tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62078292025964466272024-03-13T10:31:25.992-05:00BlueGrass and GreenTomatoesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.comBlogger149125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-21307483904212817422016-08-12T18:58:00.001-05:002016-08-12T18:58:55.064-05:00The Past Year (Part 3)Blake called me one afternoon.<br />
<br />
It had become part of our routine when we were on opposite sides of the world to talk just as I was making dinner and just as he was going to work in the morning.<br />
I had just returned back to Oklahoma and was desperately trying to recover from jet lag.<br />
<br />
He wanted to tell me about a job that he had caught wind of. It was a long shot, but something about that position called to him. <br />
<br />
Blake was asked to come in for an interview.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
His story, our story, was so obviously God's will for our lives, that it could not be ignored. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After months of contemplation and prayer on behalf of everyone involved, Blake was offered the job, and we accepted.<br />
<br />
I wish that I could fully and accurately project the amount of peace that both Blake and I have felt throughout this past year.<br />
All of our decisions were hard and few of them made complete sense, but somehow we knew that everything would be okay. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm not going to say that we had faith that God would take care of everything in the exact way that He has, but I can say that we had faith that He would take care of us no matter what. We were happy to go wherever we were led. Whether that be to stay in Australia, move to Singapore, London, or Chile, we were ready to go anywhere and everywhere.<br />
<br />
Our house in Oklahoma was simply meant to stand as a foundation, a place to always return to when we needed a bit of home. That obviously was not what was planned for us. We had no idea that our lives would jump from moving from Houston, Texas to Melbourne, Australia to Edmond, Oklahoma in the past two years.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Watching God work to move us has been nothing short of awesome. So many things had to fall perfectly into place in order for this to have happened, and it did. Not a couple of things worked out exactly as it needed to... Every. Single. Thing. Every doubt was drowned in the overwhelming calm of such a strange twist in our lives. We only needed the faith and the courage to say "yes". Who knew that He would ask us to move to the other side of the world, just to bring us back to where we call home?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
How amazing is it that our God put so much work, so much time, so much effort into seeing this through? Blake and I are no one. Who are we to deserve such love? Who are we to experience so much greatness?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This change is completely inconsistent from the career plan that we had always foreseen for Blake. His new job is completely different in so many ways from what he has been doing for the past eleven years. However, he can take so much of what he has learned in that time, especially the knowledge he has obtained from the past two years in Melbourne, to what he will be doing now.<br />
<br />
I hope that what Blake can bring to this, what I can bring to this will glorify God in every way that He desires.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
You see, Blake will now be serving as part of the leadership team at the place where my brother was married, where my mother's funeral was held, where my sister's journey in her faith strengthened and blossomed, and where my children will be attending school this year.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
Beginning in October, Blake will be the Director of Finance and Administration at Crossings Community Church.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>We have come home. </i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-44609838010369263402016-08-12T15:48:00.002-05:002016-08-12T16:39:50.744-05:00The Past Year (Part 1)Wow.<br />
I hadn't realized that I have not written a post in almost a year.<br />
Time has flown.<br />
<br />
Things have been...<br />
Well, I have a story. An amazing story that I'd like to share. It is sort of long, and it might be hard for me to properly explain, but I'm going to give it a solid shot.<br />
<br />
I have thought long and hard about where this all began, and I can not quite pinpoint the start. So let me just jump back a bit. If you need a refresher on how we ended up in Australia, check out my post <a href="http://bluegrassandgreentomatoes.blogspot.com/2015/02/how-we-knew.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Did you read it?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Ready for the next part?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Here we go.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We moved to Australia fully intending on being there for two or three years, maybe even longer. We moved our furniture all the way from America, and we applied (and were accepted) for a three-year visa. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i></i><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When we first moved into the apartment, Blake was not convinced that The Bar on Flinders Street would be a good long-term living solution for our time in Melbourne. Just in case it didn't work out, we signed only a twelve-month lease. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After six months or so in our apartment, we began to reach out to our landlord, requesting an extension on our lease. Another year, another two years... Whatever he was okay with, we were okay with. We loved The Bar. It was in an ideal location, and we were anxious to really settle in.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
His response surprised us. He wanted to sell his property. He wouldn't extend our lease, and we needed to make plans to move out. We, of course, had the option of purchasing the 25th floor apartment for a mere $2,000,000AUD. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br />
That's right. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Two MILLION Australian dollars.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Obviously, that wasn't going to happen. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Blake and I were upset. The place that we were calling "home" was, in fact, not our home, and we needed to find a new one. Quickly. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We felt exposed and vulnerable. We were both now thirty-year-olds with two small children, and we had no place in the world that we felt where we belonged. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This was a problem. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The solution was whispered in the back of our minds...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"You don't have a home?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Why not?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It's simple. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Buy yourself a house where you feel most at home.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>No matter where you are in the world, you can always go home."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But that doesn't even make sense! </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We live in Australia! </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We don't know what is going to happen in the next couple of years, or even now! </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But then iron ore prices fell. Oil and gas prices plummeted. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
People began to lose their jobs left and right all over the world. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Not only were we uncertain about where we were going to live in the next few months, but Blake's job could at any time not be guaranteed for the next year, month, or even day. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We needed a plan; we needed a foundation, a sense of security. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Not knowing what tomorrow was going to hold, we did what that little voice was whispering...</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br />
... We bought a house. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-74153899350395871042016-08-12T13:12:00.002-05:002016-08-12T17:13:43.541-05:00The Past Year (Part 2)Okay.<br />
<br />
Things aren't crazy.<br />
We aren't crazy. <br />
People buy houses from the other side of the world all the time, right?<br />
<br />
I'll be the first to admit that when we told our few close friends and family what our plans were, the response was normally a question or a look of confusion.<br />
<br />
We bought a house in Oklahoma. <br />
We hadn't lived in Oklahoma in over ten years.<br />
And, no, Blake wasn't looking for a job in Oklahoma.<br />
What are we doing?<br />
<br />
We pushed forward, moving our things out of storage and shipping most of our things from Australia back to the United States. To Oklahoma. <br />
Blake moved our remaining items to a new apartment two blocks away from The Bar on Flinders Street.<br />
The kids and I moved into our new home in Oklahoma and began to unpack.<br />
<br />
Traveling back and forth between Oklahoma and Australia was intense. We weren't sure what kind of schedule we should establish on how much time to spend in one place or the other. Blake's current role would soon transition into a new one that could be anywhere in the world, and because of this, we didn't feel confident in settling anywhere for too long.<br />
<br />
There were long stretches of time where our family was separated. During these periods of time, we doubted our decision to have a house in the States. It felt wrong for us to be apart. There were other times, though, that I rejoiced that I was close to my family.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Kelsey's graduation from nursing school</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Mikey's 1st Major League game</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Ella's 1st birthday </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
However, I mourned for Blake. Knowing he was across the ocean, across the world was hard. There really isn't a way to accurately describe it, but I imagine that more people than I realize can empathize in one way or another how I felt. </div>
<br />
Blake felt the same way that I did, only his sadness was very lonely. In order to maximize his time, he devoted more energy to the men's Bible study that he had joined before all of this began and for the first time, he began to read his Bible daily, reading it from cover to cover. The growth of Blake's understanding of God's Word would provide guidance for the decisions that he would soon have to make. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-73728753525205442942015-08-18T00:37:00.003-05:002015-08-18T00:37:51.628-05:00International Flights with KidsI just booked our plane tickets to head back to America for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas...<br />
I know, I know. We just got back from America. (Like two weeks ago.)<br />
<br />
I wanted to get a jump start on it all since flights have a higher tendency to book up around the holidays. Plus, I wanted to have a chance to choose my seats before everyone else did. I have realized that my life becomes much less stressful when I have everything organized and ready to go as far in advance as possible.<br />
<br />
Why?<br />
Because I am a mother traveling with two four-year-olds.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUpkpcEtySdOIec88AuWsR1OxHdXdYCE40ngLrsYPvGzqhnYGgIf0TsDJ-FEXAiZ5vpvUR-hxQloxZ3yapuej8ZUt9UY7_zZeHRh4cfNukHYlqB5gtjukioADm5-pWni85YUXi-8748nk/s1600/IMG_1330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUpkpcEtySdOIec88AuWsR1OxHdXdYCE40ngLrsYPvGzqhnYGgIf0TsDJ-FEXAiZ5vpvUR-hxQloxZ3yapuej8ZUt9UY7_zZeHRh4cfNukHYlqB5gtjukioADm5-pWni85YUXi-8748nk/s640/IMG_1330.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">My little angel children. All prepared to behave perfectly for the next 16 hours. Ha.</span></div>
<br />
Flying filled me with anxiety and dread before I had kids. Now that I'm traveling with kids... It's a whole new ballgame, people. Especially when you are traveling out of the country.<br />
<br />
Here are a few things that I have learned since flying internationally with the kids has become more common than ordering pizza delivery.<br />
<br />
<b>1. Pack light.</b><br />
No joke, last trip I packed one suitcase to check.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
One... For a six week trip.</div>
<br />
The idea of making my way through the airport, through customs, with two kids and a ridiculous amount of stuff seemed daunting. In reality, we didn't use as much as I had packed anyway. By the time it came for us to return home, I was really wishing that I had left even more back in Australia because I needed room for all of the important things that I had purchased in America...<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Like Twizzlers.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>2. iPads... They are a godsend.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Okay,
so when Blake told me that he got an offer for the job in Australia, I
started planning our move in my head. When I took my first flight with
Blake to Australia for our orientation trip, I crossed out most of what I
had thought about flying that distance with the twins and focused on
one thing and one thing only, iPads. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
They have kept the kids entertained and happy for longer amounts of time than any other invention in this world.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Except for maybe a puppy. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Since puppies are a little difficult to smuggle onto a plane to a foreign country, we'll stick with the iPad.</div>
<br />
Even
if you have to beg, borrow, and steal (Maybe not steal.)... Get your
hands on an iPad or tablet of some sort. Load it up with new, unfamiliar
apps and games for kids, download a couple of their favorite movies and
enjoy. You are about to witness the miracle of quiet entertainment.<br />
<br />
I
try to forgive myself for allowing them to partake in such lengthy
amounts of screen time by finding some quality, educational apps that
might actually be beneficial. (I'll share some of my favorites another
time.) <div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>3. Bring your own headphones.</b> (And get an <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ZC4WZJ8?psc=1&redirect=true&ref_=oh_aui_detailpage_o04_s00" target="_blank">adapter</a>.)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This especially applies to the kids. On the way over I kept having to untangle the wires of the headphones that they had for their iPad and the headphones that the airline passed out. It was a pain, especially after having to do it for the 40th time with little to no sleep in a 24 hour time span. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
On the way back I was more prepared. I purchased headphones for myself and for them, and it was much easier to simply unplug the headphones and plug them into the device as opposed to completely switching headphones out. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
(<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00M1NEUA0?psc=1&redirect=true&ref_=oh_aui_detailpage_o04_s00" target="_blank">Here are the headphones that I got for myself</a>. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00NWYGZO6?psc=1&redirect=true&ref_=oh_aui_detailpage_o04_s00" target="_blank">These are what I purchased for Samantha and Easton</a>. So far they have all been fabulous.) </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Trust me... This will help save your sanity. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>4. Pack a little backpack for each kid. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I found the backpack idea to be the easiest because Samantha and Easton were able to carry their own stuff through the airport, through customs, onto the plane, etc. Plus, I didn't pack an overwhelming amount of stuff since I wanted it to be manageable for them both in the sense of weight and in finding what they needed. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here's what I packed in each of their bags:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-A change of clothes (Just in case)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-A Pull-Up (Even though they are both potty trained, I was afraid of them <i>really</i> needing to go at an inopportune time. I figured I could let them wiggle into the Pull-Up under a blanket and go in the Pull-Up if it was an emergency.) </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-Their iPad and headphones </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-An activity book and some crayons/markers</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-One or two small toys </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-Snacks, lots of snacks (There hasn't been a single airplane meal that Samantha and Easton have liked.)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-Lollipops (For takeoff and landing, although the pressure doesn't seem to bother their ears much.)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
-Lovie (When they get sleepy, they get pitiful. They always want their special stuffed animal to snuggle.)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This goes into my next suggestion...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>5. Don't pack "surprises".</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
There are a few moms out there who swear on pulling out a little surprise for their kiddo every hour or so to keep them happy and entertained. I did that on the first flight the kids ever took, but I didn't really pull anything out. (They were too into their new iPads on that trip.)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I made the decision that for us, extrinsic rewards just weren't going to work. I didn't want to set that precedent. We take long car rides and long airplane rides far too often for me to keep up with that. It would be too much. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The kids don't expect it, and therefore, I don't do it. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>6. Don't worry too much about the people sitting around you. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My kids are just that... kids. They are still trying to figure out everything in the world and acting appropriately on an airplane is one of those things. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
(I am also trying to help them figure out that when they have their headphones on, they don't have to yell to be heard. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Just because it is harder for you to hear yourself, doesn't mean it is harder for me to hear you. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
That's been fun.)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Anyway... Just as I disagree with giving my kids little surprises throughout a flight, I feel the same way with the fad of giving the other passengers goodie bags just because there are two little kids sitting next to them.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm not going to do it. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm also not going to let my kids kick the back of your seat, run up and down the aisles, scream at the top of their lungs for fun, and constantly adjust the back of their chair in an obnoxious manner. With that in mind, I just hope that people forgive us of any little "learning opportunities"... If not, sounds like a personal problem to me. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>7. Take a pen. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Make sure that you bring a pen with you so that you can fill out any forms that you'll need to complete for entry into a country. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I know that with Qantas, they pass those forms out to you early into the flight to allow you the opportunity to fill them out at your convenience. Since everyone, including children, needs to complete certain forms, that means that I have at least three forms that need to be completed. Since the Ebola outbreak, I have had a minimum of six forms that have to be finished before I can enter into Australia. These things actually take a little time and thought. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Avoid the hassle of borrowing a pen or filling out the forms after you've gotten off the aircraft. Bring your own pen and fill everything out before you land. Trust me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>8. Pack toothbrushes. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Everyone feels a bit more human after a 15+ hour flight if they have a chance to brush their teeth... Including my kids. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Just a personal preference. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I don't want to sugarcoat it... These flights aren't easy. Unless you're flying in business class, it has been my experience that you aren't going to get much (if any) sleep. Not to worry, though. Things will hopefully be uneventful, and you'll only need to combat the boredom that goes hand-in-hand with flights of this length. (iPads!) </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Hopefully, a little insight into how our flights have been and what I do to make our flights as easy as possible will encourage you to not dread an upcoming international flight as much... </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Like maybe an international flight to Australia? </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
