tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83139463255697257732024-03-13T16:44:20.977-04:00Average AdventuressAdventure is out there!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-40062466739502273242021-07-11T12:51:00.002-04:002021-08-05T22:44:18.797-04:00This Summer's Maine Event<p>That's right. Your favorite blogger is back from ACTUALLY GOING SOMEWHERE and is going to give ya the scoop. Try not to fall out of your chair in shock.</p><p>Back at the beginning of May, when there were still an impossible amount of days left in this hellish school year, I texted my friend Rachel: "Yo let's plan a trip for the summer...I got the itch to travel." Within an hour, we'd decided on destination: Maine for immediately following the end of the school year. </p><p>I know what you're thinking: why Maine? Three words: Acadia National Park.<br /></p><p>Having decided that an 11-hour drive during the daytime would be a waste, we departed at 8:00pm on Thursday and drove through the night, arriving in Bar Harbor bright and early. Obviously coffee was the first (okay, the ONLY) thing on our minds, so after quickly scoping out our breakfast options (well, as quickly as two coffee addicts can when sleep-deprived and suffering from caffeine withdrawal) we got a table at Jordan's, ordering, in addition to the obvious coffee, their famous blueberry muffins, because, well, Maine...blueberries. Duh.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmRsLCMnLoSIXuBpAmx6IE570ee9KWPnagKf_FQsr-bJgXPOsbXixarDw0JSR7RD4ha1sWHRQN6qtAn2CgFvuiBXAwzujK3a71iYRZzNvbfKNKOgqI5Xv-r4Rag6-OitzwIPao9Pq-oBt/s405/bugger.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="285" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmRsLCMnLoSIXuBpAmx6IE570ee9KWPnagKf_FQsr-bJgXPOsbXixarDw0JSR7RD4ha1sWHRQN6qtAn2CgFvuiBXAwzujK3a71iYRZzNvbfKNKOgqI5Xv-r4Rag6-OitzwIPao9Pq-oBt/s320/bugger.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(This is where a picture of the aforementioned muffin should be, but in
true Jess form, I didn't think to take a picture of my food until it was
WAY too late.)</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Feeling somewhat more prepared to take on the day now that we were fed and caffeinated, we set off to explore Bar Harbor a bit more, me with one earbud tuned into the virtual professional development I'd signed up for before realizing I'd be out of town. (Whoops...thank goodness there was a good cell signal in town.) <br /></p><p>Having strolled up and down the main roads in town and bought maple candy to keep our energy levels up, we took the recommendation of a lady in the souvenir shop to check out the "Pahk Loop Road." A quick stop in the Visitor's Center for a park map ended in a sprint to the car when it suddenly started POURING. Since we couldn't check into our Airbnb for a few more hours, we decided not to let a little downpour stop us from our first foray into Acadia. </p><p>Signs for Sand Beach caught our eye, so after strewing the contents of our backpacks all over the backseat in search of our rain gear, we ventured out. <br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCIU-dRKbMoPRHD_wVftceDEwZvkCYaY2MWKLNygHI-bd3ixCYshuuTArle7goyUJB2CC34M0hodX6iNzNyJ6jgeFDDW-7rRy4PFVFDMzInaDe-wByWVnDtdjhkkimWq36wvsyJ1G0Efp/s4032/IMG_3631.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCIU-dRKbMoPRHD_wVftceDEwZvkCYaY2MWKLNygHI-bd3ixCYshuuTArle7goyUJB2CC34M0hodX6iNzNyJ6jgeFDDW-7rRy4PFVFDMzInaDe-wByWVnDtdjhkkimWq36wvsyJ1G0Efp/w480-h640/IMG_3631.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laughing at the fact that I almost didn't pack my rain pants.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>It was rather nice to have the beach to ourselves actually, especially once the clouds quit dumping on us. </p><p>After getting overly excited about spotting a seal (that I may or may not have initially thought was an otter) we did a bit more driving around the park, which didn't do much to really orient us since we couldn't see past the heavy fog that lingered after the storm.<br /></p><p>It will come as no surprise that we crashed early once at our Airbnb that night...I think I was dead asleep by like 7:30. Driving through the night sure does a number on one's circadian rhythm.</p><p>Thanks in part to a 4:45 sunrise--did you know that Maine is essentially an hour ahead of Maryland, daylight-wise? I sure didn't--we got an early start to our Saturday. Since the weather still wasn't the greatest, we decided to save the more epic hikes on our list for another day and headed to the trailhead at Echo Lake instead to check off some hikes a little further down our list. </p><p>We got a smidge lost trying to find a fire tower at the summit of Beech Mountain, but boy were the views worth it!