<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778</id><updated>2011-08-02T09:55:25.894-07:00</updated><category term='loss'/><category term='klee'/><category term='vit A'/><category term='career'/><category term='quitting smoking'/><category term='me'/><category term='dream'/><category term='lost'/><category term='Dreams'/><category term='food'/><category term='opera'/><category term='success'/><title type='text'>Adventures in Letting it Die</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-5196082479511991389</id><published>2010-05-10T13:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T13:36:06.242-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='career'/><title type='text'>Application to Michael's</title><content type='html'>Michael's application: "Describe why you love arts &amp;amp; crafts."&lt;div&gt;My answer:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;Arts and crafts are my joie de vivre.  As a kid, I used to sit with my grandmother while she knit or needlepointed in front of her soaps.  When I was a teenager, and my grandmother's health was deteriorating, I sought out knitting lessons at the historical Myers house in Florissant.  Needlecrafts and yarn projects thus became my way of being close to her after she was gone.  Meanwhile, I thrived as an art student from junior high all the way to Loyola University, where I graduated with a Bachelor of Fine Arts for drawing and painting in 2005.  In college I also took up jewelry making, studying metalwork and learning beadwork techniques independently with a friend.  What they say about beads is true, they age well and even on the worst day, you can look at your beads and feel good.  Bookmaking is more of an interest for me, while scrapbooking is my mother's passion; well, scrapbooking and Michael's 40% off coupons.  Papercrafts have become an activity we can bond over.  Even if we are at odds otherwise, we can always collaborate on a scrapbooking endeavor.  Arts &amp;amp; crafts are something I enjoy, have a talent for, and serve a deep-seeded social function in my life as a way of coming together with family members &amp;amp; friends.  Because they are my happy place, it's easy for me to spread my enthusiasm to other people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-5196082479511991389?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/5196082479511991389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2010/05/application-to-michaels.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/5196082479511991389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/5196082479511991389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2010/05/application-to-michaels.html' title='Application to Michael&apos;s'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-5657116000982891848</id><published>2010-02-21T21:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T22:14:33.457-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loss'/><title type='text'>Death &amp; Things</title><content type='html'>Today I found out that one of my best friend's best friends died a few days ago in a car accident.   This person was someone I knew, liked well, and considered a friend also.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.  It's weird how terrible news like this instantaneously shook my thoughts around like beans in a jar and rearranged my perspective.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.  I usually am aware of feeling adrenaline and anger in my arms, like a physical pain from emotions running through my veins.  Today for the first time I noticed grief in them.  After my initial reaction had a little time to settle - concern for my bestie and the gravity of this loss for him - I felt loss of my own.  This was someone I loved and respected, also.  Grant Folland was kind-hearted and enjoyably intellectual.  His voice has been in and out of my head all day, and I caught myself automatically smiling when I tried to visualize him standing in front of me.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.  "When a parent dies, you are left having to go through &lt;b&gt;all&lt;/b&gt; of their belongs, all of their crap, because that's what it becomes...  You may love some of this crap because its remind you of them.  It never becomes more clear, though, that it really is crap than at that moment because &lt;b&gt;none &lt;/b&gt;of these &lt;b&gt;things &lt;/b&gt;will &lt;b&gt;bring them back&lt;/b&gt;."  Helping me, and being overwhelmed by all of my belongings that she doesn't care about, my mom summed it up pretty well today.  I have to get to NYC asap.  In order to do that, I have to finish packing, complete a garage sale, and set up the craft room at the new house.  I've been pussyfooting around facing my belongings and getting rid of things I'm attached to, but don't &lt;b&gt;need &lt;/b&gt;need, for almost 2 months.  Today I was more productive than I have been in weeks.  I'm open to getting rid of a lot more things now, if I think it can help me buy a plane ticket.  As much as this death is a loss, the motivation is a gift.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Oh man, it sucks though.  It really, really sucks. ...  This was a great mind, a good person, a life unlived, and a family that must bear the loss.  My mind says, "No!", when I'm reminded of the realization.  Not to mention that one of my support stems just lost one of his.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-5657116000982891848?