To visit your good buddy Kim and her adorable four-year-old twins? </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Oh, and Blake too... He's pretty great, I guess. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-56418146288361679182015-06-28T12:39:00.000-05:002015-06-28T12:39:08.347-05:00Three Week Australia VisitWhen you travel to Australia to visit I may or may not be inclined to create an extremely detailed itinerary for your visit...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Partly because I want you to know what we are going to be doing each day, so that you can give me a heads up if I have missed anything or if you don't want to spend time doing something in particular. It is also helpful for packing purposes. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Mostly because I have pretty strong OCD tendencies.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
... Just so you know ...</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Anyway, I thought that I would post the itinerary that I came up with for Blake's parents' visit. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
They were in Australia for three weeks, and after that, Mrs. Kathy and I flew with Samantha and Easton back to Texas. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
(The kids and I will be in the States until the end of July visiting family and friends.) </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Mr. Rick was encouraged and then decided to spend a couple of extra weeks in Australia so that he and Blake could explore a little more without having to make the compromises that you have to make when you have two four-year-olds in tow. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Without further ado...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF5jO0XkWiF7qOitlML1VGWMUYRPfNxRT9f_6Ql0Wmrih-Bzk060ZQQcaBcgjbZnZG_C7cZcCqFamko5e_A9dJk1xU0jVVJc4AcXLXFUWls3pSYujStBx7n7SZbo4_gvlzBqYKvqBkxls/s1600/RickandKathyItinerary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF5jO0XkWiF7qOitlML1VGWMUYRPfNxRT9f_6Ql0Wmrih-Bzk060ZQQcaBcgjbZnZG_C7cZcCqFamko5e_A9dJk1xU0jVVJc4AcXLXFUWls3pSYujStBx7n7SZbo4_gvlzBqYKvqBkxls/s640/RickandKathyItinerary.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGfbdFbNevX2d6W_LxKaQyxPW5dnwksT_uYNBjMFhZWmDWRoRHCGHmAP9F8w6T39cKp0KIepumL1cG8_iVajsVLsEq37r7n_-nJea2NlHjPZFOrxwqTyGw2XBvcRf2zzTB_lvJ-g9Xp7w/s1600/RickandKathyItinerary2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGfbdFbNevX2d6W_LxKaQyxPW5dnwksT_uYNBjMFhZWmDWRoRHCGHmAP9F8w6T39cKp0KIepumL1cG8_iVajsVLsEq37r7n_-nJea2NlHjPZFOrxwqTyGw2XBvcRf2zzTB_lvJ-g9Xp7w/s640/RickandKathyItinerary2.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8NXWOF0RAfBfxLq6W76OEsFvC3rnoXzxRwId3CkSiicFJUT1LKnAIdoQy1zv4G-zbXkGWV2nH7s-Zow5Bmsbbgm7Azs4E8JYq9H_zuc-gUfNgslnwvX61sUQke0ePxzwtoW0C-3Ep2Y4/s1600/RickandKathyItinerary3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8NXWOF0RAfBfxLq6W76OEsFvC3rnoXzxRwId3CkSiicFJUT1LKnAIdoQy1zv4G-zbXkGWV2nH7s-Zow5Bmsbbgm7Azs4E8JYq9H_zuc-gUfNgslnwvX61sUQke0ePxzwtoW0C-3Ep2Y4/s640/RickandKathyItinerary3.jpg" width="494" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVVyE3ZWw7NCHYHZPpRXIuV3vMhxnFHPjAzgPIFIBEbw6fyE7eQN0qH27X1Bly3Pd7zmv9PYWTg8O2z5ZsIwlkjtFmZOxRomnfraUw9-Qgex4eia1Vc9UvYkRqG-ll450wACElyWDg8c/s1600/RickandKathyItinerary4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVVyE3ZWw7NCHYHZPpRXIuV3vMhxnFHPjAzgPIFIBEbw6fyE7eQN0qH27X1Bly3Pd7zmv9PYWTg8O2z5ZsIwlkjtFmZOxRomnfraUw9-Qgex4eia1Vc9UvYkRqG-ll450wACElyWDg8c/s640/RickandKathyItinerary4.jpg" width="494" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfBui2OZWGhNJVUmeSJP_1V7YyvgLh9LXHTq8EgGmcLkpP5FTnT_07h1PSHDXWMov4sfhiciO0mZU8NsBxay2-apahezoJJ5aVEsDjvNQR8UOga9lDMgXIKDFnysYWHGTMs_-gkAbhxM/s1600/RickandKathyItinerary5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfBui2OZWGhNJVUmeSJP_1V7YyvgLh9LXHTq8EgGmcLkpP5FTnT_07h1PSHDXWMov4sfhiciO0mZU8NsBxay2-apahezoJJ5aVEsDjvNQR8UOga9lDMgXIKDFnysYWHGTMs_-gkAbhxM/s640/RickandKathyItinerary5.jpg" width="494" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UfkUYeD5pE6o1J_oc80rJL83fxIXQixUXLbpXZ_9sFZOs2pr6ndc6BjoZnKNicNgDuwxm4q_7uJM_Tvk-PrdHzEUC8F3-VzZQsDlMQf1dZp11Pm2sIbsIUe28e3CJsAascKDbfKhpBY/s1600/RickandKathyItinerary6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UfkUYeD5pE6o1J_oc80rJL83fxIXQixUXLbpXZ_9sFZOs2pr6ndc6BjoZnKNicNgDuwxm4q_7uJM_Tvk-PrdHzEUC8F3-VzZQsDlMQf1dZp11Pm2sIbsIUe28e3CJsAascKDbfKhpBY/s640/RickandKathyItinerary6.jpg" width="494" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUlW7RJis-kLsmPUanYartMKWYZ883gL7M5J8sx13jO8EzdjxEa77yzV5xhqOcDx4qvH9Yl2kGRozApGTYXto2813yrugTSPJPYLcs0_SLTyPb3YnC_L-AL2MeY9fqQYnzE1KbArv6Fg/s1600/RickandKathyItinerary7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUlW7RJis-kLsmPUanYartMKWYZ883gL7M5J8sx13jO8EzdjxEa77yzV5xhqOcDx4qvH9Yl2kGRozApGTYXto2813yrugTSPJPYLcs0_SLTyPb3YnC_L-AL2MeY9fqQYnzE1KbArv6Fg/s640/RickandKathyItinerary7.jpg" width="494" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabapHXASQcOamToyilRajoT9VyVSCBZG7ADJYTIxv74HEoMxC7jlIrF_DDKYcGYcRQ10vghdTgsDiI2ZBABClmrq_N-pd1CkIhQdWp254HfQEGVhUitNTvNz-DORvFJH0cuACKhDj288/s1600/RickandKathyItinerary8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabapHXASQcOamToyilRajoT9VyVSCBZG7ADJYTIxv74HEoMxC7jlIrF_DDKYcGYcRQ10vghdTgsDiI2ZBABClmrq_N-pd1CkIhQdWp254HfQEGVhUitNTvNz-DORvFJH0cuACKhDj288/s640/RickandKathyItinerary8.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So maybe my not-so-secret agenda behind showing this to you is to make you think, </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>"Hmm... Wow! How fun! I think that I want to go to Australia!"</i> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
You then call/message/email me, and I am like, <i>"Yes! Come, please!"</i> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
And then you come visit us in Australia so I don't have to miss you that much!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Sneaky, huh? ... I await your contact. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-42595214977627256182015-05-14T22:49:00.001-05:002015-05-15T16:22:52.422-05:00New York CityIf you've been keeping up, you know that I traveled from Melbourne last week to New York City to surprise my sweet mother-in-law for her 60th birthday. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you can check out my previous post by clicking <a href="http://bluegrassandgreentomatoes.blogspot.com.au/2015/05/new-york-city-surprise.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<br />
We had a crazy great time. It was one of those crazy great times that you can only have with a group of girls that are anxious to explore a new place and drink a bottle or two of really good wine at each meal.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Breakfast may or may not have been included in this generalization.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Our first full day was on Sunday, May 3th, and we started the day with a walk towards Macy's - The World's Largest Store. We walked most of the way along Broadway, admiring the buzz and vibrancy which is everything that you might imagine that it would be, only more.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We stood outside of Macy's for a few moments before making the turn towards the Empire State Building. <i>(That's right... We didn't even make it inside of Macy's - The World's Largest Store, people. We had bigger buildings to see.)</i> The lines at the Empire State Building were short so early on a Sunday morning, and we were on the elevator going up before we knew it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBbmcp2sSVjSfVlUqA0sI7qDZKyEIgnvM6hyphenhyphenxMXjxfQv9cRngGhRDb6_2xWvnErwWPV42vkyBJRv82fwlsub9zce-Hn-OhshAsmTXTEFyf51FhovRwHZmuN6hfqP1si9W65ukFyZfDpE/s1600/10399430_10103113224684667_394924809859268008_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBbmcp2sSVjSfVlUqA0sI7qDZKyEIgnvM6hyphenhyphenxMXjxfQv9cRngGhRDb6_2xWvnErwWPV42vkyBJRv82fwlsub9zce-Hn-OhshAsmTXTEFyf51FhovRwHZmuN6hfqP1si9W65ukFyZfDpE/s640/10399430_10103113224684667_394924809859268008_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> <i>We purchased the cheesy tourist photo because it is fabulous! </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(I mean who wouldn't pay $30 for this jewel?)</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrE2jZJAx0lYIkbuhuNqxvLQXHWaAAdDUhot5hov38FPtVytUhL1j8I_tkVmAGwY_eDcZyOyPXGcwbrGGPmL3w8ES7IokygFcsdXy5MZNBYUfO4K8ze_1H4l7YizCmg5UNOGhl5TfhBRY/s1600/FullSizeRender-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrE2jZJAx0lYIkbuhuNqxvLQXHWaAAdDUhot5hov38FPtVytUhL1j8I_tkVmAGwY_eDcZyOyPXGcwbrGGPmL3w8ES7IokygFcsdXy5MZNBYUfO4K8ze_1H4l7YizCmg5UNOGhl5TfhBRY/s640/FullSizeRender-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The views were, of course, awesome.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Can you see the teeny, tiny, Statue of Liberty?</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">After the Empire State Building and then lunch <i>(fried mozzarella!)</i>, we went to go see Les Miserables, and it was so wonderful, so perfect that I sang the songs for the next week. I couldn't get them out of my head! </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>It was definitely my favorite show out of the three that we saw!</i> </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We finished the day with dinner at Nocello Italian Restaurant <i>(penne pasta with pink sauce!)</i> and then walked the few short blocks to take a late night carriage ride through Central Park. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxoqFRgF0SbZroCEWJpuTUEeseSc09f4VmPZ4Y3VxNDhndS6ryanhkMaDYKmTVW-rC5VA5ewPvnSG42ovTf3eb9sKlvyTCoBTZIXDdXfZuQvcDIF4-ts6aT8dEnEVmk6nXwGaGyUcLT9U/s1600/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxoqFRgF0SbZroCEWJpuTUEeseSc09f4VmPZ4Y3VxNDhndS6ryanhkMaDYKmTVW-rC5VA5ewPvnSG42ovTf3eb9sKlvyTCoBTZIXDdXfZuQvcDIF4-ts6aT8dEnEVmk6nXwGaGyUcLT9U/s640/FullSizeRender-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Our group split into two groups that took two carriages. </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I'm not going to mention that the two carriages spent a part of the time "racing". </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I also won't mention that the other carriage was significantly rowdier than our carriage...</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
On Monday, May 4th, our second full day in the Big Apple, we hailed a couple of cabs and spent the morning at the 9/11 Memorial Museum. The museum was perfect in every sense. There wasn't a single detail that was overlooked, and I am in complete awe of every aspect from the presentation of information, the respectful way the people who lost their lives that day were remembered and honored, and the peaceful air that settled where such a horrible event had occurred almost 14 years ago. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My favorite part of the museum was an art piece that took up the wall that connects the north side and the south side of the museum.The artist painted individual squares the color that he remembers the sky being on the morning of September 11th, 2001. Every square turned into a different shade of blue with each attempt. Every square represents one person who perished that day at the Twin Towers and during the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. There are 2,983 squares for the 2,983 people. In the middle of the squares was a quote. <i>"No day shall erase you from the memory of time."</i> It was a beautiful piece. I love all that is symbolized. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>You can see and read more about that particular piece <a href="http://www.forbes.com/sites/jonathonkeats/2014/05/27/how-artist-spencer-finch-made-the-ultimate-911-memorial-on-2983-ordinary-sheets-of-paper/" target="_blank">here</a>. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I was blown away by how much I learned, how much I didn't know, and how horrible that day really was. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I think that maybe you can never truly understand the horror of such an event until you experience it or something like it yourself. Being in the museum, in the location where everything happened, however, puts you in a new position to try to wrap your head around that day. </i><br />
<i>9/11 was a tragedy beyond comprehension. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After the museum, lunch, and the Disney Store where I purchased the promised "surprises" for Samantha and Easton, the group changed clothes and headed to see "Mamma Mia". It was fun, light-hearted, and had a bunch of guys running around in little Speedos. It was a win-win-win! </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5HOsjA5iowL_-eNBxNz45q9vdbn_oSgnwrBxpzTkXpp7vDYh5P_9Z5RmG8y4ihgH89wjY5iEXScJowFIMgrZNJpqmwEzdd6Hhb80FdTIDTSX4UzDkYFTGGMZcziULTyK6Qe_vDETgjkY/s1600/FullSizeRender-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5HOsjA5iowL_-eNBxNz45q9vdbn_oSgnwrBxpzTkXpp7vDYh5P_9Z5RmG8y4ihgH89wjY5iEXScJowFIMgrZNJpqmwEzdd6Hhb80FdTIDTSX4UzDkYFTGGMZcziULTyK6Qe_vDETgjkY/s640/FullSizeRender-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Mamma Mia" !</span></i> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After the play we stopped at a little place to eat near our hotels and
shared a few appetizers <i>(cheese, fruit, and crackers!)</i> while we laughed and talked through a few glasses of
wine and martinis. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
On our final full day in the city, Tuesday, May 5th, it was Mrs. Kathy's 60th birthday, so we woke up extra early and arrived outside Rockefeller Center with hopes of being on The Today Show. Everyone wore their bright green <i>"60 is the New 30"</i> shirts (except for me since I was a last minute surprise, and all), and we held up our signs until we finally caught the eye of the camera crew. As you might have seen... We made it on air!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwrZjjYIW5eov5FTRKorv9XHC5l_KTEyCn0wVq9NGuvZhhALF1tXNlKrsCi307rQQ7CAurMd8663RQHDQx_' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Hehehe! </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I was on national television! Woo hoo!</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdMFdTG2znjhy-aPvzaFZKEjZbvcili6KM39dmwKVsboxA2Lpe9PWK9t1D_Cjscmj5d6IbQZoJlay2Snu-nqryquIk0NsJSTeRc-jpd88H9xCWpeeAtkfPOdQEqLSQ-5GkTAk3ATfm2WY/s1600/11150711_10153139486871281_5537119754244122386_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdMFdTG2znjhy-aPvzaFZKEjZbvcili6KM39dmwKVsboxA2Lpe9PWK9t1D_Cjscmj5d6IbQZoJlay2Snu-nqryquIk0NsJSTeRc-jpd88H9xCWpeeAtkfPOdQEqLSQ-5GkTAk3ATfm2WY/s640/11150711_10153139486871281_5537119754244122386_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Here's a picture of us on my friend, Shannon's, television!</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">We were pretty excited when notifications from Facebook and text messages started coming in from friends and family who had seen us on television. We were also pumped to see all The Today Show anchors* and even Wrangler, the dog. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>*Except for Savannah, who was ironically in Australia.</i> </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">We wandered away once the show started to focus on a singer that we didn't know anything about. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiONMOsYB31SL4gGZOj7ZW0aTprwaf037Cq-BC4tuBUlUvtkX9sVBG-n5ewB8XKz0xzj-sTCAEbHOgegKWikAZijDp4-KZoWOOiuIDiwyXBv0ypizuGVb4Rv-z4LdpSDLbB2jWKI3QeZj0/s1600/17380982205_7e6ebdc3d0_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiONMOsYB31SL4gGZOj7ZW0aTprwaf037Cq-BC4tuBUlUvtkX9sVBG-n5ewB8XKz0xzj-sTCAEbHOgegKWikAZijDp4-KZoWOOiuIDiwyXBv0ypizuGVb4Rv-z4LdpSDLbB2jWKI3QeZj0/s640/17380982205_7e6ebdc3d0_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><i> </i></span> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Here we all are! </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(Everyone in their green shirts and me with my crazy clever sign...)</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">After leaving the plaza, we had a great breakfast <i>(American bacon!) </i>and then we headed to 5th Avenue for a little shopping.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Would you believe that the only thing I bought was for the newest, littlest, unborn member of our family?... </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>(Erica and Jonathan's baby. Not mine. Just wanted to clear up any confusion there.)</i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">After shopping, we stopped by Mrs. Kathy's favorite little pub in the city <i>(club sandwich!)</i>, sang "Happy Birthday", curbed Mrs. Kathy's needed for the french onion soup, ate some huge cupcakes, all before heading back to our hotels to shower and change before our final night. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">To cap off Mrs. Kathy's birthday we went to see "The Phantom of the Opera" and had dinner at Carmine's. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYnoJSgiCeQqZ24P4HcQvnxVmrvaE29D7wNhsKLuTbvIWqoDtjyen6gPyYQFCLiAVlEcQtXCN3SXd0ViCDpYIPHQKnrOVIAM1nxvy4L2uh6gKyKaHBeGbszI8o-vMDhkTPSn3iXvjCUuA/s1600/FullSizeRender-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYnoJSgiCeQqZ24P4HcQvnxVmrvaE29D7wNhsKLuTbvIWqoDtjyen6gPyYQFCLiAVlEcQtXCN3SXd0ViCDpYIPHQKnrOVIAM1nxvy4L2uh6gKyKaHBeGbszI8o-vMDhkTPSn3iXvjCUuA/s640/FullSizeRender-3.jpg" width="624" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><i>"The Phantom of the Opera"!</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I have to admit that the final dinner of our trip was probably my favorite. The atmosphere was fun and loud, which was really appropriate for our group. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>All of the other restaurants that we had gone to were really nice, but we were always the loudest.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Who am I kidding?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>We were still the loudest at Carmine's, just maybe not the ONLY loud group.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We had spaghetti <i>(with extra sauce per Mrs. Kathy)</i> and too many drinks to count ... </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>We took a cab back to the hotel. No worries.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
... And we were ultimately kicked out long after the restaurant had closed their front doors. However, we didn't leave before toasting to Mrs. Kathy, singing another round of "Happy Birthday", and toasting to Mary when midnight (and thus her birthday, the day after Mrs. Kathy's birthday) arrived.<i> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The final morning, as we all packed up our bags to go home, we reflected on how fabulous our time together truly had been. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My father-in-law, Mr. Rick, did a wonderful job on proposing the idea for this trip so long ago and making the arrangements for it to come together. (And for watching Lincoln, Bailey and Whiskey even though the cat was mad at you for having to share your attention.) And, Blake, thank you for watching the kids while I flew from one side of the world to the other and back again. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We had a blast! </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
*<i>Extra Note: Oh, Lord. There were so many things said and done that were hilariously embarrassing for all those in our party, including myself. We adopted the Las Vegas mantra "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas", but, of course, with the location changed to New York. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>I am true to my word so I won't embarrass anyone on the blog, but if you see me and ask, I will happily tell you a story or two. I might share with you the one where we were all walking along 7th Avenue and Mrs. Kathy couldn't get a response from her iPhone ("Siri. Siri. Why isn't Siri working?!") Or maybe I could tell you about Heather and the horrible red straws in her cocktails... (She can drink like a big girl, y'all.) Or maybe I could share Mary's favorite parts of "Mamma Mia". (Hint: They were hidden beneath red spandex.) </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>I could go on and on... But I won't. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>For now. Dun dun duhhhhh...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-15076684139396220632015-05-12T04:18:00.001-05:002015-05-12T04:27:39.021-05:00New York City SurpriseI have never been to New York City...<br />
Wait. Scratch that.<br />
I <i>had</i> never been to New York City until last week.<br />
<br />
It was fast-paced. It was dirty. It was crowded.<br />
<br />
It was fabulous. It was hilarious. It was a blast.<br />
<br />
Blake's mom, Mrs. Kathy, was celebrating her 60th birthday in New York City. Originally, it was planned that Mrs. Kathy, Blake's sister, Heather, and myself would take the celebratory trip. When Blake, the kids, and I moved to Australia, however, it put a damper on our plans, and I had to reluctantly* bow out.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>*By "reluctantly" I mean that I cried ugly, disappointed tears when I discovered that there was no way that I would be able to make the trip. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The trip to NYC morphed over the past few months as more people jumped on the birthday bandwagon. Soon the crowd included Blake's aunt (Mrs. Kathy's sister-in-law), Judy, Blake's cousin (Mrs. Kathy's niece), Jeania, and Blake's "aunt" (Mrs. Kathy's good friend), Mary. The three would fly in from their respective cities to join Heather and Mrs. Kathy for the five day, four night adventure in The Big Apple. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