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4x5K5aqcRmKeMTxr_ffMQFgY2fF-Q1ZhBpXy3liBS8PU0KO5HlJsyYuOtIyE6vG9fJeBJMdHtIRWsGXtWd71yqP8dujBWjcveww3kqELMkP7rkhin0j1DcPC86LRwFBmV_dqcsWssY8_/s4424/20210626_105913.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2578" data-original-width="4424" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4x5K5aqcRmKeMTxr_ffMQFgY2fF-Q1ZhBpXy3liBS8PU0KO5HlJsyYuOtIyE6vG9fJeBJMdHtIRWsGXtWd71yqP8dujBWjcveww3kqELMkP7rkhin0j1DcPC86LRwFBmV_dqcsWssY8_/w640-h374/20210626_105913.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, wait...no they weren't.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Finally giving up around noon, we headed back to Echo Lake, where the fog had cleared enough at sea level to attract a few brave beach-goers. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFwb4u8de3GyijaJNPS2-udPTl8FtH4po2mXgtI_ziXXtm_TSZmnUroIRg1Ry1pWhT67TpQhkJDbJhyphenhyphendREG1I_weX0igpfQR8FW2quo0iQPL8Wx850NVDXobZsYcNIYX-KfcbFBjok1Ql/s4000/20210626_114040.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2278" data-original-width="4000" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFwb4u8de3GyijaJNPS2-udPTl8FtH4po2mXgtI_ziXXtm_TSZmnUroIRg1Ry1pWhT67TpQhkJDbJhyphenhyphendREG1I_weX0igpfQR8FW2quo0iQPL8Wx850NVDXobZsYcNIYX-KfcbFBjok1Ql/w640-h364/20210626_114040.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picnicking and people-watching.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>We decided to stick to sea level for the rest of the day and drove along the coast on the west side of the island (AKA, the less popular side). We spent the afternoon popping in and out of various harbor towns in search of tasty snacks (we found some!) and staring moodily off into the ocean (by which I mean trying not to slip off the rocks and into the Atlantic).</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE9P4pEDu91OJuIMmov6G5id7M-P0AD410m1htDtTcE7Cq2UnY6Q8p798IjpNxWmyTW3EkHetPouKWL07263rFXrlX4ciJg9Y4unGaK5TPRkEFGv4WY42aPPMyWJyq_hmVcs9ZoJ4hjRmE/s4000/20210626_122845.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE9P4pEDu91OJuIMmov6G5id7M-P0AD410m1htDtTcE7Cq2UnY6Q8p798IjpNxWmyTW3EkHetPouKWL07263rFXrlX4ciJg9Y4unGaK5TPRkEFGv4WY42aPPMyWJyq_hmVcs9ZoJ4hjRmE/w640-h480/20210626_122845.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nope, don't know that guy.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>After accidentally seeing a lighthouse (having stated that I couldn't care less about seeing a lighthouse, we still somehow managed to stumble upon one 🤷) and discovering a few hidden gems like this...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="5488" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8rmwbyvw0Bns5F7vbDAYsr39mwM6GqvL453-8B4WHmHd6d98hv8uZRTaWdSXIemdqnh_ypqI4-DoIhyFw6hvuMYv7iUaIHCeFoHn0nTqcyF2B2DikQl4-fOQ0v5amXRtPvVnnDnEkjNJk/w640-h332/20210626_152808.jpg" width="640" /></div><p></p><p>...we decided it was dinner time. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6qrCWtmn6izVNLc0pWCTkV58D-iB5-HUjMZCQU26GhWYcmj6EIxcv63wmo9obJneoEDioycanJtfhnDTMxWL14gk8aVuYTsAVyF0suj9p9UVkchaYNjMVeYlFLP-YpA0dFaFerIXoflZN/s4000/20210626_165909.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6qrCWtmn6izVNLc0pWCTkV58D-iB5-HUjMZCQU26GhWYcmj6EIxcv63wmo9obJneoEDioycanJtfhnDTMxWL14gk8aVuYTsAVyF0suj9p9UVkchaYNjMVeYlFLP-YpA0dFaFerIXoflZN/w640-h480/20210626_165909.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our server was impressed with my tenacity in getting every last bit of meat out of this sucker...I told her I'd had years of practice on Maryland crabs, hon.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>We only slightly regretted the decision to dine outside when it became so chilly that the melted butter re-solidified. <br /></p><p>Sunday morning was another early start, as we were headed for some of the more popular hikes that day, starting with Beehive Mountain, which overlooks Sand Beach. <br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk9fk1bTRWaxWcWozyafRYZNV9zh_tDs-yn6pESu7y6YafYtwmMK4DvsRMMTq9X4Hq7bejtqHjUuVHcvByExj7tPmdOM6miRX-QyAnHJfGURO8DwbQ-63cftmjmT33XoBThCCMySBiEC4_/s4000/20210627_090701.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk9fk1bTRWaxWcWozyafRYZNV9zh_tDs-yn6pESu7y6YafYtwmMK4DvsRMMTq9X4Hq7bejtqHjUuVHcvByExj7tPmdOM6miRX-QyAnHJfGURO8DwbQ-63cftmjmT33XoBThCCMySBiEC4_/w640-h480/20210627_090701.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a fun hike...lots of rock scrambling and hanging onto iron railings on the way up!