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/5657116000982891848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2010/02/death-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/5657116000982891848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/5657116000982891848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2010/02/death-things.html' title='Death &amp; Things'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-3447549108402556867</id><published>2010-01-22T06:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T08:01:11.420-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quitting smoking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>I woke up with kaleidoscope eyes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;p.s. this entry is s'allabout me&lt;/div&gt;I dreamt that I was continuing a fictional facebook conversation with a friend.  In ICanHasCheezburger talk, I was informing her that if we were going to be planets, it was I to be Earth, not Mars.  Woke up with a flood of one-line thoughts and now they're all gone, to remember that the planet dream.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The one good thing about Katrina is that when I go to google today, there is a link right there, saying, "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.google.com/aclk?sa=L&amp;amp;ai=CnYoOa7BZS8_rK5PCNKD2xL4K5Z-jnAGB2MWPD8HZnNkTEAEgwVRQjYvG8QJgyQaqBHJP0EFcIHALSZ0M_SwNk5xTUOGLQWWmyaBb555OSzupU2NoKHeLVAAU3rgQn_LU11AtAeBfDfwkFcu3o6_198ssDZEl0don6KkA6dW6Nvhm3hwFVFlmMfFhc1eLlc54bEi0WWug-2bTXjpoE6U91d-JY0Q&amp;amp;num=1&amp;amp;sig=AGiWqtwH0qeAKYY15x8psOcavhnArVqgYA&amp;amp;q=http://www.google.com/relief/haitiearthquake/" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; "&gt;Information, resources, and ways you can help&lt;/a&gt; survivors of the Haiti earthquake."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's been two months since I quit smoking and I am absolutely insane.  It's great.  ...well no, it's absolutely difficult.  It is as if a whole lot of repressed crazy is now publicly visible that cigarettes had previously kept at bay.  I cry easily, feel road rage now, and have to find other ways to cope with anxiety.  I think I got one speeding ticket 10 years ago.  In the past year, I've gotten FOUR, each of them within the first 14 days of not smoking (it's taken a few tries- I think the average is six-I'm talking about six balls-to-the-wall, Wholehearted never-agains) Hi.  So, I don't speed anymore and I appreciate the boring power of cruise control, and driving at night I become jerkingly paranoid that every vehicle approaching from the rear is about to pull me over, then I realize I'm driving 64mph, not to mention how boring it can be when you can't smoke.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; A lot of people say quitting smoking is the hardest thing they've ever done, and I was looking forward to accomplishing the hardest thing they've ever done.  But I don't think so.  It's just the beginning.  The worst part of not smoking is giving up control.  I know I'm going to get upset or cry, &lt;i&gt;in front of someone&lt;/i&gt;, and I don't know when it will happen or what will trigger it.  (Um, getting a ticket is a trigger).  So to speak in riddles...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's like I've let the crazy aerate and I don't want anybody to see it, for fear of being judged and discovering a false friendship.  Instead I'm discovering that I have the best friends and acquaintances in the world, every time I'm forced to share a negative experience with someone, and they reveal themselves as compassionate and, even nonjudmentally seeing through my bullshit, calling an ace an ace.  Having a witness in the room naturally forces me to acknowledge that I'm the one driving myself crazy, and it's okay to just stop.  And kind of, I go to great lengths to try and not seem paranoid ("I'm sure everyone thinks I'm paranoid.") or too emotional, or whatever.  But it's really only in being exposed that things go away.  I don't think I have just one guardian angel, I think I have several.  Sometimes I feel like Selena Kyle or Dr. Jekyll waking up after an episode as Catwoman/Hyde.  Except it isn't Batman that saves me.  I do.  And when I can't, someone else ALWAYS does.  So basically, it's been two months now and I just moved back to St. Louis and my life is full of big changes and I'm scared shitless, even though I'm not, I am, I was, subconsciously, and it freaked out of me and there was a witness and friend-in-need-friend-indeed stuff and totally humbling=Balancing.  poof.  and the crazy is gone.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In conclusion, I think I need to jump out of a plane.  But just thinking about it terrifies me.  Just thinking about it.  Maybe I'll watch Vertigo today.  OH!  I finally finished watching Stephen King's It, the reason I'm afraid of clowns.  It took me three days to finish, but I did and it was a good thing.  *spoiler alert*...?...I'm not a fan that the predator revealed itself as a giant, sinister-looking spider.  This paragraph can be summarized by Suze Orman, something about her being a firm believer that action is the ONLY way to dispel fear, fog, or confusion.  Obama says something in Audacity of Hope about how folks are folks and rich people do want the poor to get rich, and poorer people he finds more often have higher levels of self-criticism and higher expectations.  (I'm talking myself up because am dealing with all of my belongings from my entire hoarding packrat life that have now collected into one overwhelmingly crammed basement and surrounding areas.  *faint*)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The only way out is through, and it always seems to be a messy, exposing, humbling shitshow that I'm glad happened.  So will the next month be.  