All the while, I sat in my apartment on the other side of the world hoping to live vicariously through the group via social media updates. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Blake seized the moment to be the best son/husband/brother/father to ever exist by encouraging me to throw caution to the wind and purchase the last minute flight to New York City exactly one week before the trip would take place. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I think he could see my increasing need for adult interaction that did not include him.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>My last blog post (seen <span style="color: red;"><a href="http://bluegrassandgreentomatoes.blogspot.com.au/2015/04/too-much-quality-time-send-help.html" target="_blank">here</a></span>) was a pretty good hint...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After booking the plane ticket and a room in a hotel as close as possible to where everyone else was going to be ... </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>The hotel where Mrs. Kathy and the crew were staying was booked.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
...<i> </i>I almost died with excitement and anticipation. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Blake's dad, Mr. Rick, can confirm this with my early (early!) morning phone calls and my constant need for reassuring emails that Mrs. Kathy did not have any idea of this surprise turn of events. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
A few days before the trip we decided to let Heather in on the secret as the group began making more detailed plans for the upcoming trip, and as I boarded the plane the day before Blake, Heather, Mr. Rick, and I were the only ones aware of my 20+ hours of flight to NYC. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Not including my sister-in-law, sister, best friend, and grandmother...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I can't keep a secret.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>You've all been warned.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I had a pretty relaxing flight from Melbourne to LA. However, when I reached the terminal I tensed immediately when I saw that my 8:55AM flight from LA to JFK was already delayed to leave at 10:35AM. I wasn't confident at all that I was going to make the dinner reservations at the restaurant where I was going to meet up with the group. Talk about disappointment. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I took advantage of the delayed flight by taking a shower and grabbing a latte before sitting down to check in on the stocks and national news. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Just kidding... I totally checked Facebook.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Just as I sat down with my coffee, an announcement came across asking everyone on my flight to report to the gate to board. We ended up leaving 40 minutes before expected... I just might make it as planned!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2GPmyzy-Xmtz16AxI6LHZVEI3vsNxH7UnXgtuBF_YMEiX0zkXnqSh34J41rAfCHeBXRZGhVVWh2-mGFYY6lqHlbWZBYnQ9TL7k2oO9Bun9k-LNV9cclM7JbD0ZNCd_MHSqZ4emjo3QA4/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="624" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2GPmyzy-Xmtz16AxI6LHZVEI3vsNxH7UnXgtuBF_YMEiX0zkXnqSh34J41rAfCHeBXRZGhVVWh2-mGFYY6lqHlbWZBYnQ9TL7k2oO9Bun9k-LNV9cclM7JbD0ZNCd_MHSqZ4emjo3QA4/s640/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When the plane landed in New York I ran outside, hailed a cab, and jumped into the yellow car, offering its driver a $20 tip if he could get me to my hotel by 7:30PM. <i>(Dinner reservations were at 8PM.) </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The driver pulled up outside of my hotel with two minutes to spare, and I happily handed over the bill and rushed inside to check in. I had just enough time to brush my teeth, throw on fresh clothes <i>(Thank goodness that I had a chance to shower in LA!)</i>, and walk the three short blocks to the restaurant. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When I arrived at Frankie and Johnnie's Steakhouse, I checked in with the hostess, telling her that I was there early to meet a group. I explained that they didn't know that I was coming and that I had just flown in from Australia. She sent me upstairs to the bar to remain unseen until everyone arrived. Once she had seated them, she would let me know that they were there. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When I sat down at the bar upstairs my heart was pounding, my anxiety from rushing for the past few hours was not allowing me to settle in. How was I to solve that...?</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Vodka!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The bartender was interested in my story and within the ten minutes of waiting for the others, everyone in the bar knew where I had come from, why I was there, and who I was waiting for. When the hostess appeared to announce that my group had arrived and was getting settled, I <i>(along with the half dozen bar patrons) </i>leaned around the corner before I walked out, a bit nervously, and released an enthusiastic "Happy Birthday!" at my mother-in-law. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
She peered at me dis-trustingly for<i> </i>a single moment before shouting with surprise.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Take a peek at the video below of Mrs. Kathy's reaction to my sudden appearance.</i> </div>
</div>
<br />
<div id="fb-root">
</div>
<script>(function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "//connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v2.3"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs);}(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));</script><br />
<div class="fb-video" data-allowfullscreen="true" data-href="/heatherguild/videos/vb.650318733/10153300014253734/?type=1">
<div class="fb-xfbml-parse-ignore">
<blockquote cite="/heatherguild/videos/10153300014253734/">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/heatherguild/videos/10153300014253734/"></a><br />
Surprise!!!!<br />
Posted by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/heatherguild">Heather Guild</a> on Saturday, May 2, 2015</blockquote>
</div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
It was such a fun surprise, and I was so, so happy to be able to be a part of Mrs. Kathy's 60th birthday celebration!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'll post more about the trip itself later.<br />
<br />
Now that I've gotten myself all worked up with the excitement and anxiety of reliving that moment, you know what that means!?<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Vodka!</i><i> </i></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-50820497467473037542015-04-23T02:37:00.001-05:002015-04-23T02:59:26.475-05:00Too Much Quality Time... Send Help!Living with three-year-old twins in a city where you really don't know anyone else means that there is a lot of time spent together, just the three of us. It is always interesting or frustrating or fun or all three rolled into one experience. They definitely keep me entertained while constantly on the edge of pulling out all of my hair.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>That isn't necessarily a bad thing since I am in desperate need for a haircut.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Anyway, the things that we discuss on a daily basis can easily range from what they want to eat for lunch <i>(which Easton will happily describe what he wants four or five times in a row until I tell him to stop) </i>or they will want to know why people<i> (and Maysee)</i> go to live with Jesus. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>For example, Blake took Easton to the natural science museum while I took Samantha shopping last weekend. </i><br />
<i>He only talked about the dead (stuffed) khola bear on display for days after.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Why would Blake tell him that all of the animals at the museum were dead?! </i><br />
<i>Probably because he gets to escape (go to work) on Mondays. Lucky bastard.</i><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
You could get whiplash just from the subjects they bounce back and forth from<i>. </i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I wanted to take a moment to share a few specific tidbits of what I experience regularly. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
... </div>
<br />
Easton pointed out a small dog this week on the television asking, "What is that?"<br />
Me, "A chihuahua."<br />
Easton, "Oh, a chiblahblah."<br />
<br />
You'd better believe that Blake and I prompted him to keep saying it until he caught on that he was saying it wrong and we were only asking for our own enjoyment. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyIRnmKWt1i4e4FyTMKeAAlv4mRQwjmCTHnRne5CK09AbrTpCuklpzQZOwMKLkHFYPGzrIyUp54aVzyq3Zpew' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Obviously I had to get it on camera</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
...</div>
<br />
I take the kids to the library every week to pick out a few books and a DVD each. They are so pumped about the DVD that they rarely give much thought to the books that they pick out.<br />
<br />
Last week Easton grabbed a book about a kid who lives at her mum's house some days and at her dad's house on the other days.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>As you might have guessed, it was a book about divorce.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Samantha picked up a book about a little girl who was having to visit her daddy who was in prison. <i> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Needless to say, I was a little worried about Blake's reaction to the kids' book choices when he read them that evening before bedtime. I should have been more concerned about the kids' reaction to the stories. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>They keep asking when Blake is leaving for prison.</i> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibZW2mfgOjSsAO1sm1QHrzRvEBtv02qV5biKXJqbb9qh6fRCHUfO109FtKEWmO_lNPCPACfPAQNOF8xECBImfZtFx2bGt0P_z1WXC-A66LwXJyPy1Fkio0BM-mUNOlEynhe3JRA8Aijac/s1600/Books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibZW2mfgOjSsAO1sm1QHrzRvEBtv02qV5biKXJqbb9qh6fRCHUfO109FtKEWmO_lNPCPACfPAQNOF8xECBImfZtFx2bGt0P_z1WXC-A66LwXJyPy1Fkio0BM-mUNOlEynhe3JRA8Aijac/s1600/Books.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Samantha and Easton with their respective books</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Samantha and I went shopping last weekend and on the way home we stopped by a little shop that I had been wanting to go into. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I hadn't before because who wants to take two kids and their husband into a small space to shop in peace?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Samantha was my best bet.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We ended up picking out a couple of eye masks for Samantha and Easton to don on our next flight back to the States. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Of course, they are the newest things and, therefore, the coolest things.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
That night as Blake was turning out the light, Easton leaned over his bed, said "goodnight" to Samantha, and settled into his bed... But not before pulling on his panda bear eye mask, which he has worn for both naptime and bedtime for the past week. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2eZ6fYPoxUeXpg6u16JZgZjK2pWH4o3duvha8NttdjxBZS88SzSphOONDsXnfSpY9jBABOdznYWEOTgu7tK33oJtV1EkU2aqF6-nPUE8kdrpUGv3HwM88z3NmMD7JgSWw-lnmjWWxGTQ/s1600/IMG_0825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2eZ6fYPoxUeXpg6u16JZgZjK2pWH4o3duvha8NttdjxBZS88SzSphOONDsXnfSpY9jBABOdznYWEOTgu7tK33oJtV1EkU2aqF6-nPUE8kdrpUGv3HwM88z3NmMD7JgSWw-lnmjWWxGTQ/s1600/IMG_0825.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Adorable and slightly creepy all at the same time</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Are these things as funny as I think they are? </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
These little things that I think are so hilarious that I type them out and send them into the unknown worlds on the Internet... If I didn't think that they were of worth I wouldn't put them on here to have to read later or to share with Samantha and Easton when they are older. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>But what do I know?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I spend all day, everyday with two laser-gun-loving, princess-dress-wearing kids.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I might be losing my mind...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Send help! </i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-24780276048664091902015-04-14T00:26:00.000-05:002015-04-14T00:30:21.359-05:00Weekend Trip to Healesville Over Easter weekend Blake and I decided to escape the city for a few days with the kids. We rented a car, called up for a small cottage, and headed out for the long Easter weekend in the town of Healesville in Yarra Valley.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZTQJSzTonSH7hyhVCJk1dexxqKTcihzTG9tNRjxGpDHbT14IpyYV6k0cc4rVaFIiEMoXb1IHvubhjqGzhZa8t_c8se-J0lmLm6OOWKPxq0W5w5mhFHwJVA-hcOe6wq3l4jB_csapDAAA/s1600/DSC_0050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZTQJSzTonSH7hyhVCJk1dexxqKTcihzTG9tNRjxGpDHbT14IpyYV6k0cc4rVaFIiEMoXb1IHvubhjqGzhZa8t_c8se-J0lmLm6OOWKPxq0W5w5mhFHwJVA-hcOe6wq3l4jB_csapDAAA/s1600/DSC_0050.jpg" height="400" width="267" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLAFcL2kKGHu1y7R0sfCHw-V7vf554Y-qLICf7bTjnAtJAMNQxtgpEIEb5hAj_MYv6nBms8BS5Q_FvoZC18LieQcCWkCgRt32HA3y7M3iFjsaohyphenhyphenABIWNIOC0ZRMxo91rTURy2RYQQ9SQ/s1600/DSC_0053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLAFcL2kKGHu1y7R0sfCHw-V7vf554Y-qLICf7bTjnAtJAMNQxtgpEIEb5hAj_MYv6nBms8BS5Q_FvoZC18LieQcCWkCgRt32HA3y7M3iFjsaohyphenhyphenABIWNIOC0ZRMxo91rTURy2RYQQ9SQ/s1600/DSC_0053.jpg" height="400" width="267" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCmWsySnIlolpIMvcK1swJ6HuqfE49wwTJeTrnCoS7yDMJjNt9_BZUFmOnqrT4tIdY22qBH2e7FIWtcEE_QQkv8fBK_qJekG1yGW5LIN_V32ilWa5kYhyphenhyphenevecMkzq_5yd1FW0_09YUT8/s1600/DSC_0059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCmWsySnIlolpIMvcK1swJ6HuqfE49wwTJeTrnCoS7yDMJjNt9_BZUFmOnqrT4tIdY22qBH2e7FIWtcEE_QQkv8fBK_qJekG1yGW5LIN_V32ilWa5kYhyphenhyphenevecMkzq_5yd1FW0_09YUT8/s1600/DSC_0059.jpg" height="400" width="267" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBwXu3-FRFAioTxFseme-Je5aAxewtRSbIhlE-iacIA0x813K8UvlDqXBt4BeLCUqU0A7uajFQTtR1_p5Uf8QIU6w7g86qIb2rAlxAfaUI0bKtZ3eiJSw1NGVHTYboxW0HKedCk_ybB0/s1600/DSC_0026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBwXu3-FRFAioTxFseme-Je5aAxewtRSbIhlE-iacIA0x813K8UvlDqXBt4BeLCUqU0A7uajFQTtR1_p5Uf8QIU6w7g86qIb2rAlxAfaUI0bKtZ3eiJSw1NGVHTYboxW0HKedCk_ybB0/s1600/DSC_0026.jpg" height="400" width="267" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We saw a ton of kangaroos!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Every morning at dawn and each evening at dusk they would bound out of the woods to graze in the grass in front of our cottage. They were so fun, but after watching them fight with each other, we decided that it would not be fun to have a run-in with one of them. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7LSeP1jdtOgvj1G585O3u9MsnqNgXG5OX_8jDMDu9HApVro07pnsfNavnsTr3KN-Z9wyNXzcSVEh-M0tzONt0NuY6hu5hTimQY_OGr11afbe_tN1ZfHp88BFTDAbVBYQYGuvaNJaQWRU/s1600/DSC_0120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7LSeP1jdtOgvj1G585O3u9MsnqNgXG5OX_8jDMDu9HApVro07pnsfNavnsTr3KN-Z9wyNXzcSVEh-M0tzONt0NuY6hu5hTimQY_OGr11afbe_tN1ZfHp88BFTDAbVBYQYGuvaNJaQWRU/s1600/DSC_0120.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4pj7zjuL8-QNU3lj_qTHL58d1Ryr9OE9prAv3a6-vDdhI1Xq-ZYAFgZqcvl_RmOj9d9OccZG7r_IdO3QFvXQhslFyDIcoVitsmuHX89OtyF3o2zxAd4C-lVCP41Rh87p7eIWlWXr_UcA/s1600/DSC_0127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4pj7zjuL8-QNU3lj_qTHL58d1Ryr9OE9prAv3a6-vDdhI1Xq-ZYAFgZqcvl_RmOj9d9OccZG7r_IdO3QFvXQhslFyDIcoVitsmuHX89OtyF3o2zxAd4C-lVCP41Rh87p7eIWlWXr_UcA/s1600/DSC_0127.jpg" height="275" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ybqafsHjoA9N-saLqgzTQbKNpVgNIexZnlsLzO665dMzo1kUbF7Hl4VJsC1LkwnLvrat1YxMil_NIEE0Q-eYxPD1S6VURFCf7OtK92sG9WQkOONifGhQZVRqkhKFefThShvpDgZPi-Q/s1600/DSC_0074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ybqafsHjoA9N-saLqgzTQbKNpVgNIexZnlsLzO665dMzo1kUbF7Hl4VJsC1LkwnLvrat1YxMil_NIEE0Q-eYxPD1S6VURFCf7OtK92sG9WQkOONifGhQZVRqkhKFefThShvpDgZPi-Q/s1600/DSC_0074.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
On the Saturday before Easter we ventured to the "Hedgend Maze" where they had a huge maze made of actual hedges, which is simply unheard of to Blake and myself with an exception of what we had seen on Harry Potter. <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I am sure that there wasn't a single person there who enjoyed me popping around leafy corners pointing and shooting at them with my invisible wand. Why can't people get into the spirit? I mean, really?</i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvtANdTUzUStpqaesFMlyQQCAVq0NPvBUItHeN9AddWGha8FO06tgJ6MpqG964I0kSQTkUSx1PdX6pRiIXIB65u9-FzGcpWyGsWVvxONm8ta5gx66JWDf5KLNnczqdN_52ybmICkSyFZk/s1600/DSC_0128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvtANdTUzUStpqaesFMlyQQCAVq0NPvBUItHeN9AddWGha8FO06tgJ6MpqG964I0kSQTkUSx1PdX6pRiIXIB65u9-FzGcpWyGsWVvxONm8ta5gx66JWDf5KLNnczqdN_52ybmICkSyFZk/s1600/DSC_0128.jpg" height="441" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPUu0cvd08GEYm5WGp9ZEO7in_dsb8olHjc2-eRGboFs3zWEelqjOIqTzxTnwvC5xcBzfzYMMBQgOO8AQpsKUXQ2udby-kkRM-iNIzI21_taDQ_S7BviyzgJ1MmIlbReagYaxktI8KU4/s1600/DSC_0135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPUu0cvd08GEYm5WGp9ZEO7in_dsb8olHjc2-eRGboFs3zWEelqjOIqTzxTnwvC5xcBzfzYMMBQgOO8AQpsKUXQ2udby-kkRM-iNIzI21_taDQ_S7BviyzgJ1MmIlbReagYaxktI8KU4/s1600/DSC_0135.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8iZIX40pJCgnQfXYGhe671SvlWQHRuaUlSGQWp4wP8UVDJDZTJfow7gZIyd5t2swgfkeOQ4_Ny9YNpg9QqcR_dhKXRTR4HUxNm-q9XizcktdvUmXEHP0X-oUKRlr5SBnRB5wedN6nZSI/s1600/DSC_0129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8iZIX40pJCgnQfXYGhe671SvlWQHRuaUlSGQWp4wP8UVDJDZTJfow7gZIyd5t2swgfkeOQ4_Ny9YNpg9QqcR_dhKXRTR4HUxNm-q9XizcktdvUmXEHP0X-oUKRlr5SBnRB5wedN6nZSI/s1600/DSC_0129.jpg" height="267" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgdVtUBgSKXweethjeIRZGaGDeHkUpTPx1yQjyA17tPsGeGsTKkfzly2moKxXpEuEFDtfH3WbYq_jYw7os8dPIdT6eJm8U7k-sMDsexXm2ow1M1YzcrR3NdNFDIqud6hiXvxJ2jto_BY/s1600/DSC_0133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgdVtUBgSKXweethjeIRZGaGDeHkUpTPx1yQjyA17tPsGeGsTKkfzly2moKxXpEuEFDtfH3WbYq_jYw7os8dPIdT6eJm8U7k-sMDsexXm2ow1M1YzcrR3NdNFDIqud6hiXvxJ2jto_BY/s1600/DSC_0133.jpg" height="640" width="427" /></a></div>
<br />
On Sunday, we awoke to a slight fog and the blessing that Christ had indeed died and risen for our sins. We stretched, ate a quick breakfast of hot cross buns <i>- an Australian tradition - </i>, and gathered into the car. We went to the Yarra Valley Chocolaterie, which was so appropriate to visit on Easter Sunday because it was the absolute definition of Heaven on Earth.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Is that blasphemous to say?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The grounds of the chocolaterie were gorgeous, surrounded by fields growing perfectly placed rows of grapevines and well-groomed horses grazing lazily amongst the mountains and valleys. The store itself was full of chocolate concoctions of all sorts, chocolate teas, chocolate syrups, chocolate lotions... chocolate, chocolate, chocolate. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Hosted by the chocolaterie, the kids ran through a field, searching under buckets to secure the hope of a perfect, delicate milk chocolate egg. Then, to celebrate the success of their hunt, we all shared hot chocolate that is exactly what I imagined it would taste like on <i>The Polar Express</i> on Christmas Eve. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCM9LcmRbUtOe9jFSp27Bfd7eSkZSF2UYxiF4Pt1IgsmOKdjBeatg7nbAOoWOEFqyHEF9komuYlwqSmevzOMnnlj8ZVqSYBE_ViZrDBi2poA90SPI9rxC1820t7P5riHKPxhkecweMO7k/s1600/DSC_0140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCM9LcmRbUtOe9jFSp27Bfd7eSkZSF2UYxiF4Pt1IgsmOKdjBeatg7nbAOoWOEFqyHEF9komuYlwqSmevzOMnnlj8ZVqSYBE_ViZrDBi2poA90SPI9rxC1820t7P5riHKPxhkecweMO7k/s1600/DSC_0140.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSv7J_CsjRicih_eGnjI1QlmUymzHMQEQd7ydvPUxOvYu7tJMxXOLNcucq2enMxzkeRR6xbj-mjhxwM9QWwu0KRsSJ0E-ALKJfIZ0Mg5TrjnrkwzfMwNTtlThpg96qzsRNpjE5nXDsxL0/s1600/DSC_0144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSv7J_CsjRicih_eGnjI1QlmUymzHMQEQd7ydvPUxOvYu7tJMxXOLNcucq2enMxzkeRR6xbj-mjhxwM9QWwu0KRsSJ0E-ALKJfIZ0Mg5TrjnrkwzfMwNTtlThpg96qzsRNpjE5nXDsxL0/s1600/DSC_0144.jpg" height="640" width="430" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
<i>I think it is safe to say that Samantha and Easton were on one giant sugar high the whole weekend. </i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbQ12LckLgA624TsFbCv8WG0QQWV5jb280bkJuUEjIhpRXXRBqEhb63MC8uRS82B9TJBwoIyNl7225abhUkN6T8698FgFQP2CROKrEdVMRnOgthUeMvnN1CZfZCeC41LYd4DnWOtmDvJI/s1600/DSC_0172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbQ12LckLgA624TsFbCv8WG0QQWV5jb280bkJuUEjIhpRXXRBqEhb63MC8uRS82B9TJBwoIyNl7225abhUkN6T8698FgFQP2CROKrEdVMRnOgthUeMvnN1CZfZCeC41LYd4DnWOtmDvJI/s1600/DSC_0172.jpg" height="436" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"> <i>Cotton candy, anyone?</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPKiASbdejtt_azl7XWJFRcBink7EW5YJ2cq11056y7C-J89uqRin4xY4ntiz9pxQhg8EAFF76Yekx1RTzkST_Oaf-iOhFA8IlGmVN2bXyAYfgUF-9Z24__qPbTycFdnU7JSRuNM6cYc/s1600/DSC_0154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPKiASbdejtt_azl7XWJFRcBink7EW5YJ2cq11056y7C-J89uqRin4xY4ntiz9pxQhg8EAFF76Yekx1RTzkST_Oaf-iOhFA8IlGmVN2bXyAYfgUF-9Z24__qPbTycFdnU7JSRuNM6cYc/s1600/DSC_0154.jpg" height="640" width="440" /></a></div>