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>As we hiked down the other side of Beehive, we got a few short gasps of sun through the clouds, which made already gorgeous views even more spectacular.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSKGbDAL1f5q7yw7rBgSbHi-ye8_rwrPOYYBVWcpAJnkRjWuTRzqHOvrijE3Bl8uesbHE_l5-sbkAjnZwBfwnqIvhLnOBVK9LgVsTue3LSdnX6EC2efLuPgupSfz6Apa4q1b6FuocGQica/s4000/20210627_092507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSKGbDAL1f5q7yw7rBgSbHi-ye8_rwrPOYYBVWcpAJnkRjWuTRzqHOvrijE3Bl8uesbHE_l5-sbkAjnZwBfwnqIvhLnOBVK9LgVsTue3LSdnX6EC2efLuPgupSfz6Apa4q1b6FuocGQica/w640-h480/20210627_092507.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>The revelation of these new spectacular views lured us back toward the water, and we followed the Ocean Path for several hours with our eyes wide open.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUv_KWPqo70ECAgOZDzJl56qeUBzZBmwd6y5nFYtWG5MPDtMmUGGQMh8gbA2vz7g7HeVr1zGGWhQmwQayYzZ00xvgZY8ddlQST14WU-YO9SPLjHfaG31OV0Kigafni1IxdYdAZQidHevI/s4000/20210627_104427.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUv_KWPqo70ECAgOZDzJl56qeUBzZBmwd6y5nFYtWG5MPDtMmUGGQMh8gbA2vz7g7HeVr1zGGWhQmwQayYzZ00xvgZY8ddlQST14WU-YO9SPLjHfaG31OV0Kigafni1IxdYdAZQidHevI/w640-h480/20210627_104427.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just look at this!!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>We turned around after a couple of hours and made our way back to Sand Beach, which was a whole other world with the sun shining. We ditched the hiking boots and braved the Atlantic up to about our ankles. (We'd laughed at the sign at the entrance to the beach, but it was 100% correct: that water is <i>wicked </i>cold!)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gXR8kAvH7GBmnP5gj7XVH4iC5ln1Tg4IR8wSCN3Au-pIFI9uij6Rc3IQavSFMo0EK4Zdtr1m1E_tXyol2O5lzxoSrHuWEgfJ1pu5BbOVdPPbF2R8uJp-_kYpvPdF1jpcK4PkCB5c5xl4/s4000/20210627_122836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gXR8kAvH7GBmnP5gj7XVH4iC5ln1Tg4IR8wSCN3Au-pIFI9uij6Rc3IQavSFMo0EK4Zdtr1m1E_tXyol2O5lzxoSrHuWEgfJ1pu5BbOVdPPbF2R8uJp-_kYpvPdF1jpcK4PkCB5c5xl4/w640-h480/20210627_122836.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>We made our way out of Acadia the long way that afternoon and headed back into Bar Harbor in search of dinner and aloe vera. (We were now very much regretting the decision not to make a pit stop at the car for sunscreen before hitting the Ocean Path.)</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIyAfWDmfJJo5WQrLpMW5R5sRXiCFBwr1TTRu7FlI7kuvFUVRyw6ltqxNZxU4LNc0mZ4_z6ZvvEGtCSG8lCHZh9SGBLaznGPXyCKipX9qPoD-q5k_i-OcbuID2xjEQTtLckUAw5iQq3Ujh/s4000/20210627_165620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIyAfWDmfJJo5WQrLpMW5R5sRXiCFBwr1TTRu7FlI7kuvFUVRyw6ltqxNZxU4LNc0mZ4_z6ZvvEGtCSG8lCHZh9SGBLaznGPXyCKipX9qPoD-q5k_i-OcbuID2xjEQTtLckUAw5iQq3Ujh/w480-h640/20210627_165620.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mussels & fried green tomatoes...I could for sure go for some more of them right about now.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>We did some porch sitting at the Airbnb before another early bedtime. (I know, I know...but we had plans to be up at the top of a mountain for the sunrise the next day, so...)</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRBXHEQWzp3omkjvsaMNlmQCwmXRU4Ipy9ESgDfG2wIDgWkX6onAHe5Am8CvpOplI-d0DRsMzHk83fhyphenhyphenH6yNtRLpvrYFUwfARziGrjF02Hhzg1kTVMEfx2zfGy92iuiowVUUoHroBph0tX/s4000/20210627_183855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRBXHEQWzp3omkjvsaMNlmQCwmXRU4Ipy9ESgDfG2wIDgWkX6onAHe5Am8CvpOplI-d0DRsMzHk83fhyphenhyphenH6yNtRLpvrYFUwfARziGrjF02Hhzg1kTVMEfx2zfGy92iuiowVUUoHroBph0tX/w480-h640/20210627_183855.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /> Two-thirty A.M. came awful early on Sunday, but somehow it was still a race against the sun to get to the summit of Cadillac Mountain (the highest peak in Acadia) in time for the sunrise at 4:45AM.<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf8IHF0uORXjQhHIQp-zcANVAslSrGIkoQBfl2DvpJIGM8ljmd2p8kuD1I3VSOsvFV1OmExjWbs_jWgu3uahBQXo2t_8qitjRsZL_8nPzSgh8cdhdHSZl2CyjewTEJqZr9zTEy2QgsGSA4/s4000/20210628_044141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf8IHF0uORXjQhHIQp-zcANVAslSrGIkoQBfl2DvpJIGM8ljmd2p8kuD1I3VSOsvFV1OmExjWbs_jWgu3uahBQXo2t_8qitjRsZL_8nPzSgh8cdhdHSZl2CyjewTEJqZr9zTEy2QgsGSA4/w640-h480/20210628_044141.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made it! (Barely)<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8lL_3AF9RSs4_c7aw-ZJ8_sUSxbkC7QLksrHrSmgDXa_T-kl0SrWkXGbc54pbccz8tc3x74_FeUc_b-UMR_spl19IXSMrIy3__J5OwAaSED-giPBYi9in6Bb_h2_RxHKD4pXYO0b9k1i/s4000/20210628_050208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2765" data-original-width="4000" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8lL_3AF9RSs4_c7aw-ZJ8_sUSxbkC7QLksrHrSmgDXa_T-kl0SrWkXGbc54pbccz8tc3x74_FeUc_b-UMR_spl19IXSMrIy3__J5OwAaSED-giPBYi9in6Bb_h2_RxHKD4pXYO0b9k1i/w640-h442/20210628_050208.