It's nice to be back in STL, traveling was fun, kind of can't wait to get settled though-moving in a month, and I love not working but I'm kind of ready for a source of income.  Once again, solutions all point to stripping.:)  The end.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-3447549108402556867?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/3447549108402556867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-woke-up-with-kaleidoscope-eyes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/3447549108402556867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/3447549108402556867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-woke-up-with-kaleidoscope-eyes.html' title='I woke up with kaleidoscope eyes'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-1096881151709324632</id><published>2009-06-12T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T09:58:23.170-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreams'/><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;Repeating themes:  Disaster at my alma mater, Witnessing Space Launch Fail, Apocalypse, Violence, Death, Begins in day &amp;amp; ends in night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;I had pretty intricately violent dream last night about zombies infecting the entire population of London/NYC/Loyola University Chicago which were the same place.  On a sunny afternoon, I watched one rocket take off without a hitch.  The second took off and slowly lost velocity and I watched the fire in its butt go off and it fall out of the sky and explode less than a mile in front of me.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;Wounds on victims turned purple-bluish dead color and these sick/deceased people immediately turned aggressively homicidal a la Dawn of the Dead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;This escapade ended with me and a few other women taking off from my modern-style glass-walled iron-gated mansion on motor cycles as the last living souls in London. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Only reason it's significant is what's going on in my life right now and how repeating themes arise throughout the years.  Restless sleep enables me to remember colors and details...instead of flowing through emotions in a dream, the baseline emotion is fear and my eyes are wide open in the dream, recording everything in minute detail.  The inventory they are taking ---&gt; witness to disaster, mass destructions, personal danger.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I'm afraid I might be making the wrong decision about directions in my life.  I'm afraid that  passively pussyfooting under clouding fears, passing time might make a decision for me. ...ehh ehhh! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;=&gt;rockets explode before me in my dreams.  The last time this happened, in my dream I watched the rocket from my grandparents' shady front porch.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;In my life at the time, I was stressed over finals and declaring a major.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-1096881151709324632?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/1096881151709324632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/06/dreams.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/1096881151709324632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/1096881151709324632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/06/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-7240579170981270469</id><published>2009-05-15T06:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T06:29:37.501-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Starbucks</title><content type='html'>I think those baristas at the coffee shop in the morning are crazy hyped on coffee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, the patrons have not had their daily dose yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like droids and jumping beans, and a counter in between.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-7240579170981270469?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/7240579170981270469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/05/starbucks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/7240579170981270469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/7240579170981270469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/05/starbucks.html' title='Starbucks'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-842276707166832192</id><published>2009-05-14T08:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T09:02:47.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Playing a Musical Instrument</title><content type='html'>1. Lower-Level Brain Structure&lt;br /&gt;a. reticular formation&lt;br /&gt;b. medulla&lt;br /&gt;c. cerebellum&lt;br /&gt;2. Description of How the Lower-Level Structure Is Involved in Musical Performance&lt;br /&gt;a. The reticular formation keeps Steve awake and alert during the performance.&lt;br /&gt;b. The medulla keeps Steve's heart beating and lungs breathing by sending neural messages through the autonomic peripheral nervous system.&lt;br /&gt;c. Controls the muscles of Steve's fingers strumming the guitar.&lt;br /&gt;3. Upper-Level Brain Structure&lt;br /&gt;a. temporal lobes&lt;br /&gt;b. sensory cortex, parietal lobe&lt;br /&gt;c. motor cortex, parietal lobe&lt;br /&gt;4. Description of How the Upper-Level Structure Is Involved in Musical Performance&lt;br /&gt;a. The temporal lobes interpret the sound Steve is playing, so he knows if he's off or not.&lt;br /&gt;b. When his fingernail strums the guitar, Steve's feels the sensation through his sensory cortex, telling him how hard or soft he is strumming.