<br />
On Monday, we loaded up the car full of all kinds of goodies that I would obviously have gathered, like a squirrel preparing for winter... I mean, it had been over two months without a vehicle to transport things to and from our home. We were definitely taking advantage of the trunk space.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikpxisoiWoWcJ1DJeDDt5swvguc6Un7R1tvr44l63Hg0he6fLQqW-Qs8kBsd8xwpScV6ClyABKPcOg2-F48VYiEGLyxoox_KoiQhQqe1uRGxuk3j-MyaUmIyNO7m4iKHPjS9iPI6cd5ys/s1600/DSC_0182.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikpxisoiWoWcJ1DJeDDt5swvguc6Un7R1tvr44l63Hg0he6fLQqW-Qs8kBsd8xwpScV6ClyABKPcOg2-F48VYiEGLyxoox_KoiQhQqe1uRGxuk3j-MyaUmIyNO7m4iKHPjS9iPI6cd5ys/s1600/DSC_0182.jpg" height="640" width="428" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>They weren't kidding! </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Watch out for kangaroos!!</i></div>
<br />
Soon we were back outside of our apartment building unloading the cases of Coca-Cola, laundry detergent, giant boxes of Fruit Loops, and bottles upon bottles of wine.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Yarra Valley is known for its beautiful wines so, of course, we had to take advantage.</i> </div>
<br />
It was a fabulous, relaxing weekend.<br />
We can't wait to go back!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIdG2L3PqIikL78e2vDUaI96MS39z-rfe_JOqTxkFHyiB_KdALsV88GPjljqY5SFqGXFcQ-jju0Ndqpvmcj5_DxqDvtCHfyrZ36fqUJ9hDTOIhip5FQqVriYSFHeupTjelrps8cyT_uY/s1600/DSC_0205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIdG2L3PqIikL78e2vDUaI96MS39z-rfe_JOqTxkFHyiB_KdALsV88GPjljqY5SFqGXFcQ-jju0Ndqpvmcj5_DxqDvtCHfyrZ36fqUJ9hDTOIhip5FQqVriYSFHeupTjelrps8cyT_uY/s1600/DSC_0205.jpg" height="444" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> And just for good measure... A final picture of a kangaroo (or two). </i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-45113803932071348832015-04-06T19:30:00.001-05:002015-04-06T19:33:52.341-05:00A Dear John Letter to My Temporary FurnitureDear Temporary Furniture,<br />
<br />
This has been a long time coming, and I guess that I must have known from the first time that we met that we would not last for forever.<br />
<br />
I mean, don't get me wrong, you are lovely in your own way and there are so many others out there that might not mind a little wear and tacky coloring. <i>(Like college students... You'd be perfect in a fraternity house!) </i>I am, however, in love with another color scheme and a completely different kind of style. You have sharp edges, unflattering lines, and are made up of polyester blends. I am more attracted to dark mahogany, smooth curves, and crisp linen or a simple basket-weave pattern.<br />
<br />
Additionally, I have noticed lately that you have not been taking care of yourself... That tear on the back of the couch cushion was not there when we first got together, and I am a little concerned that your quality just is not up to par with what my family needs to live comfortably. You can not possibly expect us to tiptoe around your delicacies just because you do not hold yourself to the highest standards. Double stitching is really the only way to go nowadays. <br />
<br />
Privately, I have been dreaming about snuggling in another bed with other sheets and another comforter. You are not there in those dreams, and I am happier, much happier. My pillow is fluffier <i>(and not crunchy)</i> and feeling the support and care of another is simply thrilling. You just do not cut it in the bedroom any longer. I have needs, you know! <br />
<br />
I must confess that I have been using you for the past two months. You were there and available when I needed the comforts of home. I did not have another option then, but now that something better is waiting on the horizon, you must leave. I need to make room for something better, and that better something is not you. I need you to be gone by Thursday.<br />
<br />
I am sorry that it has had to end this way. It's not you, it's me...? I just need some space...? I'm not at a place in my life where I can commit...? Who am I kidding, I hate you.<br />
<br />
XOXO<br />
Kim <br />
<br />
PS I'm keeping the TV, the DVD player, and the toaster. Bye, Felicia.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-47426735319646878752015-03-29T01:01:00.002-05:002015-03-29T01:07:04.934-05:00Ten Things that I've Started Doing in Australia that People Should Do All the Time (#6-10)Here are the remaining things that I have started doing since moving to Australia that I really should have been doing for a long time and should continue to do once we move back to the States... If you missed the first five things, you can check that list out <span style="color: red;"><a href="http://bluegrassandgreentomatoes.blogspot.com.au/2015/03/ten-things-that-ive-started-doing-in.html" target="_blank">here</a></span>. <b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>#6 Use Cloth Bags</b><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwlC5BxT2LpKlSxTcW28vVK3Gk3kYFI9jXys-is6kOi6NShQO189E36fmYA87EjZxRqS2oBxJWrvUwLOLPKA7Ej8vi9Lf_ui_5PPQ65eYB4w5a7mSGDNU6FvyKb3KZ_KK2BNMqpHikYg8/s1600/FullSizeRender+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwlC5BxT2LpKlSxTcW28vVK3Gk3kYFI9jXys-is6kOi6NShQO189E36fmYA87EjZxRqS2oBxJWrvUwLOLPKA7Ej8vi9Lf_ui_5PPQ65eYB4w5a7mSGDNU6FvyKb3KZ_KK2BNMqpHikYg8/s1600/FullSizeRender+7.jpg" height="320" width="307" /></a>I love the idea of doing my part to make the world a better and healthier place. I have always cut the plastic rings that come off of canned drinks <i>(even though Blake says that the dolphins are safe from that kind of stuff now)</i>, have never purposefully littered, and I recycle the things that I know can be recycled. When I lived in Houston, I even bought a dozen reusable bags from HEB totally expecting to use them every trip that I took to the grocery store.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I think I might have used them once. </i><br />
<i>I forgot them in the back of the Jeep every trip. </i><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Since we've moved here, we feel like amateurs without our cloth bags. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>That first day at the QVM (Queen Victoria Market) surrounded by people with their cloth bags or the sign the says "Do you really need plastic bags?" hanging over the bags when you checkout...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>It is social shaming, I tell you!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Aside from being environmentally savvy and "<i>like the cool kids"</i>, it makes sense for us to use cloth bags since they have to hold up through the distance that we have to travel to get back home with our goods. </div>
</div>
<br />
<b>#7 Make Smoothies</b><br />
I'm not a crazy smoothie-making person.<br />
I only like the sweet, fruity smoothies at Smoothie King, and I can never seem to clean out my blender without cutting my finger. <b> </b><br />
But... I was getting desperate trying to find ways for Samantha and Easton to get some veggies into their systems.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>They refuse to eat a lot of the food that is common here.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Every night at dinner there is a constant battle to get them to eat.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Endless compromising is the only way to get them to eat those two tiny bites of broccoli.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i> "Do you want dessert? Well? Do you?!"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After buying a blender with the Australian plug, I've started making smoothies for them with the fresh fruits and veggies that we pick up at the market each week. <i>(And carry home in our cloth bags...) </i>I don't think I've ever bought so much spinach and kale. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Who am I kidding? I never bought kale.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>... Didn't even know what it was until I googled it.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm so sneaky, but, hey, they are getting some vegetables now without promises of ice cream or Tims Tams. <i> </i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY8_fPiFXZt7zlVt5OddVduLOTWMPzs4MemmIln2Ht1ajh6ASRwyX1USLHCUTadejMwA2KojSKiF2JKWkhkfnTEPGumGdkmeQA72T8dlbC_3oug5lncJD2bzVbLpQiOjBhDJa-wT9t-nc/s1600/FullSizeRender+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY8_fPiFXZt7zlVt5OddVduLOTWMPzs4MemmIln2Ht1ajh6ASRwyX1USLHCUTadejMwA2KojSKiF2JKWkhkfnTEPGumGdkmeQA72T8dlbC_3oug5lncJD2bzVbLpQiOjBhDJa-wT9t-nc/s1600/FullSizeRender+5.jpg" height="324" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Success!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<b>#8 Shop at Local Markets</b><br />
It's cheaper, it's fresher, and it's local to the community.<br />
Enough said.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Plus, where else can you find the best doughnuts, wine, kangaroo ribs, tacky souvenirs, and watermelon all at the same time?</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51Zoxl19JdPltz8KYOncB24oG97vi6Uc_abz5JNrHDmQonvKtdFkzqwMtt_YRtKLuGMIzb0NPUTdc3pT_F1hO4q_h3MsOJWBWVZ_2qs8EKD6YBxZ6_m8ezHyh6TyvORxJWljEmdE4Rrw/s1600/IMG_0587.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51Zoxl19JdPltz8KYOncB24oG97vi6Uc_abz5JNrHDmQonvKtdFkzqwMtt_YRtKLuGMIzb0NPUTdc3pT_F1hO4q_h3MsOJWBWVZ_2qs8EKD6YBxZ6_m8ezHyh6TyvORxJWljEmdE4Rrw/s1600/IMG_0587.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i> </i><b> </b><i>See the kale?!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Third time in my entire life to ever purchase, recorded here!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<b>#9 Leave Your Doors and Windows Open</b><br />
<b> </b>When Blake and I signed our lease for our apartment, we had to agree to open the windows and/or doors for at least ten minutes every day to help prevent the growth of mold.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Crazy, right?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>When I asked why, the realtor looked at me as though I was the crazy one.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Trying to be the good tenants that we are, I started making a honest attempt at opening the balcony doors, and soon I discovered that - the fresh air, the street sounds, the smells of the local restaurants wafting into the apartment - it was really kinda nice. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When I was a kid in Tennessee and even in Oklahoma, we used to open the windows around the house all the time. I guess that moving to Houston, we stopped opening the windows.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>The mosquitoes are scary aggressive.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I'm not kidding.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQcpOIwuQ7OizbxB3VxxUMf6EKeSdjTqf1xmUpScgvwoAd_liUZfMyPVz8sHsxHZgJrzqoSqt0pyb6w3Bm_-lwlvQJvGVOGR8Efw0kAYyLmfLMIJsYBEc7CLQ_uhWvVcT7g2OfZ5dZYU/s1600/FullSizeRender+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQcpOIwuQ7OizbxB3VxxUMf6EKeSdjTqf1xmUpScgvwoAd_liUZfMyPVz8sHsxHZgJrzqoSqt0pyb6w3Bm_-lwlvQJvGVOGR8Efw0kAYyLmfLMIJsYBEc7CLQ_uhWvVcT7g2OfZ5dZYU/s1600/FullSizeRender+6.jpg" height="640" width="634" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(This is not our apartment, just an adorable bookstore with their windows open. - How cute is this place, though!?)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>Everyone here has their windows and doors open; they seem to enjoy that fresh air too.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>And there are no mosquitoes! </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Again, I'm not kidding.</i></div>
<br />
<b>#10 Think about Christmas and Birthdays Non-Stop</b><br />
Okay, so I have always tried to get an early start on Christmas shopping <i>(say in like September/October)</i> and I like to always stay ahead of the birthday gift-thing, but since moving here... I'm at a whole other level of gift-shopping than <i>"over-achiever"</i>. <i> </i><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I'm actually at the level of "crazy, OCD over-achiever".</i> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It is the end of March, and I'm already rocking the Christmas list and birthday gifts. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Being over here, I feel a certain amount of pressure <i>(that I have put on myself) </i>to come up with outstanding gifts for my family and friends. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Ordering something off of Amazon.com? </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>No way! I'm in flippin' Australia.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>My people are wanting kangaroos and didgeridoos!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I totally understand that no one may care about this more than I do, but I miss my nephews. I miss my family and my friends. I miss Texas and Oklahoma. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Thinking about Christmas and birthdays, picking out gifts and storing them away reminds me that I'll see everyone soon, and I had better be packing some awesome goodies to take back with me. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9uXu6TGD9PL6dMVPx3UpFk6BSEiIW5F6E66TzJWsYqvrzAdD94OBecArkHFkCwClrWiOS9wSOMqC66QPgXsdrACdYHUAlDHkXL4vDyb14uab9RkuRpsEbltwG-uq8HnMKPYt-7PbT_Fg/s1600/FullSizeRender+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9uXu6TGD9PL6dMVPx3UpFk6BSEiIW5F6E66TzJWsYqvrzAdD94OBecArkHFkCwClrWiOS9wSOMqC66QPgXsdrACdYHUAlDHkXL4vDyb14uab9RkuRpsEbltwG-uq8HnMKPYt-7PbT_Fg/s1600/FullSizeRender+8.jpg" height="626" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(From the front of a little gift I bought for the littlest member of the family...)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">So... I've listed my ten things. I probably could have thought of a few more to add, but these seem like things that I would be able to do and should do once we aren't here. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Unlike "Say 'G-day, mate!' at least twelve times a day"...</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>That one probably wouldn't work back home.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Maybe this list will help me remember when I get home...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: small;">G'day mate! </span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>(Whew! There's twelve for today!)</i> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-28236459780359405932015-03-25T22:00:00.000-05:002015-03-25T22:03:23.791-05:00Brighton Beach Bathing Boxes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Blake decided to take the day off from work today.<br />
While the kids and I had been to a few places outside of Melbourne, Blake hadn't escaped the city with the one exception of heading to Albert Park for the Grand Prix. <br />
<br />
We work up, ate breakfast, got dressed, and made a beeline for the train station. Descending down underground to Platform 13, we boarded the train towards Sandringham.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsJoE3x0nnb2iS-7DiWcjeYZezdclOyZphUXMuzYbRVO1YZ_8Mp2TaIMtPRKYYkEs8oVZtWQFm4EyEgFM6cqVvbG_SLkqb9Dj4FgxA_igxJwLEdVVcm9JIyHCnucXFTxQ3XtaG_0KfAg/s1600/DSC_0168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsJoE3x0nnb2iS-7DiWcjeYZezdclOyZphUXMuzYbRVO1YZ_8Mp2TaIMtPRKYYkEs8oVZtWQFm4EyEgFM6cqVvbG_SLkqb9Dj4FgxA_igxJwLEdVVcm9JIyHCnucXFTxQ3XtaG_0KfAg/s1600/DSC_0168.jpg" height="640" width="425" /></a></div>
<br />
Exiting at Brighton Beach, we made the 1.5km walk along the shoreline towards its most famous beach, Dendy Street Beach. Here we found the iconic Brighton Bathing Boxes that line the coast with the most colorful appeal. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6bnvxaZ2UxprwkOYIhOpM1QiQ1BluBaWHLt68cyilN6HTlSOmHwlXFj6BIRk96gD0kG4Iet-bFjjCZG97tRBb9QXvsdjQfOnC4gNjWaRGDoOKe8uXj71KlHNLcMy6VCa550IutvtUFk/s1600/DSC_0192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6bnvxaZ2UxprwkOYIhOpM1QiQ1BluBaWHLt68cyilN6HTlSOmHwlXFj6BIRk96gD0kG4Iet-bFjjCZG97tRBb9QXvsdjQfOnC4gNjWaRGDoOKe8uXj71KlHNLcMy6VCa550IutvtUFk/s1600/DSC_0192.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
There are currently 82 bathing boxes standing in Brighton, and though there are several thousands on the beaches of Australia, these are popular because of their close proximity to Melbourne's central business district, where we live.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaYRM4vf13u4mSliYRd-Ro10omH7fiPSn3UKuMP2weDkZ4_CUOpZGp2a_6M1Olku5AmlyrXyQvYG6v4qLUUpOcL4VX8L1PSKJsODBW3P8PpZR0zLbcJ09Wj-bCYL_ULGLb2_Wpeb73_R8/s1600/DSC_0215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaYRM4vf13u4mSliYRd-Ro10omH7fiPSn3UKuMP2weDkZ4_CUOpZGp2a_6M1Olku5AmlyrXyQvYG6v4qLUUpOcL4VX8L1PSKJsODBW3P8PpZR0zLbcJ09Wj-bCYL_ULGLb2_Wpeb73_R8/s1600/DSC_0215.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
They are crazy gorgeous and festive and just downright fun. They are owned by local individuals and are used for storage and personal space. <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Easton and Samantha made a solid effort trying to open the door of pretty much all 82... </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>We were there awhile.</i> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEPVrYYB2r174Z8pet_E56nLiMcBZ_Q56xwq_6X3QbxBjoq4Y0-Yg1iX5JDtLJp5gnxWLq-_QBnmR9kMTBa9EMUIAzVITEzmkQAr4CG7TRXpLHKv4Yen9hBuJ8KyNW_iqooaPMv9HOGHs/s1600/DSC_0239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEPVrYYB2r174Z8pet_E56nLiMcBZ_Q56xwq_6X3QbxBjoq4Y0-Yg1iX5JDtLJp5gnxWLq-_QBnmR9kMTBa9EMUIAzVITEzmkQAr4CG7TRXpLHKv4Yen9hBuJ8KyNW_iqooaPMv9HOGHs/s1600/DSC_0239.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
In 2008 the boxes were being sold at around $200,000A each! Totally crazy considering the lack of amenities...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMMXwwGoOqC0VAxAWhDYg_OuSzpuTDE7O-97K-egGepDawjHY6jdEYB84TqEnwXHYAjWU8rUDo74__fDfHFvPjWYObwSdKrdkktnnFguAntdgY3iwLT95Vy3XRALhVmboxa2RhmoQOtqs/s1600/DSC_0244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMMXwwGoOqC0VAxAWhDYg_OuSzpuTDE7O-97K-egGepDawjHY6jdEYB84TqEnwXHYAjWU8rUDo74__fDfHFvPjWYObwSdKrdkktnnFguAntdgY3iwLT95Vy3XRALhVmboxa2RhmoQOtqs/s1600/DSC_0244.jpg" height="640" width="428" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>How cool would it be, though, to walk up to your bathing box and be like,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>"Umm... Yea. This is mine."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i> </i> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHgxRznn-Efu7anGsFVxtRR52FdSUPy4iHAqMM3iTj6sSjevfwdCLXl-PpCs2kq0ZEiOiVMNcP9GsdYoKwK2HPbvWW0F37SruyZANLT1H5WSe2PfgZmuY_7kRcqNOUKjEFLOyXvBpbWc/s1600/DSC_0250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHgxRznn-Efu7anGsFVxtRR52FdSUPy4iHAqMM3iTj6sSjevfwdCLXl-PpCs2kq0ZEiOiVMNcP9GsdYoKwK2HPbvWW0F37SruyZANLT1H5WSe2PfgZmuY_7kRcqNOUKjEFLOyXvBpbWc/s1600/DSC_0250.jpg" height="640" width="427" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>We'd actually have to live in it full-time, and since it is essentially a storage shed it probably wouldn't work out all that well, huh? </i> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMBE6PzU8mx9pYZPL60AzPUWgqqPGOC3SLJssa7o8cKLvQlJ2UjvgjukQgmSr9MrckHV5fHL6UQ5cOT80DzUap-jaxka5ERONN9O-IDNFJtGNCTgMsUD2FmVNGqmL9QLhAGyl2JucicfI/s1600/DSC_0252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMBE6PzU8mx9pYZPL60AzPUWgqqPGOC3SLJssa7o8cKLvQlJ2UjvgjukQgmSr9MrckHV5fHL6UQ5cOT80DzUap-jaxka5ERONN9O-IDNFJtGNCTgMsUD2FmVNGqmL9QLhAGyl2JucicfI/s1600/DSC_0252.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>How cute are these, though? </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I'd definitely paint mine lime green... </i> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZoP7tONmU4GnF6UTawrgNASvazSSKJwZYRrZNFPWkQqIVtSrU8n0yKZfmDqNidr-3Uvq2QkUKJpK4eOuBdRTM2TkDOKNC1kZDaLaeCiT1SB9mdcTJu7JPQPiuXxXriBiyPnQ8gEQ8YvY/s1600/DSC_0265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZoP7tONmU4GnF6UTawrgNASvazSSKJwZYRrZNFPWkQqIVtSrU8n0yKZfmDqNidr-3Uvq2QkUKJpK4eOuBdRTM2TkDOKNC1kZDaLaeCiT1SB9mdcTJu7JPQPiuXxXriBiyPnQ8gEQ8YvY/s1600/DSC_0265.jpg" height="640" width="428" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>... And paint pictures of boxes taking showers all over it because I would find it hilariously ironic.</i> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkS7KKHmocGDtiX7xfrEIqkL-6_85pNLfGJLp-sY6kZnhqrgPuPkIn_lyPX9ZpZ7Iu5BNS_W69Z8DAn37iCYS_pvmmA9AWpj9kv_DSd-8O1Jh32UpKmqhijyjyzli6Tjp1j6J_JTWkovo/s1600/DSC_0301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkS7KKHmocGDtiX7xfrEIqkL-6_85pNLfGJLp-sY6kZnhqrgPuPkIn_lyPX9ZpZ7Iu5BNS_W69Z8DAn37iCYS_pvmmA9AWpj9kv_DSd-8O1Jh32UpKmqhijyjyzli6Tjp1j6J_JTWkovo/s1600/DSC_0301.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFaofUXCYuZw6yf8i0cSGkqdi2T6OD3JY_4qUkloQS6wTjWyjSUCIGfiYXq55eue_gP_rGUqNspd3kJm5FuIf_Zc5cRPh0VzHE22q0EswjUcX0Nv_CA_OqREkuUnHYWbkeoiTOoHyD4Ck/s1600/DSC_0356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFaofUXCYuZw6yf8i0cSGkqdi2T6OD3JY_4qUkloQS6wTjWyjSUCIGfiYXq55eue_gP_rGUqNspd3kJm5FuIf_Zc5cRPh0VzHE22q0EswjUcX0Nv_CA_OqREkuUnHYWbkeoiTOoHyD4Ck/s1600/DSC_0356.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjwK6WbXRP3KLAIz_20ZS2yQ_WFzrWoCW4oeGXyZZVKQvs3WUirQdnG6hugqwz4wsUfvQ8geNiPiEfZ7CjPYxlp2YX5ZSCA6gOTi-ValAULvxajsX7ikDAM_vsayIgple2HO7Va4LEDZI/s1600/DSC_0391.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjwK6WbXRP3KLAIz_20ZS2yQ_WFzrWoCW4oeGXyZZVKQvs3WUirQdnG6hugqwz4wsUfvQ8geNiPiEfZ7CjPYxlp2YX5ZSCA6gOTi-ValAULvxajsX7ikDAM_vsayIgple2HO7Va4LEDZI/s1600/DSC_0391.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Samantha and Easton loved the beach more than anything else.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Easton actually told me how much fun he was having more than once.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>It made my heart happy.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Then I thought about "bathing boxes" and may have laughed out loud. </i> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2sXDvOsGeI6n5P9OdHlla2RKxrjdx6ETT-ukhEmO0RhHBihyniK2HN9VnRAcyk8pxvl2vrc5FhTkAOvza0A17x-oy1uckjnCgKoE6ldegp7rereL7jujfTP8CwcuePk1zp3l3VRlAco/s1600/DSC_0415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2sXDvOsGeI6n5P9OdHlla2RKxrjdx6ETT-ukhEmO0RhHBihyniK2HN9VnRAcyk8pxvl2vrc5FhTkAOvza0A17x-oy1uckjnCgKoE6ldegp7rereL7jujfTP8CwcuePk1zp3l3VRlAco/s1600/DSC_0415.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7bzNnavPmVbDrQEzEKwE19blIzb0BbOTVzilO5IUg6mUZbj3Zs-f59m6y5KF4EDX6Jo8Y6TVnyjCqapf2GVyz5YcPj7fGnOVbbUOI0f8G_f9zRdtzc37hJeVF_AagSuV5I3DuiEBIaS0/s1600/DSC_0405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7bzNnavPmVbDrQEzEKwE19blIzb0BbOTVzilO5IUg6mUZbj3Zs-f59m6y5KF4EDX6Jo8Y6TVnyjCqapf2GVyz5YcPj7fGnOVbbUOI0f8G_f9zRdtzc37hJeVF_AagSuV5I3DuiEBIaS0/s1600/DSC_0405.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAmYG2tpbkhZAF9ltiMhA5UrJY5kK5l9nJS6YFXdHKim-iaHeShSeIDegr3ZWobsUUMgM1O-r_MsWEbDiFIvE0HRVepVv86YmW7eqkIHDqCkj81hQBsqoy_81sousJuP3EkB9eyMb4jwk/s1600/DSC_0430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAmYG2tpbkhZAF9ltiMhA5UrJY5kK5l9nJS6YFXdHKim-iaHeShSeIDegr3ZWobsUUMgM1O-r_MsWEbDiFIvE0HRVepVv86YmW7eqkIHDqCkj81hQBsqoy_81sousJuP3EkB9eyMb4jwk/s1600/DSC_0430.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNEtvyodkdBOQXSTaEzUoatcdYVfhW9dXy8rrEpeal8Q-3kd50jMl9HClWwSOMzhXApv7ouUZSZ5w-V7wyBZZy__SyuHZYDLTlGeEpWf9qLO6BWFdX7RgM-0u4_PxbK_EHmD1aCgqa6Tk/s1600/DSC_0442.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNEtvyodkdBOQXSTaEzUoatcdYVfhW9dXy8rrEpeal8Q-3kd50jMl9HClWwSOMzhXApv7ouUZSZ5w-V7wyBZZy__SyuHZYDLTlGeEpWf9qLO6BWFdX7RgM-0u4_PxbK_EHmD1aCgqa6Tk/s1600/DSC_0442.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