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>We hiked down via the Gorge Trail, which lies between Cadillac Mountain and Dorr Mountain. <br /><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Z5k64Lek0CSq9-rtH8Zzw9OBnqfULMTE20RezVpR6UdB_uP_uXfHE7GQOqsRuckXrvDAyj0vwtnUyLcniAgqG7mPBI_Lw13Qt0Qr9-c8rASXBje1658gHA48hUGuhxJsJh48DYvzqHoo/s2048/IMG_3754.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Z5k64Lek0CSq9-rtH8Zzw9OBnqfULMTE20RezVpR6UdB_uP_uXfHE7GQOqsRuckXrvDAyj0vwtnUyLcniAgqG7mPBI_Lw13Qt0Qr9-c8rASXBje1658gHA48hUGuhxJsJh48DYvzqHoo/w640-h480/IMG_3754.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking at Dorr Mountain from the far side of Cadillac Mountain.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>We had this gorgeous trail entirely to ourselves, except for two crazy
(but very nice) guys who passed us as they were RUNNING down this (very
steep, very rocky) trail.</p><p>Around 8:30AM, after having second-guessed where we'd parked (everything looked different in the daylight) we arrived back at the car. By this point, we'd been up for 6 hours and had already hiked 9 miles. It was time for some serious breakfast.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRkOToIFSrS_nffphH5NlfKh-dLK1i_rgiXtVqnMh-Tg4hW9xybV4ht85vPqGlr6g3MqAa2WIxpGwXkHwky4lFwBkwM4B696pzVCzrjTtP2hJJzvE5GfDcCez798GEOHO_neUqFL6jov3/s4000/20210628_090532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRkOToIFSrS_nffphH5NlfKh-dLK1i_rgiXtVqnMh-Tg4hW9xybV4ht85vPqGlr6g3MqAa2WIxpGwXkHwky4lFwBkwM4B696pzVCzrjTtP2hJJzvE5GfDcCez798GEOHO_neUqFL6jov3/w480-h640/20210628_090532.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We don't mess around when it comes to breakfast.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>We did a bit more wandering along the carriage roads through the park before we attempted to check out Jordan Pond and the famous popovers served at its shoreside restaurant. I say attempted, but we weren't the only ones with that idea and the wait time was BONKERS. So we slowly made our way back to the Airbnb for a nap. </p><p>On the way there, it occurred to me that we were not far from Echo Lake and that our swimsuits were in fact in the backseat...</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR1Q4Mo5TJ_qFOEX8_E6bZvpH6xRi8jszBXSFz9YbsSiKCK3T9H4cJpjqFyxni6QrH9p9hvyfYMqhtm9gupwIJOudQUHSH4wBhdub1XDLvBNdkY5S7pXAwztdh79UL60xXYC7RVqmLu0Xa/s4000/20210628_131247.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR1Q4Mo5TJ_qFOEX8_E6bZvpH6xRi8jszBXSFz9YbsSiKCK3T9H4cJpjqFyxni6QrH9p9hvyfYMqhtm9gupwIJOudQUHSH4wBhdub1XDLvBNdkY5S7pXAwztdh79UL60xXYC7RVqmLu0Xa/w480-h640/20210628_131247.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p>...so we took a little detour. </p><p>One much-needed power nap later, we made our way into Bar Harbor one last time, where we once again dined <i>al fresco</i>. </p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="3408" height="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihOOmf0dJZvRKGR0TjPEE-BlZE_1RkFXeF9BlbXVcOVMvUHO1B8Xaw-DBJu6A390NxFCrgMPppJp-4sOiQ0hyzVEHd1FnEFoerc7oJ7MwWkmCeUHgt5TfaFOAsbkuWGw2lMTM_Ev8vCxY8/w640-h564/20210628_173232.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fish tacos<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhak0I1Fs0oHGamOrj5GhzY_TYzEatU4PW9aA6SYmnHRzHaCc4f6eEcx-U-C_LTHa5Tqpqkm7e8OmOtPwKOOAUH9BHrIuyUTg7l9ZwggY5o2zrpvXGBrXdbgV5ozglYIPdmzgM3LqEUovD1/s3307/20210628_175528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2365" data-original-width="3307" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhak0I1Fs0oHGamOrj5GhzY_TYzEatU4PW9aA6SYmnHRzHaCc4f6eEcx-U-C_LTHa5Tqpqkm7e8OmOtPwKOOAUH9BHrIuyUTg7l9ZwggY5o2zrpvXGBrXdbgV5ozglYIPdmzgM3LqEUovD1/w640-h458/20210628_175528.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We let ourselves get talked into blueberry pie. <br />(Okay, fine, we were going to order it anyway even before our server suggested it.)<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p>After lazing on the lawn overlooking the harbor itself, watching the boats going in and out, we decided it was time for some ice cream. (Yes, dessert again. Are you really surprised?) <br /></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6DlQDEcT4hxug3KLEfiVFYxYTQKKBQF7UjNNYPAH0ciMaq6ykDF6_rheMCecQ3GTZkCo5s4n-TU18QwS5qczhEceZfAa0cbn0161gAqNqfmnxeI5hTaGiskZg5Q8CbFTOCUaMG5PVxQRI/s4000/20210628_190901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6DlQDEcT4hxug3KLEfiVFYxYTQKKBQF7UjNNYPAH0ciMaq6ykDF6_rheMCecQ3GTZkCo5s4n-TU18QwS5qczhEceZfAa0cbn0161gAqNqfmnxeI5hTaGiskZg5Q8CbFTOCUaMG5PVxQRI/w480-h640/20210628_190901.