though there were around 40 or 50, the line for each one was about 15 people long.<span style=""> </span>I waited and tried to warm my freezing limbs. I was trying not to think about how gross it was not only that I was going to pee in a port-a-potty but that I could see how many people had gone in before me to use the same pot. As I was trying to take my mind off my upcoming run, I began humming “tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag” from Mary Poppins. Talk about motivating.<span style=""> </span>Then, inspired by a story Hannah told me on the way to the bus, I started saying in my mind: I’m a runner, a <st1:place>MARATHON</st1:place> runner, my legs are strong, my feet are mobile. Cheesy or weird as that may sound, this little sentence proved to be a strong motivator.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
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<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The race started and I practically flew down the canyon. I started out way too fast because my legs already hurt by mile 10.<span style=""> </span>I finished 13 miles in 2 hours 3 minutes. My family was waiting for me at mile 17 where they took pictures and wrote my name in chalk on the sidewalk. When I hit mile 18 I started to struggle. I whipped out my ipod and sang at the top of my lungs. Also weird, but who cares, I was running 26.2 miles.<span style=""> </span>I continued to repeat my motivator: I’m a RUNNER….my legs are STRONG. After barely surviving until mile 23, I finally started to feel the finish.<span style=""> </span>I sped up and continued telling my self: MY LEGS <st1:stockticker>ARE</st1:stockticker> STRONG!<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mile 25 I went even faster and kept saying: I’M A MARATHON RUNNER..MY LEGS <st1:stockticker>ARE</st1:stockticker> STRONG, STRONG, STRONG. Only now I was almost screaming it.<span style=""> </span>I turned the corner and raced to the finish line where my family was stationed once again.<span style=""> </span>Thanks family, I love you guys. Stevie was there too! It was 3 years ago that I watched her cross the finish line of her first marathon…only she was much faster!<span style=""> </span>Total time: 4 hours 12 minutes but you can bet I NEVER STOPPED.<span style=""> </span>I loved it. My legs hurt like crazy but I’ll definitely run more marathons. I couldn’t wait to start running again and today my legs felt strong enough to go for a small run. YAY.</p>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENsH0iyHcTD9iiBcJiUAXyAi1lDquia7BABGuoP1r4g9d6jjEhDrQztbZXOfE70K676YfZ2oE_CU7Qy1P8dj6plvmI3JZAh2QY9LobvInhETH9jEP-LllMtTA0KF_5ae2_ykdyoRS22ez/s1600-h/MARATHON+032.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjENsH0iyHcTD9iiBcJiUAXyAi1lDquia7BABGuoP1r4g9d6jjEhDrQztbZXOfE70K676YfZ2oE_CU7Qy1P8dj6plvmI3JZAh2QY9LobvInhETH9jEP-LllMtTA0KF_5ae2_ykdyoRS22ez/s320/MARATHON+032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384832417395622002" border="0" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCuEHrMW4QJKf5Py5th-3u2_sHZBdWv2pXYf1ctO6ffN4fQ2PNb50hNtpR1oYMqIAFruIo1nzYDHmd0pwlFWJd5YgS7XbcEPIXlljhCt_Xh8eiqrfgAqbkjdDYphT05ZUm0_h7zAfcPfAo/s1600-h/MARATHON+030.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCuEHrMW4QJKf5Py5th-3u2_sHZBdWv2pXYf1ctO6ffN4fQ2PNb50hNtpR1oYMqIAFruIo1nzYDHmd0pwlFWJd5YgS7XbcEPIXlljhCt_Xh8eiqrfgAqbkjdDYphT05ZUm0_h7zAfcPfAo/s320/MARATHON+030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384832409943704434" border="0" /></a>
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<br /></p> Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-35199889473548863622009-09-17T21:21:00.003-06:002009-09-17T21:30:45.376-06:00A FirstIn exactly 24 hours from now, I will be 9.5 hours from embarking on what may be the hardest physical event I've ever participated in. Many have done it before, many will do it with me for the first time, and many will do it many more times to come. I am going to attempt to run 26.2 miles in under 4 hours without stopping. Under 4 hours isn't a fast pace by any means--my main goal is to finish without stopping. This being my first marathon I'm not really concerned about how fast I go. By 'not really concerned' I mean I'm trying REALLY HARD not to care. I don't like to get passed by other runners, so I'm working on some major brain tricks to control my ego to allow some people to pass me. Some people come out of a marathon swearing to never run again (like my dad for example). Dad says that after every marathon but he has run 7 or 8 in his life time. When I ran 20 miles I was loving it afterwards. I wonder if the extra 6.2 miles will make me swear to never run again.