^ <i>Can you see the shell Easton was trying to skip? </i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5o7lxoW5sYfddDdGT0RNYX15m_UTKEHQt71Ux8DTuBhd2qaGx709az8ARgqr0BFyG3MjJEEkqoZiYaT7_b4Ts0H9YEm_r2GcQe7ygE6h0-jex1HeSJWg77qKAxEkAp-ivrd2oivbhB_Q/s1600/DSC_0306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5o7lxoW5sYfddDdGT0RNYX15m_UTKEHQt71Ux8DTuBhd2qaGx709az8ARgqr0BFyG3MjJEEkqoZiYaT7_b4Ts0H9YEm_r2GcQe7ygE6h0-jex1HeSJWg77qKAxEkAp-ivrd2oivbhB_Q/s1600/DSC_0306.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
We had a great time!<br />
It really was worth all the fuss.<br />
So beautiful. <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-38005043437944349562015-03-22T23:06:00.002-05:002015-03-22T23:17:11.762-05:00Four YearsMy mom passed away four years ago today.<br />
<br />
Every year I start to feel the pressure of the day creeping towards me, closer and closer like a dense, rolling fog, until the day is upon me, and I can't breath or function properly. I can't think of anything beyond the minute by minute details that engulf me each year on this day. It is like a movie that runs right behind my eyelids, distracting me from what is actually happening around me, forcing me to relive the day once again. <br />
<br />
It was and still is the most horrible day that I have ever experienced. <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>And that says a lot because I once had a day where I had started bleeding after I had just completed a round of IVF, but that day wasn't so bad because it was also the day that Blake and I found out that we were having twins.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I had gone to school that morning. I was five months pregnant with Samantha and Easton, and I was teaching kindergarten. I was happy and tired. Blake and I had just come home from Fort Worth the weekend before where Blake's mom, dad, and the entire neighborhood had celebrated the twins with us with a wonderful baby shower that my family had driven from Oklahoma City to be a part of. We had a great time. My mom and sister, Kelsey, had bought the most precious socks from BabyGap and a yellow sweater for Samantha from Ralph Lauren Polo. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I still have those socks and that sweater.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It was a Tuesday. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I had told my mom that I was going to call her on Monday, but I didn't. I did what I did every night... I fell asleep on the couch until Blake woke me up and we went to bed. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Early into the school day, the school's principal, Helen, walked to my classroom door with the Spanish teacher, Julie. Helen wanted Julie to watch my class while I went with her to the school office. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I thought I was in trouble. I racked my brain trying to think about all of the things that I might have done or forgotten to do that I would be in trouble for. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
She led me to her office where I walked in to see Blake standing in front of her desk<i>. </i>At first I had been happy to see him, but I felt a distinct terror when I saw the look on his face. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The first thought that flew into my head was of my brother, Jonathan. I don't know why. I almost asked Blake, <i>"What happened to Jonathan?"</i>, but I couldn't bring myself to say that. All I asked was, <i>"What's wrong?".</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>"Your mom passed away this morning."</i> And I started to cry. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>She couldn't have died.</b> I was supposed to call her last night, and I didn't. I was going to call her tonight. <b> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>She couldn't have died.</b> She went to bed on Friday night and when the babies started kicking, I didn't wake her up to feel them. She never got to feel them kicking. <b> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>She couldn't have died. </b>She wasn't old. She had beaten cancer's ass for years and years... Almost twenty years. She had gotten cancer when she was so young. <b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>She couldn't have died. </b>I wasn't ready for her to be gone. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Blake drove me home, packed my bag, and put me back in the car. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We were in the car for a few hours before I even thought about Kelsey. When Blake explained to me what my little sister had to do that morning upon finding our mom, my heart cracked into two pieces. I can't even begin to describe the pain that I physically felt at that moment and for the remaining car ride to Oklahoma. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This was too horrible. This was all too much for me to handle. It was too much for Kelsey and too much for Jonathan. It was too much hurt and shock and raw pain to handle. But... Somehow we made it through that day and the next day and the next day. We all slept at Jonathan's house because we couldn't bear to not be together under the same roof during the planning and the prepping and the storm of activity that follows when someone dies. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We found that God had given us a bit of time to be together masked by a
pastor retreat at our church. Without a pastor, we couldn't have a
funeral, so we had to wait for the retreat to end. I woke up early to complete lesson plans for the substitute back at school and to write the dozens upon dozens of thank you cards to the people who sent kindness and comforts in all forms. We watched movies at night and stayed close throughout each day. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
At my mother's funeral, I felt as though I was having an out of body experience. I sat in the first row, held Blake's hand. I cried when I saw that Kristin had driven all the way from Houston to be there for me. Shaking hands with people and trying to remember that this wasn't a happy, <i>"good to see you"</i> reunion was awkward and uncomfortable. Everything felt wrong. <b> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>She couldn't have died.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
She died... </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
...Four years ago today, and it was a horrible, horrible day. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This day doesn't define who she was or what she did in her life, which, I think, is why this day is so hard. The horrible memories of that day come to the forefront of your mind, and those memories temporarily cloud all the happiness and the joy that normally surrounds you. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When you think of her you just think about how she's not there. You think about how she's not getting to hug her three (soon to be four) grandchildren. You think about all the things that she is missing. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When you think of her you don't think about how her hair was so big you could find her at the store by the height of her massive curls. You don't think about how you would sneak into her bed as a child, and you knew she was asleep if you could hear that quiet clicking in the back of her throat. You don't think about her manic rush to get to the beach before everyone else was awake just so she could claim the best spot on the sand.<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFdqV59tMChcV3rt0ehkZbn6z_ar7s5hyvfTFN2zb_hS10GeOGNz8AjBgFHRJpmBgnt5ba08cRLFn7RwIB1TPc3taDl_8rvs74aPnt1QhtPEvPMP87kunDWplGViNtlWHdkRodynCkkE8/s1600/154698_10100804051830577_266231276_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFdqV59tMChcV3rt0ehkZbn6z_ar7s5hyvfTFN2zb_hS10GeOGNz8AjBgFHRJpmBgnt5ba08cRLFn7RwIB1TPc3taDl_8rvs74aPnt1QhtPEvPMP87kunDWplGViNtlWHdkRodynCkkE8/s1600/154698_10100804051830577_266231276_n.jpg" height="380" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
These are the memories that I want to have, not the memories of March 23rd four years ago. I know that as horrible as this day was, it does not have to define what I know about my mother. She was so much more than her death and her battle with cancer. All I need is to wait for tomorrow. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-41058642543589686112015-03-19T02:01:00.000-05:002015-06-28T12:40:53.440-05:00Ten Things that I've Started Doing in Australia that People Should Do All the Time (#1-5)<br />
<b>#1 Drink Hot Tea</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUM_Tq1EiHj-6olp3I8jqUO8Rl3jX0b-aH1kRJWBV0ZDakduP6gVDLvvU_P4fUEEsAGo0bRgBFl7uMv6iHZ55Go3_beV4Re9EhimEbYCNyI3oiHJtlbbpaSyNPIKhALyTQchyE5D1lMos/s1600/IMG_0547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUM_Tq1EiHj-6olp3I8jqUO8Rl3jX0b-aH1kRJWBV0ZDakduP6gVDLvvU_P4fUEEsAGo0bRgBFl7uMv6iHZ55Go3_beV4Re9EhimEbYCNyI3oiHJtlbbpaSyNPIKhALyTQchyE5D1lMos/s1600/IMG_0547.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I have never been a big hot tea drinker <i>(where I come from we are all about the ice-cold sweet tea)</i>, but it is a daily habit that I've picked up. It probably has something to do with being provided an electric kettle until our furniture and things get here. It is super easy to turn the kettle on and have boiling water in less than a minute. Plus, it's an easy excuse to stick a Tim Tam on the side of the saucer and pretend that you're having afternoon tea... <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I don't know why I'm saying "pretending".</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Having a cup of tea with a sweet in the afternoon is exactly what afternoon tea is.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Still I feel like an American phoney drinking my tea with my little finger sticking out.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Who cares? Tim Tams are worth the fake-ery. </i></div>
<br />
<b>#2 Avoid Starbucks</b><br />
Man, I miss Starbucks. I miss it mostly because of its convenient drive-thru. I don't think Starbucks coffee is bad, but I've avoided it here because people would automatically judge me.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Australians don't like Starbucks.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>To them, it isn't "real" coffee since coffee here is strictly espresso-based.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Anyway, I immediately ignored Starbucks upon moving here, and I have had some damn good coffee while here. In America I would order a <i>"nonfat white chocolate mocha - hold the whip"</i>, and I would emerge from the drive-thru with a sugary, too sweet cup of something that could be coffee but was more like a dessert. Here I've started to really appreciate a good latte. I order a <i>"latte</i>"... no sugar...nothing more..., and you know, it is fantastic. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I don't think I'll ever be able to enjoy Starbucks as much as I once did because now I know how good a point-on cup of coffee can taste. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Hint- It tastes like sunshine on a clear blue morning with unicorns and leprechauns and such. </i></div>
<br />
<b>#3 Take Public Transportation</b><br />
My experience with public transportation is different from most mainly because I don't use the trams or trains here in Melbourne during rush hour. The kids and I take our sweet time getting to wherever we are going because I know we aren't going to get fired if we are late.<br />
I love sitting on the trains and watching the world go by. I love hopping on a tram and hopping off a tram whenever, especially since we are figuring it out and look like professionals instead of confused tourists like we did last week.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I'm not mentioning that the kids and I stood in the train station today waiting for a train that we never did find. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>We eventually made it to their bounce class. No biggie.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gyRbYnRypoOpF3zF-4Bz2yK1kdMX1xagho8u-bcBxdissnphIYA-LSx-jTtn0dmziY7P_lwLbhzpjTRK1TSTey_owXD0hoYFf9z2CuPrZpCBR9yuaedQrnqFOmGqYS2yvPksFRRNXtg/s1600/FullSizeRender+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gyRbYnRypoOpF3zF-4Bz2yK1kdMX1xagho8u-bcBxdissnphIYA-LSx-jTtn0dmziY7P_lwLbhzpjTRK1TSTey_owXD0hoYFf9z2CuPrZpCBR9yuaedQrnqFOmGqYS2yvPksFRRNXtg/s1600/FullSizeRender+3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I think I enjoy it all mostly because it is all out of my hands. I just have to get on and off. I don't have to fill it up with gas. <i>(If Blake didn't work with a company that sells oil I wouldn't have to worry about gas prices, but I do.) </i>I don't have to take anything in for an oil change. I don't have to worry that my suspension is going to go out on me or that it is going to get swiped by a new driver who hasn't figured out their right-hand turns. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>See what I did there with "right-hand turns"? </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Cause we're in Australia where they drive on the other side of the road?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>And right-hand turns are harder than left-hand turns?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>If you haven't gotten it yet - Nevermind. </i> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKaDICQeAYOIYlZZfXcBAzMD88z5woUJ07NACYHXjG4YkRyeW__kW_wnbMtgXKWBAwv9tXMvDTCokrmFuSMuVcIFp046Rc7Plz5CYh4glPhY2R8_6b_q8xqGWkoQF6lxsWVkUOPzVgFE/s1600/FullSizeRender+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKaDICQeAYOIYlZZfXcBAzMD88z5woUJ07NACYHXjG4YkRyeW__kW_wnbMtgXKWBAwv9tXMvDTCokrmFuSMuVcIFp046Rc7Plz5CYh4glPhY2R8_6b_q8xqGWkoQF6lxsWVkUOPzVgFE/s1600/FullSizeRender+4.jpg" width="320" /></a>No pressure. It's nice. (And cheap!)</div>
<br />
<b>#4 See What Your City has to Offer</b><br />
Blake and I were just discussing whether or not Houston offers the same amount of<b> </b>fun festivals and events to celebrate sporting events, holidays, or just Houston. We have no idea! Why? Because we never looked. We just hung out in suburbia and did our own thing. <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Aside from the rodeo - You'd have to live under a rock to not know about the rodeo.</i> </div>
We have loved combing through websites and newspapers, looking for cool things to be a part of. There's been White Night, the Food and Wine Festival, the Moomba Festival, the Grand Prix and so much more during the short time we've been here. We enjoyed each of these events, and it was something to look forward to and do together as a family.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>We are totally going to check out the Houston scene when we get back! </i></div>
<br />
<b>#5 Explore!</b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
It's hard to explain how easy it is to explore here in Melbourne without experiencing it yourself. The city is known for its alleyways where you turn a corner and find an amazing surprise waiting for you on the other side... It could be a quaint coffee shop, an adorable children's bookstore, a beer garden with lamb neck nachos, or the most beautiful graffiti display you have ever witnessed. <i> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I could totally explain it, but my ploy is to get you to come visit me.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>You know you want to... Don't think about the cost of the plane tickets.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>...Think about kangaroos and train stations and blue, blue water.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>(And the coffee, obviously.)</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We have also started making some plans for trips to places just outside of the city. We are hurried, almost desperate, in assuring that by the time we leave Australia, we have completely experienced everything that we possibly could while<i> </i>we were here. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br />
<br />
<i>Why didn't we act the same way when we were in Texas?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>We know that we aren't going to be here for forever, but did we think we'd be in Texas for forever?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I've been giving myself the 'ole "You aren't guaranteed tomorrow" speech since I've realized this.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
*I didn't want this to be an impossibly long post, so I've broken it up into two parts... Check back soon for the next five things that I've just started to do but I should have been doing all along, regardless of where I am in the world.<br />
** Edit ** You can find the 2nd part to my list by clicking <a href="http://bluegrassandgreentomatoes.blogspot.com/2015/03/ten-things-that-ive-started-doing-in_29.html" target="_blank">here</a>!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-19457056806661646262015-03-17T22:40:00.003-05:002015-03-17T22:55:22.254-05:00How We Continue to KnowA little over a month ago I wrote a post about how we knew we were making the right decision by moving to Melbourne. If you didn't get a chance to read it you can find it <a href="http://bluegrassandgreentomatoes.blogspot.com.au/2015/02/how-we-knew.html">here</a>. I thought that I'd take a quick moment to mention what we have experienced here in Australia that continues to bring us confidence in our decision to be here.<br />
<br />
Everything has not been easy. There has and will continue to be, I'm sure, more instances where Blake and I doubt what we are doing here. <i></i>There are times when we lose our patience with each other, especially when we miss our stop on the tram, when the kids refuse to eat the overpriced bowl of pasta that we ordered, or when we get home after our third grocery trip only to discover we forgot something essential, like peanut butter or milk.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>But, seriously, how could we have forgotten the peanut butter?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Our lives revolve around peanut butter.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
During those times when we are frustrated and starting to lose our temper, that's when I really start to wish that we weren't here. I wish that we were back in our house on Purple Finch; I wish that we were ordering pizza for dinner; I wish that we were making plans to take a quick weekend trip to Oklahoma, Dallas, or Austin. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Somewhere during that quick progression of thoughts my grandfather will pop into my head. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I remember when Blake and I were about to get married, we were sitting in front of his chair, telling him about our plans to move to Houston. Blake had just been offered a job, and we had made our decision. He was going to take it. We had received quite a bit of backlash from my mom and dad. They did not want us to move that far away. I was desperate for support in our decision. My grandfather looked at us, and then he looked at his daughter. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br />