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irish mudslide in a fresh waffle-cone bowl...life doesn't get much better.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p>We bade adieu to Mount Desert Island bright and early the next morning and headed for home. I have nothing to say about the drive home except that New York drivers are the worst, gas prices in New York are ridiculous, and the traffic pattern at the George Washington Bridge (combined with the aforementioned New York drivers) makes for a HORRENDOUS experience. The end.<br /></p><p></p><p>To my loyal readers: thanks for sticking with me through my frequent and lengthy hiatuses--hiati?--I'm hoping to sneak in a few more posts this summer before the new school year sucks up my entire life again this fall. <br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-82474019649064934692021-01-10T17:04:00.003-05:002021-08-05T22:47:48.108-04:00A Day in the Life<div class="separator"></div><div><p>Ever wondered what it's like teaching elementary school virtually? </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="641" data-original-width="604" height="400" src="https://3c534w2w7sa3ma8ved14ax12-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/meme12.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="377" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a whole new can of worms.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p>My day usually starts around 5:45am, with an artificial sunrise alarm clock that makes waking up before actual sunrise marginally less unbearable. Coffee is the immediate priority, obviously. </p><p>Then once my coffee cup and eyes are about half empty and half open, respectively, I get dressed. Since it's winter, usually this means a nice sweater or blouse and cardigan, with fleece-lined leggings, fuzzy socks, and slippers completing the ensemble. One of the very few perks of teaching from home: I only have to look professional from the waist up. (A student asked me in October, "Is this what you look like at real school?" I said yes. What they don't know won't hurt them.) <br /></p><p>By 7:00am I'm usually logged on to my work computer. Class doesn't start until 9:00am but I need the time to prep my PowerPoints and assignments. Theoretically, there 95 minutes of daily planning time built into my duty day, but even when I get all 95 of those minutes (read: on the rare occasions that there are no meetings scheduled during that time), 95 minutes is still not enough to: </p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>grade assignments, </li><li>sort through and respond to the approximately 8,000 emails from parents, principals, and colleagues who don't know the difference between "Reply" and "Reply All,"</li><li>create a day's worth of lessons and online assignments essentially from scratch (because the majority of "digital lessons" provided by my school district are in reality Word documents with a few vague suggestions) <br /></li><li>do whatever else gets put on my to-do list by someone else. <br /></li></ul></div><p>At about 8:45am, I microwave my half-cup of now-cold coffee that I forgot to finish drinking as soon as I opened my computer, and then I log on to Google Meet. It's not an exaggeration to say that within 0.002 seconds of my starting the online meeting, a happy little "bing!" announces the arrival of at least 2 students. I spend the next 10 to 15 minutes alternating between listening to what everyone had for breakfast, dodging rather personal questions ("Ms. L., how come you're not married?"), and repeating the same beginning-of-class instructions I read off the screen every day: "Finish eating your breakfast, use the bathroom, make sure you have your Math and Reading books and a pencil, make sure your computer is fully charged or plugged in, make sure you are in a quiet place where you can focus."</p><p>You would think that they know the drill by now, especially since all of these directions are also on the screen, with pictures, as they have been since day one. But you would be wrong, because every day, several children will turn on their microphones when I am mid-sentence halfway through a lesson to inform me that they're going to the bathroom, or going to get their notebook, or grabbing a charger, or they can't hear me, shouting over the TV blaring in their background to let me know. (These are the moments when I say, "Okay, class. Ms. L. needs to take some deep breaths now before she flips her lid. Take some deep breaths with me now, everybody.")