<br /><br />For those of you who won't be there in person cheering me on, at around 11:00 am just let out a little cheer wherever you are....I'll hear it. If you really feel bad about not being there in person, you could let out a big cheer instead of a little one. That would suffice.<br /><br />To be continued....Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-26000158236346295532009-09-14T20:58:00.004-06:002009-09-14T21:30:39.456-06:00Livin' It Up<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_BGBwx_FKpn_Ct6BjZ5AX9FNJu3-1aw1co4L6EX2tHoTS6gLKSywsOSvosLVdvTEPfZsTaqzko5Ze1910BXkZWGvymvBDw75QQcujB70GSNHSbhSZuLnKlI-NwKtK9UK3bz1a0d7__7i/s1600-h/JR+gallery+stroll.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_BGBwx_FKpn_Ct6BjZ5AX9FNJu3-1aw1co4L6EX2tHoTS6gLKSywsOSvosLVdvTEPfZsTaqzko5Ze1910BXkZWGvymvBDw75QQcujB70GSNHSbhSZuLnKlI-NwKtK9UK3bz1a0d7__7i/s320/JR+gallery+stroll.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381530953901253058" border="0" /></a><br />Me and JR partying at the Gallery Stroll<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdp-JuwIqYk3eiSzbbWvTOhpuDGfPihpxcHi7hKpD5LlUiNU-T3KwpAEIeAvZPhhbDTkY6yJ1YBunMEf209eGnoApn_zvhkdTdp4CyNGmf3CkfSQ65dJJD6o4RnKcmr2S-x6Mg7CH8ngcW/s1600-h/Picnic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdp-JuwIqYk3eiSzbbWvTOhpuDGfPihpxcHi7hKpD5LlUiNU-T3KwpAEIeAvZPhhbDTkY6yJ1YBunMEf209eGnoApn_zvhkdTdp4CyNGmf3CkfSQ65dJJD6o4RnKcmr2S-x6Mg7CH8ngcW/s320/Picnic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381530947992451506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbocd0XfPiwy0cwl17VOzwgn5qX3fKXzeig-Vmdax4eFb2EhSPeRWaj6i_JdYLxTJxPSQ8H2u1d2h5_jU-9Z8v1fgNshHifAYBbJcNHBMnkaw1bFkpwE1Xwdjiirf8ir59It_4PuqWnKz/s1600-h/Thomas-Abby+picnic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSbocd0XfPiwy0cwl17VOzwgn5qX3fKXzeig-Vmdax4eFb2EhSPeRWaj6i_JdYLxTJxPSQ8H2u1d2h5_jU-9Z8v1fgNshHifAYBbJcNHBMnkaw1bFkpwE1Xwdjiirf8ir59It_4PuqWnKz/s320/Thomas-Abby+picnic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381530922959835218" border="0" /></a>This is Thomas my cousin: he is leaving on a mission in less than a week!<br /><br /></div>I saw my favorite employee at the running store today. We laughed about how I have a picture of my family on my debit card and how he'd like one too--not a picture of my family, but of his. I told him I'd stop coming to the running store after my race this Saturday and he said "don't say that!" Okay, I thought, I'll come back. Everyday. How will I be able to come up with excuses to go into the running store if I am no longer training for a race? As I left the store he wished me luck...twice.<br /><br />I drove home, raced to put my running clothes on and started my run. I hoped it would start raining on me, and it did. I lengthened my run about 10 minutes just so I could stay in the rain a little longer. I passed a boy on a scooter and he laughed at me and made some comment about being soaked.<br /><br />I finished my run, stretched, talked to Jenny on the phone and then helped myself to a d.e.l.i.c.i.o.u.s piece of bread covered with peanut butter and honey. Is there anything better? MMMMmmmm.<br /><br />At the end of the night I went to Sonic to get a lemon berry real fruit slush. Do you know how many of those I've had in my life? Probably a million or more. I never get sick of them. Or maybe I just never get sick of driving to Sonic and being served by people on roller blades. The last 2 boys I dated made the comment that they had been to Sonic more times with me than they had been in their whole lives. I also made an appearance at my favorite grocery store, Macey's. I didn't buy anything I just walked around. I LOVE MACEY's (Kendall, that was for you).<br /><br />Now I sit on the floor in my bedroom, listening to my newly chosen blog playlist and writing about my day. I'm also thinking about all the little good things in my life. I don't love my job, but that's only part of who I am. There are a million or more wonderful things about everyday living and I'm so grateful for that!<br /><br />Oh darn, I can't find my running socks...I guess I'll have to go buy more.Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-26159023882728038682009-09-05T17:00:00.003-06:002009-09-05T17:22:29.755-06:00The Door Bell Ringers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv6YJny3pfiM1_Qj1aB_GPF3Alju-dOso1rQH14y_9Na_KZCW4U-7RVfmw4ZHzVQ5hzLn8FI5zaFXC6hBf_dny5fAmiGzOz8hNv4XDRpY_Q8Zo9bSfdBA7w1nz8IqLfTk738tvJaKXk5Ft/s1600-h/FijiSydneyMaggie+214.jpg"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMRWenpRVKEgP-sHs3TghN0F06SSuHNMNRU5atjfbXrmi-X5CcLKC2YpXGA58wBjh5XyuLD-BzvnYsnNxGxAUx3nD9XOgU97Q1a7JOTxy5-Om8jK8lrE-OxnAYuzCoAloikKvxfIQfymo/s1600-h/FijiSydneyMaggie+232.jpg"></a><br />The other day my doorbell rang 2times in a row. With each new ring came a very interesting surprise.<br /><br />Ring #1: I open the door and this boy holding a 1/2 full bottle of LA Looks gel pushes his way into the house. "I'm in dyer need" he says. He had just put 1/2 a bottle of gel in his hair and needed to borrow a blow dryer to make it stay slicked back. He was wearing pants that came up past his belly button and his shirt was tucked in. Apparently he was trying out for the ballroom team and needed to get his hair to stay slicked back. I grabbed my blow dryer and he used the living room mirror to get his hair in order.<br /><br />Ring #2: This time I opened the door to a girl. She said "i just noticed that you were growing things" as she pointed to our garden in the front yard. Lauren and Suzanne worked hard to plant our little garden and we harvest zucchini and tomatoes like crazy. I nodded my head and then the girl said, "i was just wondering if you're going to pick those things." Um, duh. I very happily said "Yes!" and she looked a little disappointed. She was scheming to get our vegetables. So I went into the kitchen and gave her a zucchini we picked like 2 weeks ago and sent her on her way. It made me wonder how many people are so kind as to pick our vegetables for us, without us ever knowing.<br /><br />Last night I walked the Gallery Stroll, sampled Latino food and did a little Latino dancing at the Latino Americano festival, did some more dancing at the Penny Royal cafe, and then went to sleep. I woke up at 5:10 AM to head up Diamond Fork Canyon for a 10-12 mile trail run. My favorite part of the run was dodging the mine field of cow pies, and then dodging the mine field of cows. Here are some pictures of Fiji.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH6-PGhanRNcndRc45LjwJjzaTl9jHeWGdE5KpzXAHyYq9aXfzYGJ5N2L82UXLC47NaGieOOHJo0jyBO__Ts89z2d-0ghk481JypQP-w4dEZErxArB_b1VNQtWefJRrprVakVfpv_zlZNH/s1600-h/Fiji+%286%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH6-PGhanRNcndRc45LjwJjzaTl9jHeWGdE5KpzXAHyYq9aXfzYGJ5N2L82UXLC47NaGieOOHJo0jyBO__Ts89z2d-0ghk481JypQP-w4dEZErxArB_b1VNQtWefJRrprVakVfpv_zlZNH/s320/Fiji+%286%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378127049150156978" border="0" /></a><br />This is Fiji. That water is warm all day long.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMRWenpRVKEgP-sHs3TghN0F06SSuHNMNRU5atjfbXrmi-X5CcLKC2YpXGA58wBjh5XyuLD-BzvnYsnNxGxAUx3nD9XOgU97Q1a7JOTxy5-Om8jK8lrE-OxnAYuzCoAloikKvxfIQfymo/s1600-h/FijiSydneyMaggie+232.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMRWenpRVKEgP-sHs3TghN0F06SSuHNMNRU5atjfbXrmi-X5CcLKC2YpXGA58wBjh5XyuLD-BzvnYsnNxGxAUx3nD9XOgU97Q1a7JOTxy5-Om8jK8lrE-OxnAYuzCoAloikKvxfIQfymo/s320/FijiSydneyMaggie+232.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378127031065826850" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">These are the frogs they raced at our resort in Fiji.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv6YJny3pfiM1_Qj1aB_GPF3Alju-dOso1rQH14y_9Na_KZCW4U-7RVfmw4ZHzVQ5hzLn8FI5zaFXC6hBf_dny5fAmiGzOz8hNv4XDRpY_Q8Zo9bSfdBA7w1nz8IqLfTk738tvJaKXk5Ft/s1600-h/FijiSydneyMaggie+214.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv6YJny3pfiM1_Qj1aB_GPF3Alju-dOso1rQH14y_9Na_KZCW4U-7RVfmw4ZHzVQ5hzLn8FI5zaFXC6hBf_dny5fAmiGzOz8hNv4XDRpY_Q8Zo9bSfdBA7w1nz8IqLfTk738tvJaKXk5Ft/s320/FijiSydneyMaggie+214.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378127042036736594" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">This is the sun set view from our resort.<br /></div>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-41875938096921610942009-08-29T14:31:00.002-06:002009-08-29T14:50:07.033-06:00Racoons, Fire, 20 Miles, and a Crush<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlEzTHfzINUViU6hVTGAlj0OMJOSw145Au6zzckN8PPRRfifeY26LmM8NP6OI0g2lmBSg1__DB5aT99EY4B3NCqZTdS_DMnO6eHwe5bM-3FYJqPyEH6NnXtb9Bwy3F9NAGkNGtGANWkDa_/s1600-h/Living+at+Lookout+001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlEzTHfzINUViU6hVTGAlj0OMJOSw145Au6zzckN8PPRRfifeY26LmM8NP6OI0g2lmBSg1__DB5aT99EY4B3NCqZTdS_DMnO6eHwe5bM-3FYJqPyEH6NnXtb9Bwy3F9NAGkNGtGANWkDa_/s320/Living+at+Lookout+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375487423997351634" border="0" /></a>RACCOON Crossing!!! I swear every animal in Provo has been genetically mutated to tolerate people a lot more than animals in most places in the country/world. I see deer, ducks and now raccoons just hanging out at their pleasure no matter who is around.