&lt;br /&gt;c. Steve's motor cortex transmits signals his fingers to play accordingly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-842276707166832192?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/842276707166832192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/05/playing-musical-instrument.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/842276707166832192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/842276707166832192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/05/playing-musical-instrument.html' title='Playing a Musical Instrument'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-461660485200143340</id><published>2009-04-13T16:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T16:56:02.912-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lost'/><title type='text'>So, how's your girl?</title><content type='html'>What should I do with my life?  Where should I live?  Why can't I find a man?  These are the questions that plague me on a daily basis.  The third one... deleted!  Not important!  The second one... depends on the first, so don't worry for now.  The first question... so I pushed the possibilities of my current position to its max, and I'm looking at what to do next.  I know I want to be challenged.  I know I need to be able to flex my intellectual muscles to be happy and maybe specialization is a good idea for me.  I've been thinking a lot about law school.  I think maybe I've been surrounded by law students for so long I think this might make me happy.  I think I automatically gravitate toward it because it seems legitmate and challenging, and I'm hungry.  I don't think law school is the answer &lt;a href="http://lawandletters.blogspot.com/2007/11/why-you-shouldnt-go-to-law-school.html"&gt;http://lawandletters.blogspot.com/2007/11/why-you-shouldnt-go-to-law-school.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F u, law schooL!  so what should I do?  Art therapy vs.  Business Administration?  That is the arena we face today.  I am interested in art therapy and helping people.  I'm kind of more interested is building something and growing it, like a business.  Museums and forensics also interest me.  But browsing things I would want to eat breathe and sleep for several years (number one: color theory), I also have to pick something responsible, that will support me financially. &lt;br /&gt;So I'm feeling really lost and alone right now.  And then I fixate on something, like law school, that soothes my mind.  Intense.  Impulsive.  11 hours until yoga.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-461660485200143340?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/461660485200143340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/04/so-hows-your-girl.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/461660485200143340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/461660485200143340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/04/so-hows-your-girl.html' title='So, how&apos;s your girl?'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-2722849124261698139</id><published>2009-03-02T13:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T13:51:02.793-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Peppermint tea</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SaxUsygHWpI/AAAAAAAAAGY/gZAjowmGzQc/s1600-h/IMG_1937%5B1%5D"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308711189210421906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SaxUsygHWpI/AAAAAAAAAGY/gZAjowmGzQc/s400/IMG_1937%5B1%5D" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sore Throat? Peppermint tea. Feeling crabby? Peppermint tea. Good for breakfast. Good for bed. Caffeine free. Fun filled. Especially if its nice and strong. Aveda's loose tea is a little weird, but I guess it's supposed to be especially 'natural'. It kind of coats your throat a little bit. Peppermint tea is the kind of thing I have to be in the mood for, but when the mood strikes and there's some around it's allllll gooooooooood.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-2722849124261698139?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/2722849124261698139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/03/peppermint-tea.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/2722849124261698139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/2722849124261698139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/03/peppermint-tea.html' title='Peppermint tea'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SaxUsygHWpI/AAAAAAAAAGY/gZAjowmGzQc/s72-c/IMG_1937%5B1%5D' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-617165643713155929</id><published>2009-02-19T15:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T16:03:59.368-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Bike</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZ3ygZvtsjI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/EgtsaKB-Joc/s1600-h/IMG_1895.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304662574593061426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZ3ygZvtsjI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/EgtsaKB-Joc/s400/IMG_1895.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; OOOOHhh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-617165643713155929?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/617165643713155929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-new-bike.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/617165643713155929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/617165643713155929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-new-bike.html' title='My New Bike'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZ3ygZvtsjI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/EgtsaKB-Joc/s72-c/IMG_1895.