</p><p>*IN....aaaannd OUT..........IN..........aaaaaannnnnddd OUT.* <br /></p><p>I like to start off the day with a silly check-in of sorts. Sometimes it's things like, "If you were a donut, what kind would you be?" Last Friday it was:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/74/ea/a7/74eaa729ce94087ffe08b9f512c40a39.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="784" height="400" src="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/74/ea/a7/74eaa729ce94087ffe08b9f512c40a39.png" width="392" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Next up is the Pledge of Allegiance and attendance. (Lately, I've been having the kids say a tongue-twister when I call their names. I tell them it's good fluency practice, but really it's just because hearing twenty-two 8-year-olds trying to say "Unique New York" is freaking hilarious.)<br /><p>Then we move into Math, during which I have to remind multiple students multiple times that it is not in fact nap time, so you need to please sit up and pick up your pencil. After about 35 minutes of this, I send a link in the meeting chat to a quick quiz so I can see what the kids understand and what I'll need to reteach. Only about 60% of my students will actually click the link and do the assignment, leaving me to guess at what the other 40% have (or haven't) learned and try to plan my next lesson accordingly. <br /></p><p>After that, we move into small group time. I meet with a quarter of my class at a time to try to reinforce what we covered in whole-group...assuming the kids log on when they're supposed to. Which, considering I tell them at the end of Math exactly who needs to be back at what time, and send them a link to the timer in the chat, AND send their parents a copy of our schedule every week, you would think they would at least mostly do. But again, you would be incorrect. </p><p>*Breathe IN....aaaannd OUT..........IN..........aaaaaannnnnddd OUT.* <br /></p><p>Rinse and repeat for each subject throughout the day, with an increasing number of students showing up late to class, if at all, as the day goes on. Throw in a few dozen technical difficulties of varying degrees for me to navigate (in case you're wondering, it's not exactly a cakewalk to troubleshoot remotely with an 8-year-old on the other end) and forgotten usernames and passwords (which haven't changed since the kids were in first grade)...small wonder I sometimes need a 10-minute nap at lunch to get through the rest of the day.</p><p>At 3:10pm, the very end of the day, I offer 20 minutes of "Optional Help Time" for the students to log back on and work on their assignments with me. Of course, the few students who choose to show up are almost always the students who have already completed their assignments. In that case, we usually do a read-aloud (we just finished <i>Frindle </i>before Winter Break), or we play some Simon Says, or I just let the kids talk to me and to each other about whatever they want. Even though by this point in the day, my brain is totally fried and my eyes hurt and I still have a million and one things on my to-do list, I'm secretly bummed to kick the kids off at 3:30. Those 20 minutes of just hanging out with my students are secretly my favorite part of the day.<br /></p><p>Often I take a break after that and go outside or get a workout in, and sometimes I just power through, but either way, I usually work at least another hour and a half after school doing things I didn't have time to do during my actual work day...with still plenty left to do when I log back on at 7:00 tomorrow morning. *sigh*<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="300" src="https://thumbs.gfycat.com/BrightSourCommongonolek-size_restricted.gif" width="400" /></div><p>Man, I miss actually being in school. The kids miss it, too. At least once a day, I get a question about what our real classroom is like and what we would be doing if we were there right now. We miss high-fives and hugs, birthday crowns and science experiments. We miss actual books and paper assignments. We miss the cafeteria, the classroom, recess. Most of all of course we miss just getting to go somewhere every day and be around other people...<br /></p><p>But, as I tell the kiddos, we have to keep reminding ourselves that this is temporary. This is the safe thing to do right now. One day, we will go back to "real" school. ("When?" they ask me. 😭) Until then, we just gotta try to make the best of it and keep on keeping on.