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQG7V4i6fVgPifmdfSxlKXBsL5DT8nLm6Ca-VqHLvoxZmnaaHjEHb83lodLCNxF22E19XLFCjpa1M2oBjATPgMVHyZOa5oOWqk883pXvQODa95CQ_-VhviIS5NT34XAQBqxe2FBs2dMSU/s1600-h/Living+at+Lookout+004.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQG7V4i6fVgPifmdfSxlKXBsL5DT8nLm6Ca-VqHLvoxZmnaaHjEHb83lodLCNxF22E19XLFCjpa1M2oBjATPgMVHyZOa5oOWqk883pXvQODa95CQ_-VhviIS5NT34XAQBqxe2FBs2dMSU/s320/Living+at+Lookout+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375487428876213090" border="0" /></a><br />This is fire. I went to a bonfire last night. It was fun. I made new friends and roasted starbursts.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaxq8j1oqk8S7q2_TGsKzPoL6dMFgC9sueygJfvBfb1LJfT5lXA_3ymD-8ezwmozWuvaOITpzvWGcePYOEBZOMYdwaYlKqnh0eVa1TbGKkoEjzcRWsuJWT_xx-9cVjO8O0g9R0ytEsJzlc/s1600-h/Living+at+Lookout+007.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaxq8j1oqk8S7q2_TGsKzPoL6dMFgC9sueygJfvBfb1LJfT5lXA_3ymD-8ezwmozWuvaOITpzvWGcePYOEBZOMYdwaYlKqnh0eVa1TbGKkoEjzcRWsuJWT_xx-9cVjO8O0g9R0ytEsJzlc/s320/Living+at+Lookout+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375487443262643906" border="0" /></a><br />This is me being weird and my new roommate Erika (notice the fire behind us, we worked hard for that).<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_efSqUHbY_pMGG_OK1tOec7ps8n7F8bwPBnEQPoSoEi2QHtOFrsJTs1jgPEZMItodIFvp2ZZmb5KT0AmwwIvaCIoTi5S8ETGzycKX1o7hs1yQ3SdDcx1okAbQS2Z_FPJ3oKJSzSpcTPeH/s1600-h/Living+at+Lookout+008.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_efSqUHbY_pMGG_OK1tOec7ps8n7F8bwPBnEQPoSoEi2QHtOFrsJTs1jgPEZMItodIFvp2ZZmb5KT0AmwwIvaCIoTi5S8ETGzycKX1o7hs1yQ3SdDcx1okAbQS2Z_FPJ3oKJSzSpcTPeH/s320/Living+at+Lookout+008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375487871411465170" border="0" /></a><br />So we look like dead people, but the funny part of this picture is the stranger in the background who is absolutely LOVING her chip.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSivkMs8kx7FV_p6T8bAJ6eL1O885FHI3WR_0aGC5Te6TY6yIju5z3JxRUJTABcpWjJ8oN1MTmqmsUksWguVyGXoNMpsSfijh1ke6NW955_wChYsOMzotz672U33HtP7axvALMT3ndYULF/s1600-h/Living+at+Lookout+010.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSivkMs8kx7FV_p6T8bAJ6eL1O885FHI3WR_0aGC5Te6TY6yIju5z3JxRUJTABcpWjJ8oN1MTmqmsUksWguVyGXoNMpsSfijh1ke6NW955_wChYsOMzotz672U33HtP7axvALMT3ndYULF/s320/Living+at+Lookout+010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375487447702166626" border="0" /></a><br />This is what Jenny and I look like after running 20 MILES and eating french toast & egg sandwiches and Kneaders.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghT8XziQ9oZZFEkT6okNZdbc2ao63eYK9v5xxJUEI2tuNn-jE7u0_si0IGMvRLMAgm0m3VIhrAYqXMOwaB9-AfYS_qU7gE9v2076tFcrhfmcL2dhB1nx3oQoPzAl6mwP20AmaVnKrm9zkI/s1600-h/Living+at+Lookout+012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghT8XziQ9oZZFEkT6okNZdbc2ao63eYK9v5xxJUEI2tuNn-jE7u0_si0IGMvRLMAgm0m3VIhrAYqXMOwaB9-AfYS_qU7gE9v2076tFcrhfmcL2dhB1nx3oQoPzAl6mwP20AmaVnKrm9zkI/s320/Living+at+Lookout+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375487455371562018" border="0" /></a><br />These are my new running shoes. Brooks Ravenna. The guy at Runner's Corner who sold them to me was real excited about them (they're a new shoe and he thinks they're awesome). So I may have left the store with a slight crush on him. Jenny said she has to go to Runner's Corner sometime this week to buy socks---needless to say, I'll be going with her :).<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1dEJVO3A_6NXJVsXGl71KVGTSFSL-VhLrVcsFSpX1p3MEjNJcS55ZkTooXnqPQ-Rj8XlaWqrOKBI9LeNVw2pbj5mz763D9xxevyzQycvr9jGZt1SUAWaD5zrD1jwV_tviUtP_jnMu-Kd3/s1600-h/Living+at+Lookout+013.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1dEJVO3A_6NXJVsXGl71KVGTSFSL-VhLrVcsFSpX1p3MEjNJcS55ZkTooXnqPQ-Rj8XlaWqrOKBI9LeNVw2pbj5mz763D9xxevyzQycvr9jGZt1SUAWaD5zrD1jwV_tviUtP_jnMu-Kd3/s320/Living+at+Lookout+013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375487864988061842" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">When the Runner's Corner guy was talking to me about my shoes he told me the best thing about Brooks is they give this special advertisement in every box of shoes. It is paper that you can plant that will turn into a flower. I think that's cool, and I think I'll give it a try.