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-6697045403244462077</id><published>2009-02-12T15:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T15:16:50.481-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"She's not Getting it Together"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZSt2bYGBMI/AAAAAAAAAFo/tumXvJ3U0Po/s1600-h/Copy+of+IMG_1897.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302053811895272642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZSt2bYGBMI/AAAAAAAAAFo/tumXvJ3U0Po/s400/Copy+of+IMG_1897.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-6697045403244462077?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/6697045403244462077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/02/shes-not-getting-it-together.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/6697045403244462077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/6697045403244462077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/02/shes-not-getting-it-together.html' title='&quot;She&apos;s not Getting it Together&quot;'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZSt2bYGBMI/AAAAAAAAAFo/tumXvJ3U0Po/s72-c/Copy+of+IMG_1897.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-9009043684020505497</id><published>2009-02-11T15:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T15:48:54.881-08:00</updated><title type='text'>St. Louis</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301680012944851618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNZ4dxdwqI/AAAAAAAAAD0/KKd20MNtXLg/s400/IMG_1881.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Took pictures/spent time with Abby.  She is noticeably more infirm, in pain, and disoriented everytime I go home.   Ominous Anxiety. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNc7O3v6TI/AAAAAAAAAEU/pvt52uwaAro/s1600-h/IMG_1858.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301683359019166002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNc7O3v6TI/AAAAAAAAAEU/pvt52uwaAro/s320/IMG_1858.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mick and Will, and some family/friends from their wedding all met up at O'Connell's Pub.  Drank/smoked too much.  Mick dragged her ass out of bed at 10:00 for some Uncle Bill's.  Then got laid off two days later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNaY2YQPwI/AAAAAAAAAD8/N4fXugUYIDU/s1600-h/IMG_1853.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301680569305808642" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNaY2YQPwI/AAAAAAAAAD8/N4fXugUYIDU/s200/IMG_1853.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNatXUPg3I/AAAAAAAAAEE/CkOiNraReH4/s1600-h/IMG_1854.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301680921744737138" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNatXUPg3I/AAAAAAAAAEE/CkOiNraReH4/s200/IMG_1854.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNa9QKGZFI/AAAAAAAAAEM/I1uSJ0nhS-A/s1600-h/IMG_1855.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301681194701055058" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNa9QKGZFI/AAAAAAAAAEM/I1uSJ0nhS-A/s200/IMG_1855.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My dad was laid off 1/30/09, last day 4/3/09, which ends up being a better retirement than the one he was already planning to take this spring, but also a little scary for a workaholic. I think mom and I keep thinking of new things that can give him purpose, but they seem to be in our service. How he's going to carry extra weight with house chores and make dinners she will eat (pork and beans - his specialty - are not acceptable), how he can go camping with me for Months! to all the places I want to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNeAt8rp6I/AAAAAAAAAEs/iU8FVYZoM1I/s1600-h/IMG_1882.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301684552772331426" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNeAt8rp6I/AAAAAAAAAEs/iU8FVYZoM1I/s200/IMG_1882.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNdsjPPCAI/AAAAAAAAAEk/9VlVnwV2rLM/s1600-h/IMG_1885.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301684206299973634" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNdsjPPCAI/AAAAAAAAAEk/9VlVnwV2rLM/s200/IMG_1885.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Made thank you cards with insincere intent with mom's friends.  The cards ended up being better suited for sincere cards.  Worthless for maleficent aim, but I came out ahead.  Her friend, 'Mary Engelbreit,' made salad and mostcacolli, served with 24 oz Coke and Cheesecake Factory for dessert.  I need to send her one of those cards...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301683723925117154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNdQeQG2OI/AAAAAAAAAEc/8FvnLnydYJg/s320/IMG_1866.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-9009043684020505497?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/9009043684020505497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/02/st-louis.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/9009043684020505497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/9009043684020505497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/02/st-louis.html' title='St. Louis'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNZ4dxdwqI/AAAAAAAAAD0/KKd20MNtXLg/s72-c/IMG_1881.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-8694405638329819988</id><published>2009-01-23T11:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T15:03:16.727-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tea Tree Oil</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNZIME9YTI/AAAAAAAAADs/HRqkq4HqLT0/s1600-h/IMG_1850.