<i>This is the best thing that could ever happen to them.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>They will move away, yes. But their marriage will stronger because of this.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Isn't that what matters? </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>That they learn to rely on each other?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>That they learn that they need each other?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>They can't run home to their mommy and daddy.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>They can only run to each other. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I think back on that a lot now. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Blake and I aren't perfect. And maybe somewhere along the line, without realizing it, we were growing apart. We weren't relying on each other or needing each other as much as we had before we settled into the comfort of an everyday life. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It's really nice to meet up for lunch throughout the week, take family walks and have a picnic on a Sunday evening. It's really nice to make plans that involve the four of us doing something together instead of making plans to do something on my own while Blake watches the kids. Since moving here we have been together so much more than when we were in Texas. <b>We have really relied on each other to simply move through our days, to parent and provide with comfort and encouragement. </b>We have really strengthened our relationships... with each other and with our children. It has been such a wonderful thing. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Like I mentioned earlier, it is not easy all the time. Sometimes, I doubt our decision so much that I can't breathe through the knot in my throat, but then... Samantha gives me an unexpected hug or Easton smiles so wide that it touches his eyes or Blake tells me what a great job I'm doing, and like that, it's all worth it. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>And I continue to know.</i><i> </i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-43795811446156749212015-03-10T00:59:00.002-05:002015-03-10T01:18:00.172-05:00Guessing GameI've just thought of this amazing game where you try to guess whether the following scenarios that I write about are either... <br />
<ol>
<li>a story about Samantha and/or Easton </li>
<li>a story about a drunken incident that has taken place within the past ten years </li>
</ol>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Rules:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<ul>
<li>I'm not going to share who the stories are about, but just know that a scenario could have been Samantha, Easton, a friend, or a family member. </li>
<li>If this story is about you... You are more than welcome to reveal yourself. </li>
</ul>
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Ready?</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Here we go!</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Scenario #1:</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Laying on the floor of a house that is not your own, cuddling with a dog that is not your own, and singing a song about how much you like peppermint. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Scenario #2:</b></div>
Leaning way too far over a balcony to throw food at animals that aren't interested at all in what you are throwing. (Example: Lime rinds to bats)<br />
<br />
<b>Scenario #3:</b><br />
Just getting back home after bedtime.<br />
Person 1: <i>It's past bedtime. Go get into bed.</i><br />
Person 2: Runs down the hall towards bedroom. Jumps in perfect parallel to the floor... Misses bed completely and lands on floor next to bed.<b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>Scenario #4:</b><br />
At a restaurant waiting for a turn in the single person bathroom.<br />
A person not part of your party knocks on the occupied bathroom door.<br />
Person 1: <i><i>It's not your turn. </i>I know who's in there, and he's busy trying to poop.</i><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<b>Scenario #5:</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Refusing to get on the glass elevator at <i>Bass Pro Shop</i> because it is just too confusing. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<b>Scenario #6:</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Blowing suggestively into someone's ear that isn't your significant other, and making that person feel ridiculously uncomfortable.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
Did you guess which story was about drunken college/pre-kid days or about parenting? </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br />
Are you ready to hear the answers?...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
I have witnessed <b>ALL </b>of these scenarios twice... Once with a three-year-old and once with a drunk twenty/thirty-something-year-old. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
This only furthers my theory that taking care of Samantha and Easton is like taking care of that annoying inebriated friend who would get themselves killed if left to their own devices. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br />
<b>Toddlers are equivalent to little drunk people.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGGep2gj-deSOv9JWmZz6sPDohTowYzdzbiGEqOtma2rVFH_j_Dm1lnlXewCGfOqt8A-L5DI9QKoZsydqmQG_kP3mmzPQNCNffV9lSBQkFE0cFqer10RtftlrrBlU0Da3LRn3xp7A_B0/s1600/IMG_0430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGGep2gj-deSOv9JWmZz6sPDohTowYzdzbiGEqOtma2rVFH_j_Dm1lnlXewCGfOqt8A-L5DI9QKoZsydqmQG_kP3mmzPQNCNffV9lSBQkFE0cFqer10RtftlrrBlU0Da3LRn3xp7A_B0/s1600/IMG_0430.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>(I'm tired just looking at these pictures...) </i> </div>
<br />
For those of you who are/have been parents of the two or three-year-old variety, you know what I mean. If you haven't yet experienced the joys of chasing after a toddler, good luck with that - Chances are, though, that you already have some decent experience with dealing with many, if not all situations you'll find yourself in.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-70669185932063999382015-03-07T03:58:00.001-06:002015-03-07T03:58:59.466-06:00The Moomba FestivalHere's a little video about our adventures today at Melbourne's Moomba Festival.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
The kids had never been to a carnival before, so we had to do a little bit of everything...</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Rides, food, shows, and games!</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I think it is safe to say that they had a blast!</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
(And tomorrow and Monday we are going back for more.)</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Enjoy!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxHnQDV0XrEGs8gEwKlWvJJxIveIX8oiKUGD95UyyKCctklUDAY0Zq17BAnEqMDJ4h3w51R6BrEK7G6BNYAJA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>(press play!)</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-82329619382257170312015-03-04T01:17:00.000-06:002015-03-04T01:29:21.147-06:00The FoodWe have had to adjust to some majors changes between the food that we were used to eating in Houston to the food that we are eating here in Melbourne. It isn't that the food is bad, it's just different.<br />
And as many of you who have children know...<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Different = Inedible</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I can tell that they are thinking this. They then look up at me like, "<i>Obviously.</i>"</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Regardless of those <i>obvious </i>adjustments that Samantha and Easton are making, it has been an adjustment for Blake and I too. The main difference isn't that the food is <i>foreign</i>, <i>strange</i>. The difference is that it is all <i>healthier</i>. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Cheese is actual cheese...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Like from a cow... </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Without some weird processing to make it orange... </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Boxed cereal offers healthy benefits, not just a crazy sugar-high and dilated pupils. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Actually... I haven't seen any other sugary options than <i>Frosted Flakes</i> and <i>Fruit Loops</i>.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinOMqUGcUUFfOLjyzQZrr_rfciWc9gzu59puoEJGnIhnHs34xF4mpSyBydxrtJ7t9tyDxTKm3kfMK0KI8bxGMrRe9DLVX7HPDDDpXrhyphenhyphenxIHl91VfS6h_wtp2OjoVNZkQlBY8f-50Oa5x8/s1600/FullSizeRender+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinOMqUGcUUFfOLjyzQZrr_rfciWc9gzu59puoEJGnIhnHs34xF4mpSyBydxrtJ7t9tyDxTKm3kfMK0KI8bxGMrRe9DLVX7HPDDDpXrhyphenhyphenxIHl91VfS6h_wtp2OjoVNZkQlBY8f-50Oa5x8/s1600/FullSizeRender+3.jpg" height="630" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Don't like cereal? How about a warm croissant with homemade butter and raspberry jam?</i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
So far I haven't seen any deluxe-sized boxes of Oreos or flavored Goldfish. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
No party-sized bags of Doritos or Cheetos. Actually, I haven't seen Cheetos at all.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Mmmm... Cheetos sound good.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Fried chicken nuggets aren't offered on children's menus<i>. </i>Salmon filets are, though. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Milkshakes can't be found on many dessert menus, but green smoothies are on every corner. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
No Chick-Fil-A, but plenty of juice bars and quaint coffee shops. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Unhealthy options are just harder to find.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
Additionally, things that aren't necessarily "good for you" are much higher quality. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
There are sweet shops everywhere with beautiful creations... <br />
Rich dark and milk chocolates, brightly colored macarons, silky gelato. All carefully created from fresh, fine ingredients, and gorgeously displayed to catch your eye. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Three words - Hot. Cross. Buns.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Come on, y'all. You just don't know.</i> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRi6KewRo7_mz7cAF2vxy1SS9S2CnQLEIWVDxXPNhZCK8buQsz_J3e3sKFTPUVnRD_u2Y0pPjf6ia5D2WoYB5ApaOmpWACiMZmmZN9hmj7WzxdGP9J19FQfopc4WaEXlgrwabQQDEL6o/s1600/IMG_0173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRi6KewRo7_mz7cAF2vxy1SS9S2CnQLEIWVDxXPNhZCK8buQsz_J3e3sKFTPUVnRD_u2Y0pPjf6ia5D2WoYB5ApaOmpWACiMZmmZN9hmj7WzxdGP9J19FQfopc4WaEXlgrwabQQDEL6o/s1600/IMG_0173.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Feel like dessert? Freshly baked mixed berry pie with vanilla ice cream.</i><br />
<i>Notice the serving size... </i> </div>
<br />
Granted, we are living in the middle of the city, and things where we are might not be exactly the same as in the 'burbs. Out there beyond the noise and throngs of people, there might be Taco Bells and Starbucks galore, but here in the CBD (Central Business District) there are only small cafes, fine locally-owned restaurants, and non-crap groceries for purchase.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Last night I had to practically force broccoli, carrots, and teriyaki beef down the kids' throats. I had bought all of the ingredients from the Queen Victoria Market, selecting each from a colorful display that is presented by local growers, butchers and fishermen five days a week, rain or shine.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>You would have thought that I was killing them.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjem8Hq5sjHiVzrwJSgok7mCbRT03HM3LCgL2OfQBW4f9RHYtHVWHSOMKTdjP_o0DBVlQ8cpKy2bunFLFEeKFFYF5gGOJAQxqG2HP7YGEMKGs18kykY2rRdpuEn2J8PXmQZDjMsO_oQfM8/s1600/FullSizeRender+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjem8Hq5sjHiVzrwJSgok7mCbRT03HM3LCgL2OfQBW4f9RHYtHVWHSOMKTdjP_o0DBVlQ8cpKy2bunFLFEeKFFYF5gGOJAQxqG2HP7YGEMKGs18kykY2rRdpuEn2J8PXmQZDjMsO_oQfM8/s1600/FullSizeRender+2.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Who knew there were so many different kinds of leafy greens?</i> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This is just different from how we would to do it in Texas. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'd go to the grocery while the kids were in school, and I'd buy their favorite things to make their favorite dinners, which they ate (mostly) after promises of dessert. (Oreos...)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here I'm buying different things and making different meals based on what is available and in season. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
They aren't used to that and neither am I. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
They are used to eating the same ten meals over and over with pizza and Chick-Fil-A thrown in on the nights I don't feel like cooking. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I don't feel like cooking tonight, and you know what we're ordering?</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Sushi.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>The pizza here is not the same. It's healthy.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Blah.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The downside of the quality of the food is that groceries and meals out are more expensive<i>.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Like a lot more expensive.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We choose to go to the Market because it's the cheapest option. We'd break the bank if we didn't. After the Market, we have to make another trip to the grocery to buy the things that aren't fresh, like cereal and canned goods. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My bi-weekly grocery trips have turned into an every Saturday, all morning event just to get our groceries in for the week. And we only buy what we need. Nothing extra because then we'd have to haul it back on the tram, not just throw it into the trunk of my Jeep. (Oh, and there aren't any carts in the grocery stores, either.)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Yes. It's more work and more money to feed our family, but it's easier to provide healthy, fresh meals. That's great, but at the same time...</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
... I can't wait to get back to the States. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I'm totally going to order a large cheese, pepperoni, and jalapeno pizza for myself.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I'm going to eat my weight in queso.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I'm going to drink an unlimited supply of root beer.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Margaritas, anyone? </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I guess this means that all the good I've been doing for my body and health will fly out the window.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Oh, well. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>We're here for a few more years.</i></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-63065808501462751742015-02-26T22:36:00.002-06:002015-02-26T22:56:43.606-06:00Songs of Innocence, Songs of ExperienceThis is my version of William Blake's <i>Songs of Innocence, Songs of Experience</i>.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Mine aren't quite as cryptic as Mr. Blake's. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
You're welcome, world. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Viewing an Apartment in a Foreign Country </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>(without your children present)</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Songs of Innocence</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>So beautiful is the view</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There is nothing else that I want to do,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Than to sit here in this chair</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And into the distance I shall stare.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The refrigerator is simply stunning,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and the hand-scraped floors... I'm certainly loving.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The wine fridge is such a delight.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I'm going to fill it with only the best reds and whites.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The bathrooms. So pristine and full of light!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I can't wait to use it morning and night.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The waterfall showerheads are divine.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I'll be spoiled by them in no time.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The elevators enter into the hall.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The bank is wide, the ceiling, tall.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>So gleaming clean with marble and glass.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The ride to our apartment is first class.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Leasing an Apartment in a Foreign Country</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>(with your children present)</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Songs of Experience </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Close the door! Don't touch that glass!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I just cleaned that window and want it to last!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> I can't sit here and enjoy this view.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>(Sitting isn't a child-friendly thing to do.)</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<i>The refrigerator doesn't make ice.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> Or filter water. That would've been nice.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The wine cabinet has nothing to show...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Other than apple juice and some chilled jello.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The bathrooms aren't made for kids.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>No baths, just showers for dirt to be rid.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> The twins flatly refuse to shower without me.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This isn't as relaxing as I had hoped it would be.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The elevator worry is a constant.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>What if someone enters it without my knowledge?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A three-year-old wandering alone in the streets...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>These are the thoughts of my worst dreams.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
*Note from the author (err... me):</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Hi there! </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In all seriousness, we love our apartment. It is crazy beautiful and the view... Seriously. The view. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This post isn't to say that we don't love our apartment. It is just to poke a little bit of fun at all of the aspects that we ignored when we viewed the apartment in relation to us moving in with kids. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-44942259455745566392015-02-22T00:51:00.004-06:002015-02-22T02:52:40.962-06:00Dear Kim from Four Months Ago......I've got some advice for you.<br />
And even though you don't normally like taking advice, you really should listen to me.<br />
<br />
<b>First and foremost, it is all going to be okay. </b><br />
<br />
Erica and Jonathan are perfectly capable of being pregnant with their 2nd child, and I'm certain that they are able to figure out the whole <i>going to the hospital to have a baby again</i> without you. The baby is not going to remember that you weren't there. Erica has her amazing family and Kelsey (also amazing) who all live within a few miles. Plus, you are going to overstay your welcome when you come back to visit. <br />
<br />
Kelsey and Mikey can plan a wedding without you because they have Lisa and JP and there are professionals out there that take the reigns once they have been chosen and paid. Kelsey would have gotten really tired of you hovering really quickly. <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Don't forget to ask Kelsey- What did Mikey say about bow ties? Are we a firm "no" still?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i> </div>
The house looks fine, and actually, the third couple who walks through it on the third day it is on the market is going to buy it.<br />
They are going to be a perfect fit for the neighborhood with her adorable, barely-showing pregnancy and two-year-old little boy. The house will close less than a month after you have left, and you won't have to worry about taking care of it from afar. <br />
<br />
Whiskey and the cat are in good hands. Wait, better than good. They will be taken care of better than you would take care of them if you weren't moving to the other side of the world. After what happens with Maysee, you'll see, the best decision that you can make is to let them be loved by someone other than you for the short period of time that you are over in Australia. It just wouldn't be fair to make them take that trip. You'll hear from many experienced people... It would break their spirit to be caged for that long after the lifestyle that they've grown accustomed to.<br />