<br /></div>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-17561602092393557842009-08-24T21:47:00.003-06:002009-08-24T22:02:20.166-06:00Leaving a Legacy: A No Pictures PostHaving a career is kind of hard. It's taking me some time to get used to the longer than 9 hour work days with no lunch break. I love being busy and I love having a job. I really love getting to know the students and their parents and making our high school run smoothly. Teachers will send students to the front office for something, like a visitor pass, or a tardy slip and we don't already have those things in place, so right then and there I get to make something up. I created our visitor passes, mail system, tardy/check-out slips, payment contracts, and our student planners. That's pretty cool. <br /><br />After feeling completely wasted at each day's end for the past 2 weeks, I have realized a couple things I need to change.<br /><br />1. Stop complaining. This morning I woke up with a new attitude. I didn't care how long I had to stay at work--I was going to be happy about it. And I was.<br /><br />2. My number one priority should always be my relationship with God. I can't allow myself to suffer spiritually because I'm tired or exhausted. I believe that if I will make a dedicated effort to continue studying my scriptures, serving, attending the temple and praying, that God will help everything else fall in to place. Spiritual things come first, then everything else.<br /><br />When I tried these things out today I was surprised at how much time I had to spare. I was able to go running, go to the store, fix dinner, read a little bit of a book and catch up on the blogs--and I even stayed an hour late at work. I made sure to drink lots of water at work and I ate a real lunch as well. It's amazing how much of a difference those small things make. <br /><br />The cool thing about my job is that when I no longer work at Merit Academy, what I have created will remain. They will always remember the first secretary they had who helped them get on their feet. I am creating a lasting legacy.Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-38466216711007440902009-08-16T16:54:00.005-06:002009-08-16T17:10:14.488-06:00Stoplight Entertainment<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2DsWpSCRjqq59ZE_hBYljf05PbmJz2FSlHl91lU0Vz_aUYvG9EinIPTpzEgPJyzfyTYgsH78llx5e-1SY6KC9ErnuuBlNsNmUj10TjjcIs5FzngcUDay6G7LAiPePJSsB8m4ZIA7JMLP/s1600-h/California+111.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370702212128151362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2DsWpSCRjqq59ZE_hBYljf05PbmJz2FSlHl91lU0Vz_aUYvG9EinIPTpzEgPJyzfyTYgsH78llx5e-1SY6KC9ErnuuBlNsNmUj10TjjcIs5FzngcUDay6G7LAiPePJSsB8m4ZIA7JMLP/s320/California+111.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBRABMwo2UHsC6DvRjreyfxwSd8e0ySsOjHlUJuxrKc1x4xhrUSzg6DcWzVZG753pjbjoPj-CUCfaXBKKBqEl96BntTUpiSDpfU8rsv7e5aNk82JIEFyIa0-pSWgs5fjaEkMaFitBT8iz0/s1600-h/California+084.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370702198684977330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBRABMwo2UHsC6DvRjreyfxwSd8e0ySsOjHlUJuxrKc1x4xhrUSzg6DcWzVZG753pjbjoPj-CUCfaXBKKBqEl96BntTUpiSDpfU8rsv7e5aNk82JIEFyIa0-pSWgs5fjaEkMaFitBT8iz0/s320/California+084.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdB0z763Kh1tBWSObXXXWW5wDK6tc8lW-SWIHhuXdvrg8me_xv47Hzxi5g1-XANak6hOXcJeCY9dYDX0Rv1Xvhrn20obzV49YoE6sb4gWGRcyjrAjahvFjlg7llTzaD87VHZxNXrnkOdY/s1600-h/California+078.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370702178744674514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdB0z763Kh1tBWSObXXXWW5wDK6tc8lW-SWIHhuXdvrg8me_xv47Hzxi5g1-XANak6hOXcJeCY9dYDX0Rv1Xvhrn20obzV49YoE6sb4gWGRcyjrAjahvFjlg7llTzaD87VHZxNXrnkOdY/s320/California+078.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOR1EYENG8Di9Vts5Zsm8kO0iGP4sDzbQPsjT8HL9H0dx9S11VkQj_sLSmXV35ZWPWPVgWH3y5ZROp6k4WXwmx-BoOPGEBzMgqqxLQRmkbpEStoIg50Xej2jYebDPRbQ8GhSDwoqvmdHE/s1600-h/California+074.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370702170917025778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOR1EYENG8Di9Vts5Zsm8kO0iGP4sDzbQPsjT8HL9H0dx9S11VkQj_sLSmXV35ZWPWPVgWH3y5ZROp6k4WXwmx-BoOPGEBzMgqqxLQRmkbpEStoIg50Xej2jYebDPRbQ8GhSDwoqvmdHE/s320/California+074.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODgN-zbJ0VjyJqBpb_fRFlxZofEl_lMuHYS8zUZA3kEZvp5sti44YFsy6u65OKbglvLdJAXlVCBLrv3Q1kS0HuTSA26gO5-ssPRD813H7qTI1EFWEIl3UdUp5-KWakU_I5-zcZ5oRHwHj/s1600-h/California+072.