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301679183561056562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNZIME9YTI/AAAAAAAAADs/HRqkq4HqLT0/s320/IMG_1850.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tea Tree Oil is a great natural solvent. It won't hurt your skin but is a bit harsh if you apply full strength to your face. (And it will burn like hell if your pores are open [if it's steamy]). But a drop of it will pop a balloon.&lt;br /&gt;Uses: antiseptic moisturizer for skin irritations (wounds or pimples), can help clean grease and paint stains (?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put some on my face after a warm shower, following some time in the sauna. The only time I remember my face burning so badly was when my dad told me ammonia would clear up whatever rash was on my face and failed to mention that I needed to rinse it off immediately and then I woke up in pain with that pretty bad chemical burn. Oh yeah, remember that time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those were good times. It's the cheapest way to have a chemical peel, if you don't mind gambling with blindness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-8694405638329819988?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/8694405638329819988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/01/tea-tree-oil.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/8694405638329819988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/8694405638329819988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/01/tea-tree-oil.html' title='Tea Tree Oil'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNZIME9YTI/AAAAAAAAADs/HRqkq4HqLT0/s72-c/IMG_1850.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-5407907391315772651</id><published>2009-01-16T10:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T10:35:23.854-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Simple Vegetable Soup</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SXDRdFtEZzI/AAAAAAAAACw/4UnNo6TVij0/s1600-h/From+Tiff%27s+Camera+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291959859837953842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SXDRdFtEZzI/AAAAAAAAACw/4UnNo6TVij0/s400/From+Tiff%27s+Camera+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SXDRT10X_NI/AAAAAAAAACo/ohS8XZnMtvM/s1600-h/From+Tiff%27s+Camera+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I spent 2 hours cutting vegetables and effing around, that the veggies and ingredients are still in my fridge 2 days later and I haven't actually made the soup. Instead I got distracted trying to take cool pictures for my blog demonstrating the awesome Bert &amp;amp; Ernie Sing in the Tub record I listened to about 6 times that night. Between this and the opera, my independence is revealing I AM A NERD. I don't know how long this blog will last. I'm trying to be married to these little things I talk about in the blog, not to the blog. Meanwhile, I've got a food diary and a personal journal and there is no life left. But if a blog gets me to figure out manual settings on the digital camera, then the blog it is! The food diary's making me feel a little crazy woman anyway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-5407907391315772651?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/5407907391315772651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/01/simple-vegetable-soup.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/5407907391315772651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/5407907391315772651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/01/simple-vegetable-soup.html' title='Simple Vegetable Soup'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SXDRdFtEZzI/AAAAAAAAACw/4UnNo6TVij0/s72-c/From+Tiff%27s+Camera+003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-1130266663334617871</id><published>2009-01-16T10:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T10:34:40.639-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='opera'/><title type='text'>Madame Butterfly</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SXDOK_SkmcI/AAAAAAAAACg/sG5o9KYzYJg/s1600-h/My+Opera+Shirt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291956250343676354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 106px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SXDOK_SkmcI/AAAAAAAAACg/sG5o9KYzYJg/s200/My+Opera+Shirt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; 30 below outside, lots of old people in fur coats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A little bit scary at first by myself, and a long, slow show which made it that much more powerful at the end. I totally cried, even though I couldn't wait for it to be over already. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Picture: My special opera shirt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-1130266663334617871?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/1130266663334617871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/01/madame-butterfly.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/1130266663334617871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/1130266663334617871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/01/madame-butterfly.html' title='Madame Butterfly'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SXDOK_SkmcI/AAAAAAAAACg/sG5o9KYzYJg/s72-c/My+Opera+Shirt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-6278350654980304685</id><published>2009-01-13T13:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T15:52:25.209-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vit A'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Vitamin A</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNkoj_RUUI/AAAAAAAAAE0/jxh_t4kVkFI/s1600-h/IMG_1848.