<br />
In spite of what you might think, you are not in control. You have no control over any of the things that I just mentioned. They are obviously very important parts of our life, but you have to trust that without you, the world is not going to stop spinning. <br />
<br />
<b>Second, for the love of God, woman, pack your pillow in a suitcase.</b> <br />
How did the yoga mat make it but not your pillow?! The temporary pillows that will be provided to you are horrible. Have you ever woken up with both of your arms asleep? I know you haven't, but guess what, you will... Almost every night. Your back will hurt worse than when you were at the end of your pregnancy with the twins, but you are, of course, going to be stubborn and cheap and refuse to purchase new pillows because you know your pillow will be here at the beginning of April.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>You're stupid for doing that, but, hey, what can I say? You have your reasons. </i></div>
<br />
<b>Third, don't touch anything that looks like it might be drugs.</b><br />
Do you know if pot is legal or not in Australia? No? Well, me neither.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Update: Totally just Googled it. Yea. It's illegal.</i> </div>
Do you know what would happen if you got caught with a dime bag while you are holding a temporary visa? No. Me neither, but you'd probably get kicked out of the country if pot is illegal.<br />
Long story, short... Don't touch that bag that looks suspiciously like a bag of pot in the train station because you aren't sure what it is and it is in the seat you want to sit in.<br />
Come on, Kim. You aren't stupid. <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>You know, except when it comes to buying new pillows.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Fourth, eat a lot of Mexican food. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i>You aren't thinking about it right now, but you have been spoiled. The margaritas and the food that you have been eating for the last seven years... You have been taking advantage of having that so accessible! Stop what you are doing right now, no matter what time of day or night, and go to the nearest Mexican restaurant, expensive or cheap, and order a bowl of queso and a margarita, frozen with salt. Then repeat, repeat, and repeat. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Actually, come to think of it. Eat a lot of everything. Everything here is crazy expensive and portion controlled to the max. You are going to lose weight immediately due to this (and walking everywhere), so go nuts while you can. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>And when I say "walking everywhere", I mean EVERYWHERE!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>You aren't getting a car, dude, so enjoy that too.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
You're worrying about the big stuff and sweating the small stuff, but looking back now, you should have just eaten a lot of queso, driven around aimlessly because you could, and stood in the middle of HEB to marvel at the massive-ness of a grocery store. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I have a feeling that when you/I get back to the states we are immediately going to get a big car, a membership to Costco, and stock up on peanut butter and paper towels... Why? Because we can!</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>I would say "I can't wait!", but I can. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>We've got a few adventures between now and then.</i><i> </i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-15894601760121314252015-02-19T15:38:00.002-06:002015-02-19T15:52:17.343-06:00A Few Adventures...<u>The Aquarium</u><br />
<br />
We had a great time visiting the aquarium.<br />
The kids were free (since they were 3-years-old), but they won't get away with that for long.<br />
Overall, the trip was pretty expensive (especially considering that the kids were free and that I bought discounted tickets online vs at the door), but it was fun. The kids really enjoyed it!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwD1ljYzJITOT6hG7Pxl2HZ4zI2gHVDmKAIF43UIuTFzYNX-gwhtDeq4lcmUUJcJNKURTMOc7KZ8W2bc9E3mIb6cxApi_OYpOqA7imX8LUSs8NWJg2FaN5pIVDNqDNGo6iUZAvAPzW86s/s1600/IMG_0089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwD1ljYzJITOT6hG7Pxl2HZ4zI2gHVDmKAIF43UIuTFzYNX-gwhtDeq4lcmUUJcJNKURTMOc7KZ8W2bc9E3mIb6cxApi_OYpOqA7imX8LUSs8NWJg2FaN5pIVDNqDNGo6iUZAvAPzW86s/s1600/IMG_0089.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrA4Sc1M2c3xPnmGf5Oxqp-fscw8WLkZ9qip92oVN0feLhwEeeadCjqlLnS20aepVhsRlkqNZraTW5LIiVPTXlECn87pL4Bu4kz-Tm5sSmZu0cSe2QefovZCJaSlEPMbvn_TAHYD_KuH8/s1600/IMG_0095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrA4Sc1M2c3xPnmGf5Oxqp-fscw8WLkZ9qip92oVN0feLhwEeeadCjqlLnS20aepVhsRlkqNZraTW5LIiVPTXlECn87pL4Bu4kz-Tm5sSmZu0cSe2QefovZCJaSlEPMbvn_TAHYD_KuH8/s1600/IMG_0095.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9SJpQZbm_2CHcWJEpDwRd-p1G83s2_WhsX6x9QyqztXRPpofcCkvxPluDpsr6t8obeH0-2NlWpY3KVR3ycyfw8bz_fh5lglL97c0lk1YWJ6ErTpvLTQMo2zCQGP7Bqr1-bZ9VmN8DC8/s1600/IMG_0108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9SJpQZbm_2CHcWJEpDwRd-p1G83s2_WhsX6x9QyqztXRPpofcCkvxPluDpsr6t8obeH0-2NlWpY3KVR3ycyfw8bz_fh5lglL97c0lk1YWJ6ErTpvLTQMo2zCQGP7Bqr1-bZ9VmN8DC8/s1600/IMG_0108.jpg" height="640" width="480" /> </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxWxWLuYargGICaCoPTYCbwkKQjl3DDhOKc-V98vw5vclSde-tOqMN4oH2O_PklMXZ8bvkgSxh_iEmL7Tz9dg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Press Play!)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The aquarium had an incredible project where the kids would color in a picture of a shark and it would project the shark onto the screen where it could "swim in the ocean". It was such a cool concept, and the kids loved finding and chasing their sharks. <br />
<br />
<u>The Gruffalo</u><br />
<br />
On Tuesday evening, Blake left work a little early to come with us to a little production at Melbourne Town Hall.<br />
We got to watch one of our favorite authors read and act out a few stories, including <u>The Gruffalo</u> and <u>Room on a Broom</u>, as well as sing a few fun songs and hear a few silly poems.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0rMlPt18i7M5AP7jh1GARYD5TahvUElm5Gc8KpOEXjKrj26L0n_jZxjed_woxuVlZZr8Gcc0B9ZfoIaErSRcEXa8Sr6Qpki5Ovj4pSWOsI2Jz32WSPirTpf2vPjl1ph3mfty5WrNDKSM/s1600/IMG_0154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0rMlPt18i7M5AP7jh1GARYD5TahvUElm5Gc8KpOEXjKrj26L0n_jZxjed_woxuVlZZr8Gcc0B9ZfoIaErSRcEXa8Sr6Qpki5Ovj4pSWOsI2Jz32WSPirTpf2vPjl1ph3mfty5WrNDKSM/s1600/IMG_0154.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
It was adorable and sweetly silly and a blast for both us and the kids! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbbe0Fm772OrIPFgxVgqsvBMa5uBDQl6tc3mxcKT-u_pgkFcA0Mqf2ro5He7BEz8ufQbFd6dCFV32TErxlIc9iR7g50V_av_2s7CENEo7iyxZDIKR8hTLdh61oJ44aGyHHBA1DSO9PlFI/s1600/IMG_0155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbbe0Fm772OrIPFgxVgqsvBMa5uBDQl6tc3mxcKT-u_pgkFcA0Mqf2ro5He7BEz8ufQbFd6dCFV32TErxlIc9iR7g50V_av_2s7CENEo7iyxZDIKR8hTLdh61oJ44aGyHHBA1DSO9PlFI/s1600/IMG_0155.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
We even got her autograph on Easton's book!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<u>The Statue by the River</u></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So there is this statue that is down by the river. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Totally thinking of Chris Farley...</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Back to the story.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We can see it from our apartment, and we had been trying to decide if it was a dog or a dinosaur or a lizard. We just couldn't decide. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ZpfIXemk4U8STysRwCFw8hKzgX11mReE7vGxshfZDkMnS7oel3_CRl56b47y7JmU9aha9K0gaHfICxe_KYwTtPzGPhRm2QCl5c_75OKpC5nQ-L8sITfEr96LfWVRQlXPFgREhlOkcO0/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ZpfIXemk4U8STysRwCFw8hKzgX11mReE7vGxshfZDkMnS7oel3_CRl56b47y7JmU9aha9K0gaHfICxe_KYwTtPzGPhRm2QCl5c_75OKpC5nQ-L8sITfEr96LfWVRQlXPFgREhlOkcO0/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" height="610" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Once Samantha and Easton had a chance to inspect it up close, Samantha had the obvious answer.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Samantha, "Daddy! It's a cat!"</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Blake, "Why do you think it's a cat, Samantha?"</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Samantha, "Because..." <i>Looking at Blake with exasperation</i>.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
"It only has three legs."</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I think someone misses her kitty more than I do.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
More adventures soon... </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-18462868982708330852015-02-15T00:34:00.000-06:002015-02-15T02:54:42.742-06:00My Goals... For the Moment & Week OneBefore moving here, I knew that I'd have to give myself certain goals to accomplish each day.<br />
<br />
I needed these for several reasons:<br />
<ol>
<li>I could build a daily routine around them.</li>
<li>I could hold myself accountable. </li>
<li>It gave each day a purpose.</li>
<li>It made me feel somewhat more organized. </li>
</ol>
My goals were simple... Every weekday, the kids and I would get out to do at least one thing. Whether it was before naps or after, I was going to get out with them. Every weekend, we would get out and explore something. You know, do something slightly more substantial, something that required another set of hands with the two three-years-old in tow.<br />
<br />
I, of course, have already had one day where I didn't follow through with this, and I've got to say, it was a bit much to be cooped up inside all day with Samantha and Easton in the apartment, especially since they don't have their toys and the television isn't set up yet. <br />
<br />
Here is how each day looked, now that you know my goal for each day:<br />
<u><br /></u>
<u>Saturday, February 7th</u><br />
Blake wasn't working, so today we set about picking up some groceries for our apartment. This is quite a feat because we hadn't yet figured out how to take advantage of the tram system to get us there and back... so we all walked to the closest Cole's.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Cole's is the better priced option when it comes to heavier grocery trips.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
We passed Hosier Lane, which is famous for it's ever-changing graffiti. It is breathtaking, and boasts newer and more exciting sights each time you pass down the lane.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWoa5mX5f5JYnp0dJ2Yi3YGd55wbQ7kJMGL0wG1P8FxNRIc56-7lMjmL_c1nLfSJFf8VJ8RZssN5f_FbrxCCFE7QLzH9ROFtwMjG_s0SpUMT4OKKms1fF4kF3ZM7B2oLYV0HkjcWrBT2k/s1600/10421525_10102903097216797_4052737966545690410_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWoa5mX5f5JYnp0dJ2Yi3YGd55wbQ7kJMGL0wG1P8FxNRIc56-7lMjmL_c1nLfSJFf8VJ8RZssN5f_FbrxCCFE7QLzH9ROFtwMjG_s0SpUMT4OKKms1fF4kF3ZM7B2oLYV0HkjcWrBT2k/s1600/10421525_10102903097216797_4052737966545690410_n.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
Samantha and Easton, of course, loved seeing Mike and Sully from Monsters, Inc. up on the walls.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
We keep promising to go back to take a picture with Sully. They were disappointed that I left him out. </div>
<br />
After dropping off the groceries, we had lunch at the apartment before heading back to the hotel. <br />
That afternoon, we walked to Bourke Street to set up internet, television, and home phone services for our apartment. I also got a new cell phone that I can use here, and we went to Target to pick up a few home supplies.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Now, when I talk about Target... Think about Target before Super Target. No groceries or things like that. Only clothing, home appliances, etc. </div>
<br />
If you want to have a good time, try walking down four city blocks holding a mop, an ironing board, and a few *heavy* bags of home cleaning supplies with twin three-year-old kids on a 90*F day. Good times, y'all. <br />
<br />
<u>Sunday, February 8th</u><br />
In the morning, we headed by train to the zoo. We finally saw the kangaroo (as well as scores of other animals) that we had been promising Easton and Samantha throughout the transition of moving us to Australia.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlyDfRZAZh7bQ7PPkCqCKmaRjxHQdJKmAPM64NcsowLL68sJXw1H5-SqeGQXOSa13PzsJYYsbx61JeE3i6ijIA10drE1sKX3wLPzH7B4YKqXsFpGQVF6wDfApqmxfn4QZzqRgvn2aoCA/s1600/10968371_10102904735468727_8964142255803589748_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlyDfRZAZh7bQ7PPkCqCKmaRjxHQdJKmAPM64NcsowLL68sJXw1H5-SqeGQXOSa13PzsJYYsbx61JeE3i6ijIA10drE1sKX3wLPzH7B4YKqXsFpGQVF6wDfApqmxfn4QZzqRgvn2aoCA/s1600/10968371_10102904735468727_8964142255803589748_n.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
Easton wasn't actually convinced that we were in Australia until he saw the kangaroos. At that point, he was satisfied.<br />
<br />
We also saw a koala (adorable!) and hung out a bit with a wombat who really liked Samantha's company.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4NOewRg4-5MLzzdYOl8MB1JMbRUPCmR4cloCT7lR203k5nQuUbeAkePgK6mA7SuFrri_NRmIdFu-JAQGmLAYZSnysZjqdgAVwuIdKNDHzgBhPUc-1K7xhsiNVua8ueU4Y4aeu0yJSw0E/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4NOewRg4-5MLzzdYOl8MB1JMbRUPCmR4cloCT7lR203k5nQuUbeAkePgK6mA7SuFrri_NRmIdFu-JAQGmLAYZSnysZjqdgAVwuIdKNDHzgBhPUc-1K7xhsiNVua8ueU4Y4aeu0yJSw0E/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" height="626" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwjpzEl-ccWEMl6jAd8dhg2IkpKiV50YtwZ7aTDhgt39Y7sQtceGT8m-fLDzenyj4sDpG4aXIUxY-0mDEuq8w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Press Play!)</div>
<br />
The trip was overall a large success until Samantha began complaining of a tummy ache. She and I headed back to the hotel on our own while the guys finished up their trip with a ride on an ancient carousel, literally 140 years old, and a visit to the see the seals and penguins.<br />
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">After nap time, we took advantage of the indoor swimming pool in the hotel, Samantha's tummy feeling better after napping. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0"><u>Monday, February 9th</u></span></span></span><br />
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">Today was Blake's first day of work, and we toasted the day with hot chocolate and fresh blueberry muffins. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">After he headed off, the kids and I got dressed and walked down the street to our apartment where we unpacked our massive suitcases into the closets and bathroom cabinets. (Remember, aside from the odd yoga mat, our suitcases held mostly clothes and toiletries.) </span></span></span><br />
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">Blake came by the apartment for lunch, and we then made a beeline back to the hotel for naps. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">When Blake came back to the hotel after work, we went once again to the swimming pool and then the kids took a long, final bath in the tub. (Our apartment doesn't have any bath tubs... Just showers. Good times ahead, good times.)</span></span></span><br />
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0"><u>Tuesday, February 10th</u></span></span></span><br />
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">The kids and I checked out of the hotel after Blake headed to work, and we walked, with all of our overnight bags, to the apartment. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".51.$mid=11423950224396=2a4b1615c51d16a4a28.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0"><br /></span></span></span>
The temporary furniture arrived shortly before lunch, and we watched as a few men brought the precious essentials that a family of four needs to live comfortably... A couch, a television, dishes, silverware, beds, linens, a trash can... You get the point.<br />
<br />
After naps we went back to Target.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
I had lived long enough without a coffee pot.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
We stopped just long enough before Target for a quick strawberry smoothie and strawberry 'n cream macaroon. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkeOVoiWYbNDOOk0bg4eaoad__v5Nx9Ws2-bVIl__gBlbvDulyqMGpVNXBbbUyuitTmD_foD1PaV0cel_vb64w4u1-0VtK5mZedTbRB_yxrWWmgvDGXYroLsr5KpDMpV6zxKLwW4a89po/s1600/10985595_10102910030397647_4116556892082001035_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkeOVoiWYbNDOOk0bg4eaoad__v5Nx9Ws2-bVIl__gBlbvDulyqMGpVNXBbbUyuitTmD_foD1PaV0cel_vb64w4u1-0VtK5mZedTbRB_yxrWWmgvDGXYroLsr5KpDMpV6zxKLwW4a89po/s1600/10985595_10102910030397647_4116556892082001035_n.jpg" height="450" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Needless to say, the macaroons were a hit. They ate them like they had never had anything so delicious. Easton, at one point, dropped a bit on the floor and might have eaten it while my back was turned. Yummy. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
We bought (aside from the Nescafe machine and necessary pods to make frothy hot chocolate, cappuccinos, and mochas) a dry, dusting mop, a basket for towels in the bathroom, and a hairdryer. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Blake arrived just in time to help us carry everything home. Saved! </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<u>Wednesday, February 11th</u></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Today was the day that I broke my rule. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We didn't go out, and we stayed in our pajamas all day. Relaxing.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In some ways, I felt that we deserved the break, but in other ways we should have escaped the apartment. Oh, well. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<u>Thursday, February 12th</u></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It was a calm Thursday. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We hung out in the morning, and then headed out to order a "surprise" for Daddy/Blake for Valentine's Day. After that, we wandered into an adorable little bookshop and picked up a couple of new stories and an old favorite. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We met Blake for a leisurely lunch at what has quickly become our go-to spot for coffee and muffins. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
The lady who always waits on us is from Seattle, and she is always sneaking the kids a little treat whenever we are heading out the door. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Today was a chocolate chip cookie the size of my face.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The evening ended with impromptu fireworks right before bedtime. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We had the best seats.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLaFMIYPDGv_bQ71Hc8dskiEJ2KtNeB6TvOvDHd0F_R08JX2ApDmUiQdjTeUcnknpJDFayWlkXxNQmAIT5HHMeT-PjM6xwbuKmrImWysRiuOKREkrD12X5RcIJBsi9s6zy6Lzm6JD7iDw/s1600/10959739_10102915843188767_2178738902577498835_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLaFMIYPDGv_bQ71Hc8dskiEJ2KtNeB6TvOvDHd0F_R08JX2ApDmUiQdjTeUcnknpJDFayWlkXxNQmAIT5HHMeT-PjM6xwbuKmrImWysRiuOKREkrD12X5RcIJBsi9s6zy6Lzm6JD7iDw/s1600/10959739_10102915843188767_2178738902577498835_n.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<u>Friday, February 13th</u><br />
Our plans for an Italian dinner in Melbourne's version of "Little Italy" were spoiled when the internet guy, who had come to hook up our apartment (finally!), told me that storms would overtake the city by the afternoon.<br />
Sure enough, Blake stepped into the apartment after work, pizzas in tow, with water droplets spotting his shirt. He barely missed the downpour, the lightning and thunder that started shortly after and remained throughout the night.<br />
<br />
<u>Saturday, February 14th</u><br />
Valentine's Day began on a sweet note when we sent Blake into the still-rainy weather to pick up doughnuts for breakfast and to stop by Little Cupcakes, a sweet, local cupcake shop, to pick up his "surprise". <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Aren't I sweet to make him pick up his own gift?</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiISIfkQIlHm5DBqJpfhZseF5Y2GbjZUr0eFBND9wiKbJb6pi_NME6DvzwfD0_ask9yAoXYYLZkoyz_lOHoAk1TLxk0-DQLpE5uJo6GFBAf92qu5Wi_722cYoiWfo9cRRwrixyXcnpr1VY/s1600/10388634_10102919064418397_2505723628378502898_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiISIfkQIlHm5DBqJpfhZseF5Y2GbjZUr0eFBND9wiKbJb6pi_NME6DvzwfD0_ask9yAoXYYLZkoyz_lOHoAk1TLxk0-DQLpE5uJo6GFBAf92qu5Wi_722cYoiWfo9cRRwrixyXcnpr1VY/s1600/10388634_10102919064418397_2505723628378502898_n.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a><br />
They were seriously the cutest cupcakes I have ever seen! (And delicious!) </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