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370702164588820930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODgN-zbJ0VjyJqBpb_fRFlxZofEl_lMuHYS8zUZA3kEZvp5sti44YFsy6u65OKbglvLdJAXlVCBLrv3Q1kS0HuTSA26gO5-ssPRD813H7qTI1EFWEIl3UdUp5-KWakU_I5-zcZ5oRHwHj/s320/California+072.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Whhhhhhhheeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. That was me exhaling. I am the front desk secretary at a charter high school in Springville and our first day of school is tomorrow so we have been working hard to prepare. We got a new school building that we couldn't move in to until Wednesday of last week, and then we had a back to school night at the building the next day.<br /><br /></div><div>Yesterday I was stopped at a stop light and was surprised to enjoy some high quality entertainment. There was a woman (I think) holding a sign for Little Ceasar's pizza dancing around on the side walk. I have only seen cartoons dancing the way this woman could. She would shoot her legs out to the side really fast one after the other and then she shot them out a little higher. She was doing grapevine's and step-together-steps to the left and right. All of a sudden she shot her left leg back behind her and did this weird bend with it like a snake. All of her movements were short and fast and quite hilarious. The funny thing about this is she was just dancing to her own beat--there were NO headphones in her ears and no stereo system playing music. How did she DO that?<br /><br /></div><div>I spent some time in California with my oldest bro and his family. We did a little sword fighting and I did some rear-end-kicking. Mom caught our sweet action on camera which is what you enjoyed at the beginning of this post. </div></div></div></div></div>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-6204056414511326322009-07-26T19:20:00.003-06:002009-07-28T17:59:29.173-06:00The Premature Romantic DinnerSometimes I sit up at night and rack my brain for something to blog about. That's when I know either I'm not having enough fun or I'm not bringing my camera around enough. I feel like I've been doing a lot of fun things lately, so it must be the latter.<br /><br />Saturday I went on a date with my friend Adam to the Spanish Fork Rodeo. I made us dinner before and my sweet best friend Jenny picked a few things up from the store for me for our dinner because I was at a family reunion. When I came home I found that she had also set the table for me! She included a vase of pink and red roses, floating candles and rose pedals all over the table, wine glasses and a Lego candy heart. What a good friend wouldn't you say?<br /><br />Unfortunately it is a little too early to be having a romantic dinner with my friend Adam, so I laughed and then quickly re-arranged our table setting, switched the cups, moved the roses and destroyed the Lego heart. My roommate Mikayla came home and saw the table setting before I had and she told me she was thinking "oh no Abby, that's TOO much you can't do that!" She was glad to hear it wasn't me after all.<br /><br />Here are some incredibly attractive pictures of Jenny and I at my b-day celebration a few weeks ago:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdevytwplDjxCG3dcbvcnbRzHorAlsx6j7vw-Ay6F3EqWiMVWMHsNZ9RBIbnsde-MCz3RYZTz9Gv2dq3S187Qn0tU8oVAZwXFMoUBcG-fXwK7bB1hYv6Rv3Qhh37udaAidg3BF-BGJrxQ/s1600-h/Birthday+003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdevytwplDjxCG3dcbvcnbRzHorAlsx6j7vw-Ay6F3EqWiMVWMHsNZ9RBIbnsde-MCz3RYZTz9Gv2dq3S187Qn0tU8oVAZwXFMoUBcG-fXwK7bB1hYv6Rv3Qhh37udaAidg3BF-BGJrxQ/s320/Birthday+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363664468998395378" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6SbxcsI2NZ-_UjSb3Ed9u1P87dEOuhHwp9NBh_XSb1AGVJnWlGbgJlqdl_Ho1SfNdcNdRzdsDgmls_I6LDCOVZI_8zmgVldcKhb_uo760dhPT4XqRc-v-JXX0_Xif9uI9B6_GZXwCQmt/s1600-h/Birthday+012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6SbxcsI2NZ-_UjSb3Ed9u1P87dEOuhHwp9NBh_XSb1AGVJnWlGbgJlqdl_Ho1SfNdcNdRzdsDgmls_I6LDCOVZI_8zmgVldcKhb_uo760dhPT4XqRc-v-JXX0_Xif9uI9B6_GZXwCQmt/s320/Birthday+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363664458520163954" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_Yi6GM2ZxZSz2A1BcsG0c96AxKgnhRN35vh0YyvJUNnlCqFYdBOnBwz0fNKF8Wu4uoznqXclkMYuZj0kVdHK4_L2YifYpSPQu3oC0YfshkJGB1qvqsfKrdgV8vZNYeSLdXEnI1It8YW1/s1600-h/Birthday+005.