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301691834363367746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNkoj_RUUI/AAAAAAAAAE0/jxh_t4kVkFI/s320/IMG_1848.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vitamin A makes my eyes shiny (I think) and my skin heal. It is in spinach, carrots, egg yolks, mozzarella, apricots, milks, mango, cantaloupe, sweet potato, liver and lamb.&lt;br /&gt;Supplement: Cod Liver Oil.&lt;br /&gt;How much? 15,000 IU&lt;br /&gt;Too much? 200,000 IU for 6 months&lt;br /&gt;Too much is toxic, esp. during pregnancy (can cause birth defects during early pregnancy). Too much beta carotene will turn skin orange. Vit A in plants (yams, mango, carrots, etc) is beta carotene and the body only absorbs about 30%. If most vit A is ingested through animal sources (retinal/retinol), body absorbs 90% and that would be a path to toxicity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conclusion: Eat as much vit A as possible, balance plant/animal ratio @ 2:1 and don't worry about it. Reexamine before getting knocked up or if you are looking rather orange today w/o sunless tanning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-6278350654980304685?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/6278350654980304685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/01/vitamin.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/6278350654980304685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/6278350654980304685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/01/vitamin.html' title='Vitamin A'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNkoj_RUUI/AAAAAAAAAE0/jxh_t4kVkFI/s72-c/IMG_1848.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144889832871641778.post-2211909773040046640</id><published>2009-01-13T10:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T15:54:38.182-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='klee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='success'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Hello, Stalker</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SXDNhnJiA3I/AAAAAAAAACY/osfqlw0lNeM/s1600-h/From+Tiff%27s+Camera+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291955539488670578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SXDNhnJiA3I/AAAAAAAAACY/osfqlw0lNeM/s200/From+Tiff%27s+Camera+004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Possible Blog Titles:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cece Klee (alias, less pressure. Cece: Cecelia, confirmation name, St. Cecelia, patron saint of music, died a virgin, hard to kill, incorruptible, visited her church in Rome. Klee: Paul Klee, Swiss-German Expressionist, awesome, methodical approach to identifying universal stuff through a completely subjective understanding... i don't even know what i mean by that, but that's what i mean. love his art. love it. the images by themselves, i consistently heart. This is "Drawn One" 1935)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SWzh3lO0nBI/AAAAAAAAACI/jvi1STkCt18/s1600-h/drawn+one.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290852007256824850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 176px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SWzh3lO0nBI/AAAAAAAAACI/jvi1STkCt18/s200/drawn+one.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Adventures in Letting it Die&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Schnookie Sails the Seven Seas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Poopy &amp;amp; Flan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two nights ago I dreamt I was sucked into a Tornado. Before it happened, I tried to call my dad to say I love you and let someone know I was about to die. And I realized that holding onto the the bottom of a bus shelter post was not going to save me. "Wow" + "Oh Shit" = Wide awake.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNlHnyRNLI/AAAAAAAAAE8/jCJgYlVFI30/s1600-h/IMG_1845.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301692367958521010" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNlHnyRNLI/AAAAAAAAAE8/jCJgYlVFI30/s200/IMG_1845.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday I made Deviled Eggs. I also went to the gym, bought 4 pairs of shoes and a hat for $63, only bought the stuff on my list at the grocery store, and did all the dishes. Weird awareness of craving mind yesterday, success involved some sort of reallignment, ineffable. More I try to put my finger on it, the less understanding I can recall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7144889832871641778-2211909773040046640?l=ceceklee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/feeds/2211909773040046640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/01/hello-stalker.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/2211909773040046640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7144889832871641778/posts/default/2211909773040046640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ceceklee.blogspot.com/2009/01/hello-stalker.html' title='Hello, Stalker'/><author><name>bridget</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10117034399682144221</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SZNnPEBmrlI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/KHSY6X04AN8/S220/Copy+of+IMG_1839.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LNp6VAAfd5M/SXDNhnJiA3I/AAAAAAAAACY/osfqlw0lNeM/s72-c/From+Tiff%27s+Camera+004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