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></p><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></p><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></p><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></p><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aria-label="Photo - Portrait - Nov 21, 2018, 12:19:25 PM" class="SzDcob" data-atf="false" data-iml="194818" height="722" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/PE0t2ITvtrL-frqBKThuSe2xN8uJBH_a5Ud1PaGiW8D0Lf65-kNVZOJUUeo-OZThj-z02IB2h1Kb5RSHNRF3gJeY21S8758swZASWwIA-Om4wYqemAZtXmZww_GWLftI3zjQ1rcx9ztBbxj0sbly5BJL782dbK17MQFDUdVpBzGZalQALQxkixwz4W73l42uhNBOj-XGgFM2UhjdvzY94BdpK_kNIFCluY_DANOEidSvijTf104kze37zNV5VX80uvU6dJbfYTTaNFEc-VCMbEvut6_nzzc31UdHRiCe7NYqipugqLvYTdLvzHQarjXCA7M0isNufGazH8xcnT274rU5MZJjhPeZvXUajdDEIFG_dPGjIyAovxhQUUBKWnf_RTFtM29akiJbNvwg7BtMlVOoUn2dbTLTEXxmP0mMLzF1UZxRHki79Nc_ZIP3jMCjesYMG4QlLeIN5Ai6QoSnOGkNVd6azZHQ4TR3_9X5DPF0kJTxghLA3bz_w38SLNTas0GBMGQAAt2bKWbVcN-7hR5FTP3lun__ywh6P9vBM1GByItPr1MXTQit1SNSi70rqrnpTvg2aNc1SspFOzQDVW258QVcBIjMz5ex6-6me9Gw8B0CilRDJMRi52_EQB48EyRuQ90_m7yPX7SuWZRpeJ3txLr1EzrW_fiQLGepaFQqHW1AiE5HwIn2chrE1xU=w509-h903-no?authuser=0" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="407" /> </p><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">On the bright side, I didn't have to remind any of my students to put on pants this week. #littlevictories</p><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">Anything else you wanna know about the teacher life? Hit me up. 🠋<br /></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-85256089875821180232020-12-31T16:32:00.001-05:002020-12-31T16:32:13.197-05:00Here's Looking at You, 2021.<p>Let's not dwell on 2020 too terribly much; it's sufficient to say that it's been a rough year no matter who you are. I don't know about you, but I am SO ready to say <i>adi</i><i><span class="QXzCSe"><span class="fJyiwb" id="tw-bil-st">ó</span></span>s </i>to 2020. </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://media.giphy.com/media/KctrWMQ7u9D2du0YmD/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://media.giphy.com/media/KctrWMQ7u9D2du0YmD/giphy.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, to 2020.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p>In just a few short hours, it will be a whole new year, shiny and full of potential. In the spirit of new beginnings, it's time for some new intentions. (AKA New Year's Resolutions™, though <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/2019/01/new-year-new-words.html" target="_blank">I stopped calling them that</a> a couple of years ago.) </p><p>In the field of education, we talk a lot about something called a <i>growth mindset</i>. In a <a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/2014/01/29/carol-dweck-mindset/" target="_blank">growth mindset</a>, failures are seen as learning opportunities and personal traits as a "starting point for development." For example, a person with a growth mindset might fail a math test and say, "Okay, let me look back at the problems I've missed and see if I can figure out how to do them correctly so I'll get better at this type of problem. I'll ask my teacher to help me with the ones I can't figure out." (By contrast, in a <i>fixed mindset</i>, a person's traits and qualities are perceived as unchangeable, and failures are, well...failures. I.e., "I failed that test because I'm not good at math.") Focusing on perfection (or lack thereof) can be very disheartening. A growth mindset is empowering because it focuses on making progress, which everyone is capable of making, rather than an unattainable standard of "perfection," which almost certainly means failure one way or another. </p><p>If you're setting goals for self-improvement, congrats! You're already incorporating some principles of the growth mindset. 🎉 Now let's take a closer look at the goals you're setting...<br /></p><p>A few weeks ago--during a faculty meeting of all things!--I had a bit of an epiphany in terms of personal development. In a segment about the best ways to correct and redirect students' behavior, including our tone, body language, word choice, and more, we were reminded to focus on the behaviors that we want to encourage, not those that we want to discourage. <b>Whatever we give our attention to is what will continue. </b></p><p>If you've ever failed at a New Year's Resolution™ or any other goal (I say "if," but if you say you haven't, you and I both know you're full of s***) it may have been because you had a <i>negative </i>focus, e.g. "Stop eating junk food." To rephrase this goal using <i>positive </i>language, try something like, "Replace unhealthy snacks with healthy ones, and intentionally choose my 'treats.'" Now you're concentrating