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_Yi6GM2ZxZSz2A1BcsG0c96AxKgnhRN35vh0YyvJUNnlCqFYdBOnBwz0fNKF8Wu4uoznqXclkMYuZj0kVdHK4_L2YifYpSPQu3oC0YfshkJGB1qvqsfKrdgV8vZNYeSLdXEnI1It8YW1/s320/Birthday+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363664451018493346" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8HbRTDsc0iRvQktrIMvsMzpTReR0wtbf2CmZnlq3cjyzfxAdjwMrGeO0OPLmD3-wyEeb12oSIad1MBmVVmaqo-4raUgT3_Hf-v1W9G_yPVWBF7wcCSpxJqNB8aeWrjwZaDq-7jyMfhDVv/s1600-h/Birthday+014.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8HbRTDsc0iRvQktrIMvsMzpTReR0wtbf2CmZnlq3cjyzfxAdjwMrGeO0OPLmD3-wyEeb12oSIad1MBmVVmaqo-4raUgT3_Hf-v1W9G_yPVWBF7wcCSpxJqNB8aeWrjwZaDq-7jyMfhDVv/s320/Birthday+014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363664773337211538" border="0" /></a>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-38837956920605940092009-07-08T16:10:00.003-06:002009-07-08T16:25:41.016-06:00Freedom Run<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQgPBH_UaC1YvEm9N9pGjPyz_rFEOe2A3WYycn7tsK-or0nX5AQrU-V0HgsdKMC9mpjBAtqIJO9nfusm4dc0d30_6q3G4uybFRCN28yuDLV4iV7b9I434cBXo3g2sPIOpMsFNbHKZpZuc/s1600-h/July+4th+%281%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQgPBH_UaC1YvEm9N9pGjPyz_rFEOe2A3WYycn7tsK-or0nX5AQrU-V0HgsdKMC9mpjBAtqIJO9nfusm4dc0d30_6q3G4uybFRCN28yuDLV4iV7b9I434cBXo3g2sPIOpMsFNbHKZpZuc/s320/July+4th+%281%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356218016087234210" border="0" /></a><br />This year for the 4th of July I decided to celebrate my freedom by running a 10k. I didn't feel like it would really be much of a celebration unless I got some kind of prize at the end. So I went ahead and came in 2nd place out of 97 women in my age division. They gave me a sweet crystal with an eagle and American flag inside of it. Actually, I didn't plan on placing, I was just running so fast that it kind of happened. In reality it wasn't THAT fast but fast enough compared to everyone else running in my age division. I made a patriotic tutu which you can see in the pictures below. I swear that is what made me run so fast. Will I ever place again in a race? Probably not, but heck at least I did it once in my life right?<br /><br />Also to celebrate the 4th I watched 10 people take an oath of citizenship and finally become citizens of the United States of America. It was so patriotic.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fymt3Sd_Hv6xj31FFT6N3_cVZO6RUtO2V4-2CvuQKcLHJ_2vBCu-uC26Dwr3ii_aLSMwyT0mGxx80v27FIw8hW2WipsOWcPnvLL4UoaVbXAUHwLxg2ecRrPKXTmQT5sk00_apzi__079/s1600-h/July+4th+%286%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fymt3Sd_Hv6xj31FFT6N3_cVZO6RUtO2V4-2CvuQKcLHJ_2vBCu-uC26Dwr3ii_aLSMwyT0mGxx80v27FIw8hW2WipsOWcPnvLL4UoaVbXAUHwLxg2ecRrPKXTmQT5sk00_apzi__079/s320/July+4th+%286%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356218035666167282" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrHfRVz6_MJqxGo1NjAn8uGsxHdmuxKgLVa8Sw8OA42DQhJVKo6yMUsXhTSY04xdKYvqcuohzThIBxAdoL5xaIjoWX35S4Muhr9j6S3JDUQ0T40UTMOQtA5lYczJUTsbLuzPT1DhEbcrBg/s1600-h/Stewart+Falls+020+%285%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrHfRVz6_MJqxGo1NjAn8uGsxHdmuxKgLVa8Sw8OA42DQhJVKo6yMUsXhTSY04xdKYvqcuohzThIBxAdoL5xaIjoWX35S4Muhr9j6S3JDUQ0T40UTMOQtA5lYczJUTsbLuzPT1DhEbcrBg/s320/Stewart+Falls+020+%285%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356218037651638594" border="0" /></a><br />This is Mallory and me up at Stewart Falls--I just thought I'd throw this one in to the mix.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCorefBy4SFAy5jnBYzPkkINJ-Dx1_jNklAxWHWOrq4yXpPUtLVOt5yd9ctIpYR5dJzdNt4xFjBF-R0czsbUAJ4EbebL2mPJirAvX_XkpOEkEcKOWnDO81wRAZHXq4PurvdIrrLm8Cizke/s1600-h/July+4th+%288%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCorefBy4SFAy5jnBYzPkkINJ-Dx1_jNklAxWHWOrq4yXpPUtLVOt5yd9ctIpYR5dJzdNt4xFjBF-R0czsbUAJ4EbebL2mPJirAvX_XkpOEkEcKOWnDO81wRAZHXq4PurvdIrrLm8Cizke/s320/July+4th+%288%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356218031100951410" border="0" /></a><br />Here is my tutu and the shirt we got for running the race. I'm trying to have a really patriotic face in this picture.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCjBLngJYxWkdPyn1cXiPNvpqUaNECsgOEplHGOCBZfQ7Qd5aOjjzYDpKGiMkLJ03i-rY1uly-sDkTU-KOM2YcVSmhyvr8xdcEFPBA7nR8GZHvG7abZD91MfQ-vuia8wZ4z6ePPSc4OdYA/s1600-h/July+4th+%287%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCjBLngJYxWkdPyn1cXiPNvpqUaNECsgOEplHGOCBZfQ7Qd5aOjjzYDpKGiMkLJ03i-rY1uly-sDkTU-KOM2YcVSmhyvr8xdcEFPBA7nR8GZHvG7abZD91MfQ-vuia8wZ4z6ePPSc4OdYA/s320/July+4th+%287%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356218020262468066" border="0" /></a><br />Jenny, Stephen (my friend), Me, and Thomas (Jenny's cousin, so practically my cousin too).