My bad, that they were $11 a pop. Didn't realize that until after I placed the order.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Oops.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After naps, we stopped by a local sweet shop where I had a light hot chocolate, Blake had a macchiato, and the kids had their first babycino, which is basically frothed milk with a bit of chocolate on top. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzx404VaT4t6W6mn9gp-9VClTA92JnEFI6DR0TpqioGywj06PcdCVTdWBOoOnZpDPV8Eu3SrMlSO0UTotSvffpxPJkulT6PeaJoVgyCdq1pfz1-5xMW-UbOik9UpptyYMs27Vumn-3-cA/s1600/10991171_10102919599985117_1121160860701279932_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzx404VaT4t6W6mn9gp-9VClTA92JnEFI6DR0TpqioGywj06PcdCVTdWBOoOnZpDPV8Eu3SrMlSO0UTotSvffpxPJkulT6PeaJoVgyCdq1pfz1-5xMW-UbOik9UpptyYMs27Vumn-3-cA/s1600/10991171_10102919599985117_1121160860701279932_n.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Their babycino's came with a chocolate teddy bear.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I have a feeling that we'll be back here again soon.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Much better for our wallets than the teddy bear cupcakes...</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The day ended with yet another trip to Target. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This time I needed a slow cooker, shampoo and conditioner, and nail polish remover. I also picked up a 24-pack of individual apple juices for $12, which is an incredible price! (Blake wouldn't go with my request to buy all of the remaining apple juices and carry them all back to the apartment...Boo. Such a good deal.) </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
I could have gotten all of that from IGA (aside from the slow cooker), which is the grocery store right downstairs, but what can I say?<br />
I miss Target.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<br />
Our first week was eventful, and I'm hoping that with careful planning, I can make sure that the kids and I not only have something to do each day, but that we can do it without breaking the bank.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
I see more apple juices from Target in our future. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-67215078065553195162015-02-13T16:44:00.002-06:002015-02-13T16:57:00.914-06:00Our First Full DayFriday, February 6th, 2015<br />
<br />
After leaving the airport, the driver took us to the extended living hotel where we had made arrangements through Blake's company a couple of weeks beforehand.<br />
It was about 6:00AM when we got there, and a not-so-happy-to-be-working man checked us in.<br />
As we entered our room, we were hit with a wave of both body odor and curry.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Who had been in this place before us?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I tried to keep calm as I evaluated the room...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
There were smudge prints from someone's face being pressed up against all the windows. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
There were dark stains on the carpet throughout the rooms.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I couldn't open the cabinets in the kitchen without foul smells hitting me in the face. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
There were hairs scattered throughout the bathrooms, but...</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
It was the smell. I couldn't get past the smell. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We left the room after we had dropped off our luggage, and we headed to find a place for breakfast. We ended up having a nice breakfast on Lygon Street at Trotters.<br />
It was lovely and leisurely, and I momentarily forgot about the disgusting hotel room that was waiting for us a few blocks away. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hIZyQfx4SxekhyphenhyphenNZEv6SpUAsrnViREg5ColauqAeqg6YMNEsZNXNjtEfflUQyQ4EL61R6TvvQJ7WW6MaCgJeM8U1nzPLDn3pUMXG77Izs2iKyFY3QOrUzo0rWyaBDwv-deaPVPrYOYg/s1600/IMG_0051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hIZyQfx4SxekhyphenhyphenNZEv6SpUAsrnViREg5ColauqAeqg6YMNEsZNXNjtEfflUQyQ4EL61R6TvvQJ7WW6MaCgJeM8U1nzPLDn3pUMXG77Izs2iKyFY3QOrUzo0rWyaBDwv-deaPVPrYOYg/s1600/IMG_0051.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6c2cWTGPFk0GnkRAKrH1_rKSO2VZbMJU0h6sM5yk19awABUa_pGRHzoWhlAlc-J-OAVM0ZZRcIEONfsxmMZvvfYU9Q6CHotmHxuXqHSyC7_tyNA_eTG4BvVpgHAxUGrBXhtbbz2683Jo/s1600/IMG_0050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6c2cWTGPFk0GnkRAKrH1_rKSO2VZbMJU0h6sM5yk19awABUa_pGRHzoWhlAlc-J-OAVM0ZZRcIEONfsxmMZvvfYU9Q6CHotmHxuXqHSyC7_tyNA_eTG4BvVpgHAxUGrBXhtbbz2683Jo/s1600/IMG_0050.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
We shared fried eggs, toast, a warm croissant with jam, bacon (more like American ham than American bacon), and lemon french toast topped with mascarpone and berries.<br />
<br />
After eating, we headed to a nearby park, playing and trying to deceive our bodies and brains into thinking it was only morning, not mid-afternoon (what would normally be nap time). It was a beautiful day, and we enjoyed watching everyone bustle around, busy on a Friday morning. <br />
<br />
We ran a few errands, including picking up the keys to our apartment and going by the bank, stopped by a local fire station for a kid-friendly demonstration on taking a roof off a wrecked car, and picked up a few groceries to make lunch in our hotel room. <br />
After lunch, Samantha and Easton took a nap while Blake made a few phone calls, switching us to a much nicer, much cleaner room in a hotel closer to Blake's office and our new apartment. <br />
A few hours later, we had moved all of our things into our apartment and our overnight things into our much nicer, much cleaner room.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
This room didn't have a separate kitchen and dining area, but for those of you who know me well... I could care less. I felt as though my family could actually walk around without our shoes on. We didn't have to rub Germ-Ex all over our hands constantly out of fear of some unknown disease. And best of all, the room didn't smell of body odor and curry, it smelled pleasant and clean. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Whew. I could finally sleep. </div>
It was a productive, busy first day, but we made it!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoyYQxBdbpL4fL7f-rE7EqkqFmFCHfu38GvwuKr1Xox88gMR_eN14Hi7WhpD6xX_E-exFmjPJjY0cr2KikEikPm7SU3cJiBiD-tXn6_5TXImYVmj1aCJQJ1Dis0wdrepnM7Xy9PifeS2E/s1600/IMG_0002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoyYQxBdbpL4fL7f-rE7EqkqFmFCHfu38GvwuKr1Xox88gMR_eN14Hi7WhpD6xX_E-exFmjPJjY0cr2KikEikPm7SU3cJiBiD-tXn6_5TXImYVmj1aCJQJ1Dis0wdrepnM7Xy9PifeS2E/s1600/IMG_0002.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-27677924588409406752015-02-11T23:30:00.001-06:002015-02-22T01:51:24.637-06:00How We Knew Let me share with you all a little bit about how this whole event unfolded for us.<br />
Let me start back a bit, as in 2013 back...<br />
<br />
I was bored.<br />
<br />
Samantha and Easton had started preschool, and I was fishing around for a job at the school that I had taught at before the twins came along. More specifically, I was wanting a 1st or 2nd grade teaching position.<br />
<br />
I approached the preschool director about my hopes for a position, and I resubmitted my resume, hoping, not-so-secretly, that I would be placed at the top of the pile for potential candidates. My thoughts were something along the lines of teaching five days a week during the 2013-2014 school year, and the kids would go to preschool five days. I figured it would work out just fine. Their first year in preschool, they were going three days a week, and they were school-going champs as far as I was concerned.<br />
<br />
At the start of the new year, half-way through the kids first year at preschool, I began a Bible Study at the school that met on Monday mornings. That first semester that I attended, we were doing a study of Exodus. It was interesting, and I enjoyed going and starting my week off in a way that I felt was fresh and uplifting.<br />
<br />
About half way through the year, our group leader started suggesting a new Bible Study for the next school year. She explained that it would take the entire school year, and it was about learning how to hear God speak.<br />
<br />
I remember thinking, "Wow. That must be like having a super power or something. To hear God speak. That would be so cool."<br />
A few moments later I realized that no one would be offering me a job for the next school year. I was going to be in this Bible Study. I was sure of it.<br />
(I was also sure that Blake was going to do this Bible Study with me, whether he wanted to or not, regardless of the fact that he couldn't attend any of the group meetings on Monday mornings. It just seemed too cool not to include him.)<br />
<br />
The summer came and went, and I wasn't offered a position. Actually, no one was. The school cut several jobs instead.<br />
<br />
When the school year approached, the head of the school caught me playing with Samantha and Easton on the playground. She asked if I was interested in teaching still, and when I told her that I was, she explained that there was probably going to be a 1st grade position open for the 2015-2016 school year.<br />
<br />
"God's plan must have always been for me to do this Bible Study before returning to teaching," I worked over with Blake later. "Amazing, right?" <br />
<br />
Over the next few months, Blake and I learned about how to not only how to listen to God's voice and know when it is His voice or my own thoughts, but what to do when I hear Him speaking to me.<br />
As my understanding grew, so did my excitement in what I was learning. <br />
<br />
In early November, I specifically remember having a conversation one morning with my sister-in-law, Erica. I told her that I had this feeling that something was coming.<br />
"It could be next week, next month, or next year. Something is coming, and God is preparing us for it." She nodded, noted her goosebumps, and crossed her fingers that the "something" was us moving back of Oklahoma.<br />
<br />
A few weeks later, Blake and I sat next to each other at a quiet restaurant discussing the same line of thought that Erica and I had recently chatted about.<br />
"Can't you feel it? Something is coming. I think maybe God was waiting... Waiting for just the right amount of time after my mom left. He knew that I couldn't do anything until I had grieved. Until I could remember her without losing myself to grief." Blake had nodded in agreement. He could sense something was happening, though we had no idea what or when anything would happen.<br />
<br />
The week before Thanksgiving, "it" happened.<br />
<br />
Blake came home from work on the evening of the Thanksgiving Feast that was being held at the kids' school. He pulled into the driveway with only enough time for the kids and I to load in. As he backed out, he turned to me, "They have asked me if I would like to interview for a position in Melbourne, Australia. I have to let them know by tomorrow."<br />
<br />
As we drove, we reveled in knowing that this was what was coming, though much sooner than we had ever anticipated, this was the "something" that we had being feeling.<br />
<br />
We couldn't turn the interview down.<br />
How could we, knowing what we did?<br />
<br />
Blake, of course, nailed the interview, and called me from Melbourne on the morning of my 30th birthday to tell me that we were moving to Australia.We were moving to Australia in barely two months. Ready, set, go!<br />
<br />
From there, everything has become a blur of activity, paperwork, and blind faith.<br />
<br />
But you know what... It is all out of our control. We have given up the control, and in turn, it has been smooth sailing. I would have never thought that moving your family of four across the world in less than eight weeks could happen so seamlessly, but it has nothing to do with me or Blake.<br />
<br />
We are here.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure why we are here, but we are here.<br />
We came because we were asked to.<br />
Now, we just have to keep listening.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3YMcrA7sUjj1rHmvOyXn2OoJA0ggOYGdJO0IwBjTfE-kH_PbRs_8n2zHPF-pEJ2sfg7QtKWtQWmWcNVh3cWIVfDqCxTJj6IoiGadK4MLYWWi_chb4hFBzVkL01iVtzrHV6iP-flNAS0s/s1600/10933781_10102849309672467_2009651255278164080_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3YMcrA7sUjj1rHmvOyXn2OoJA0ggOYGdJO0IwBjTfE-kH_PbRs_8n2zHPF-pEJ2sfg7QtKWtQWmWcNVh3cWIVfDqCxTJj6IoiGadK4MLYWWi_chb4hFBzVkL01iVtzrHV6iP-flNAS0s/s1600/10933781_10102849309672467_2009651255278164080_n.jpg" height="330" width="640" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6207829202596446627.post-63962303353691196702015-02-10T17:01:00.000-06:002015-02-10T17:10:52.904-06:00The Day We Moved Our Family to Australia!Wednesday was a whirlwind of a day...<br />
<br />
We had spent the night on Tuesday at the Houstonian Hotel, and we ordered a nice spread of room service for breakfast before heading out the door Wednesday morning... No later than 7:00AM.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
I didn't sleep well the night before, tossing and turning in anticipation of the coming of the next day. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
It was going to be "The Day We Moved Our Family to Australia".</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We got back to our house on Purple Finch before our ride arrived to take us to the airport. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Two cars were scheduled to pick us up. We couldn't all fit into one vehicle with all of our luggage. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTfrI4j40BYs_sTCh_g2yq0Dj4anx15SIud22ZHPD6zX-ARLkOdVK8fu2_b1C8QohoVDtX3e7KbyoStEl-0AAC6oxIV2LqnIpXkLMBFELev1BygUzHd5uNXNvZrpdUH53bEzD92FI1JSA/s1600/10423678_10102897688256397_4729937862942022020_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTfrI4j40BYs_sTCh_g2yq0Dj4anx15SIud22ZHPD6zX-ARLkOdVK8fu2_b1C8QohoVDtX3e7KbyoStEl-0AAC6oxIV2LqnIpXkLMBFELev1BygUzHd5uNXNvZrpdUH53bEzD92FI1JSA/s1600/10423678_10102897688256397_4729937862942022020_n.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We had eight bags that we were planning on carrying onto the plane with us. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
The contents of these bags included:</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Three iPads</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Two Laptops</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Two Changes of Clothes per Person</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Toothbrushes and Toiletries</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Endless Toys, Games, Coloring Books, Crayons, etc.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Books and Magazines</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
All My Jewelry</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
And, of course, the two things that mothers of twins know not to leave the country (or the house) without- Melatonin and Birth Control (Lots of Birth Control)</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We checked two car seats and six bags (each bag weighing as close to the 70lbs limit as possible).</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
The contents of these bags included:</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Clothes, Clothes, and More Clothes</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Shoes</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
More Toiletries</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
and somehow... a Yoga Mat </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
(Who knows how that got real estate in the suitcase?)</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm not exactly sure how we managed to move all that luggage from Point A (the car) to Point B (the check-in counter) without pulling some sort of muscle (or having a blood vessel explode in our brains), but by nothing short of a miracle, we did it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Going through security with two small children is actually easier, curiously, than without two small children. People were more patient, and since they don't have to take their shoes off, it wasn't that bad. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Easton wasn't super keen that he had to hand over his backpack momentarily, but he was distracted with the process as a whole just enough that it wasn't a big deal. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We hung out for a bit, ate McDonald's, read, played, and piddled on iPads until we boarded the first flight of the day. We took up four of the nine First Class seats, and we were rock stars for those few hours. The flight attendants passed out little snacks, like apples, cookies, bananas, and such throughout the flight, and between Easton taking a short nap and Samantha watching a movie, we made it through that first flight without incident. (Not counting the few seconds that Easton got his head stuck in between the seats...)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
*Exhale. Take deep breath in. Move to the next step.* </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Let me just come out and say what everyone thinks... LAX sucks. Huge.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We had to exit the plane, take a shuttle from the isolated American terminal to Terminal C, exit the Domestic Terminal, and walk on a tiny sidewalk with two small children and eight carry-on bags to the International Terminal. That walk was an easy fifteen minute stroll when it was just Blake and I, but with the massive amounts of people and the two struggling three-year-olds each carrying a backpack and pulling a larger backpack, it was the worst part of the whole trip. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
At separate times, both Samantha and Easton were brought to tears by the pushy people who cared nothing about running them over in an attempt to reach their destination only slightly sooner than if they had just been civil and waited like decent human beings. These people came within inches of their demise without even realizing it... Or perhaps they did as they shrunk at my glare. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Next time we'll take the bus that takes twice as long as walking. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
LAX sucks. Whatever. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Once we made it through security and entered the International Terminal, things were much better. This terminal is very nice, recently redone, and has so many colorful things for kids to stare at. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We made our way to the Qantas Lounge, and I hung out there with out stuff, charging our electronics, having some sort of fancy coffee that was recommended, and downloading the latest episode of Justified (of course) for Blake. Blake took Samantha and Easton to the God-sent playground one floor below, and they ran around like mad for a little over a hour. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
By the time our flight had started to board, Blake and I had changed Samantha and Easton into their pajamas and given them a snack. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We walked right onto the plane and found our way to our seats in Business Class. We all settled into our flight with orange juice or champagne, and we placed our breakfast orders for the next morning. Our flight left at 6:30PM (but to us it was 8:30PM in Houston). After takeoff, the attendants brought Samantha and Easton their dinner immediately, and almost instantly after they were finished, both fell asleep.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Blake and I ate our dinner leisurely, and I went to bed, sleeping for a solid five hours before waking up enough to peak over the side of my seat to check on the still snoozing Samantha. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Samantha and Easton slept for a solid nine hours(!) before waking. They each then ate a few snacks that I had packed, while Blake had a cup of coffee and I had a cup of tea. It was nice and relaxed, although I checked the time over and over, sure that the kids would get restless and upset at any moment. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
They never did.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After breakfast, we all freshened up, brushing our teeth, changing into clothes, and gathering all of our things. We landed shortly after. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Samantha and Easton weren't scared at all with any aspect of the flight, and they really enjoyed the taking off and landing. They both squealed loudly when we landed on both flights! Being on an airplane was everything they had thought it would be and more, but of course how could it not when your flight is in Business Class? Lucky little things... </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
(Side-note: I am fairly certain that there may never be another flight
where we will be flying in Business Class or First Class. Maybe when we
fly home to move back, but Blake's company paid for these flights, and they were
amazing. Definitely made the trip so much easier than it'll be when we
fly back to visit. Sigh.)</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Collecting our bags was all kinds of fun... Not. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We somehow managed to stack them in teetering piles on two carts and maneuver successfully through customs. Thankfully, our driver was waiting for us on the other side, and he took over pushing my cart so I was able to hold a few hands and coax a pair of confused kids through the airport, the parking lot, and into unfamiliar car seats. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
From there, we were off to the hotel... And that is a whole other blog post. Whew. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
*Exhale. Take deep breath in. Move to the next step.* </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14213919599010887268noreply@blogger.com0