<br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcDRLmGvvsUzxbJzTOQNFWplF56kNGBtR3pOCPVopihaqJtCh9qXZMiah3lR38ZVTm201FAbhrvpngX6GalqaeQTE0QHFDeYkdDqEovNxxwJOYQac1UmG_fiuy05MTAkbM-Xb9DM7HDOB/s1600-h/July+4th+%2810%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcDRLmGvvsUzxbJzTOQNFWplF56kNGBtR3pOCPVopihaqJtCh9qXZMiah3lR38ZVTm201FAbhrvpngX6GalqaeQTE0QHFDeYkdDqEovNxxwJOYQac1UmG_fiuy05MTAkbM-Xb9DM7HDOB/s320/July+4th+%2810%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356218891780643330" border="0" /></a><br />This is my victory crystal.<br /></div>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1291145531452385156.post-11491221748594211922009-06-26T15:11:00.003-06:002009-06-26T15:25:09.198-06:00My Day with BriggI got to spend a whole day with my nephew Brigg in Logan. This is what we did:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT9VI08jK_2ZRXcqM2dIKBmnPY63efEZxDd50FazHJ6fHfc_poNYdnC4i5GwC_3LMwziXMpf4Roz2vmuS5KEAsHEKnpliCaIHqktFeHTF4cQ7A49W9S2iqfvmC8pA0Dghyphenhypheng20hyphenhyphenAhWl6fz/s1600-h/My+day+with+Brigg+%2840%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT9VI08jK_2ZRXcqM2dIKBmnPY63efEZxDd50FazHJ6fHfc_poNYdnC4i5GwC_3LMwziXMpf4Roz2vmuS5KEAsHEKnpliCaIHqktFeHTF4cQ7A49W9S2iqfvmC8pA0Dghyphenhypheng20hyphenhyphenAhWl6fz/s320/My+day+with+Brigg+%2840%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351749543675355554" border="0" /></a><br />We visited Utah State University<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyYiRZDD1NtPYHAv8DY-MpjxsZwK_tcU8lzgllXyCIHvhwyMnbqtn9udCkZs7aQpybeK_1ymoIxXWLgyzTpdMZisNfcu7x5bcKWuPxjeHmEnVcCZC27peYV2X4b1e38ZJkIZUWNE7h71X/s1600-h/My+day+with+Brigg+%2826%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyYiRZDD1NtPYHAv8DY-MpjxsZwK_tcU8lzgllXyCIHvhwyMnbqtn9udCkZs7aQpybeK_1ymoIxXWLgyzTpdMZisNfcu7x5bcKWuPxjeHmEnVcCZC27peYV2X4b1e38ZJkIZUWNE7h71X/s320/My+day+with+Brigg+%2826%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351749531497438882" border="0" /></a><br />We swung on swings at Adam's Park<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOd0LBuL4WmrbRYy-yEcMtnxaqUBHcryCYrcriytlHwkg30nUKEccXMBhKOyiw1T_gLahhTuG5A_mbzJA_gpusJwbFpJrbt_gDTg287J1XWETauU511ftQRBTyloJTdsKuqiB83nUHqjOa/s1600-h/My+day+with+Brigg+%2813%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOd0LBuL4WmrbRYy-yEcMtnxaqUBHcryCYrcriytlHwkg30nUKEccXMBhKOyiw1T_gLahhTuG5A_mbzJA_gpusJwbFpJrbt_gDTg287J1XWETauU511ftQRBTyloJTdsKuqiB83nUHqjOa/s320/My+day+with+Brigg+%2813%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351749531032437570" border="0" /></a><br />We went to the Logan Temple (my favorite) and this light was his favorite.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpuNM93P7S6SecREbOxbJjPkPgKVyojmNQfncLEI1ipkn2LG7B7e6RcmkfR-46bRuAiW9olxf9kY0BH9Vjt2xGh2-_tkFfKzYm4sQNUNC7k-_m7e9Xb3NVY4COeXEyAVQXPFFKn4DcUUX/s1600-h/My+day+with+Brigg+%2815%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpuNM93P7S6SecREbOxbJjPkPgKVyojmNQfncLEI1ipkn2LG7B7e6RcmkfR-46bRuAiW9olxf9kY0BH9Vjt2xGh2-_tkFfKzYm4sQNUNC7k-_m7e9Xb3NVY4COeXEyAVQXPFFKn4DcUUX/s320/My+day+with+Brigg+%2815%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351749520641753938" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-qc3EDL_RgOkX1_JkGV10nvqkjfcrFlsmrrZiYx9b3LAFKryHJs5aIRpOxJkPOsLmCZJIopMXB8earMGiyTeG2eVRyCVUsTtZoH6iJUAWn-ZRjj8WEeDrVrmsT_9Cq-NZw7I-jsS6DvNR/s1600-h/My+day+with+Brigg+%281%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-qc3EDL_RgOkX1_JkGV10nvqkjfcrFlsmrrZiYx9b3LAFKryHJs5aIRpOxJkPOsLmCZJIopMXB8earMGiyTeG2eVRyCVUsTtZoH6iJUAWn-ZRjj8WEeDrVrmsT_9Cq-NZw7I-jsS6DvNR/s320/My+day+with+Brigg+%281%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351749514709192482" border="0" /></a>Then we went shopping...<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1hAZPmGLyfLVqzvusJ95iVtL-Pz5tWs3BsYFGVkt02WlyczoxPKfLCMdncZO1r-KlJ1y6VyNITEAFpldQkWb9pR1Dfaxv2RLbcz7RnIf-d0c1L1UdIbAJvC2-XUgeipqO716TGIU6ZkDx/s1600-h/My+day+with+Brigg+%2847%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1hAZPmGLyfLVqzvusJ95iVtL-Pz5tWs3BsYFGVkt02WlyczoxPKfLCMdncZO1r-KlJ1y6VyNITEAFpldQkWb9pR1Dfaxv2RLbcz7RnIf-d0c1L1UdIbAJvC2-XUgeipqO716TGIU6ZkDx/s320/My+day+with+Brigg+%2847%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351749735503474642" border="0" /></a><br />And then we ordered pizza! He ate 2 pieces :).<br /></div>Abby Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18023683173021295040noreply@blogger.com1