on the behavior that you want to establish and continue, rather than the one you want to quit. This makes it easier to focus on and celebrate your successes, rather than beat yourself up over "failures." </p><p>And, as in a growth mindset, remember to look at your "failures" as learning opportunities. For example: Why did I eat that entire bag of Cheetos? Because I was completely engrossed in "The Queen's Gambit" and didn't realize how much I was eating. What could I do differently next time? Well, I could pour out some Cheetos into a small bowl to exercise portion control, or swap them out for guilt-free baby carrots. </p><p>Another way to revamp your New Year's goals? Try <a href="https://www.smartsheet.com/blog/essential-guide-writing-smart-goals" target="_blank">SMART goals</a>:</p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><b>S</b>pecific - "Get in shape." 👎 "Get at least 3 twenty-minute workouts a week."👍<br /></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><b>M</b>easurable - How will you track your progress toward your goal?<br /></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><b>A</b>chievable - If you've never run a mile in your life, don't expect to run a marathon in February.<br /></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><b>R</b>elevant - Why are you setting this goal? You've got to have a good reason to help keep you motivated!<br /></p><p style="margin-left: 40px; text-align: left;"><b>T</b>ime-Bound - Having checkpoints for yourself will help track your progress, keep you motivated, and provide opportunities to re-evaluate as needed. <br /></p><p>For me personally, I've found that large goals with smaller steps built in to each tends to work best for me. (See my <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/2019/01/new-year-new-words.html" target="_blank">2019 Goals & Intentions</a>.) That being said, this past year has been an education in terms of realizing simultaneously how much and how little I can control. There are still a lot of unknowns going into 2021, and considering how far off the mark I was with how I thought 2020 was going to go, I'm not even going to attempt to predict what this upcoming year will look like. <br /></p><p>So my 2021 Mantra, if you will...<br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>I will direct my energies toward what I can control </b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>& let go of what is beyond my control.</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Global pandemic? Largely beyond my control. What I can control is wearing my mask, social distancing, etc. to keep myself and others safe and healthy. Whether my gym is open: not within my control. Being a total couch potato all day or going on a 20-minute run <i>and then </i>becoming a couch potato? I can control that. Whether we teach online or in person? Beyond my control. Setting and maintaining work-life boundaries either way? That's something I can control. <br /></div><p>But the biggest thing within my control which influences all else: my mindset. Though there are a LOT of circumstances beyond my control these days, my attitude and my reaction to what's going on around me ARE within my control. When I catch myself with a negative attitude, I need to pause, pivot, and strive for positivity. Easier said than done, but it's something I'll be working on all year (and probably beyond). <br /></p><div><p>All right, now it's your turn: take a moment to think about your goals for 2021. Have you already made them? Do you
want to edit them? Go ahead and write them down somewhere. I'll wait. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1FpHLqVV0CWGRHUXj_mal12v2faLAEvsbVwijv1njplxAUuW3BitH956qQLCEdCEhg2o5O7Vo7tpTSH4g3sWRpt6Rve8DZ9xokt4NU5KxyJDlJ9822W6ldAdFpBI2l5-AnR_kVGlgRrRA/s1334/clock.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="https://gioxcare.wixsite.com/portfolio/fullscreen-page/comp-jqu8gqe5/0eaadb6c-3106-4fdb-aea7-f48df07de7ad/3/%3Fi%3D3%26p%3Dnsok4%26s%3Dstyle-jqu8gqjt" border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1334" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1FpHLqVV0CWGRHUXj_mal12v2faLAEvsbVwijv1njplxAUuW3BitH956qQLCEdCEhg2o5O7Vo7tpTSH4g3sWRpt6Rve8DZ9xokt4NU5KxyJDlJ9822W6ldAdFpBI2l5-AnR_kVGlgRrRA/w320-h240/clock.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously, take your time. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table> </div><div>All done and ready to start fresh tomorrow and every day after that? Yay! Break out the bubbly and get ready to ring in the New Year! 🥳<p>Let's kick start this year with a new attitude and new intentions.<b> </b></p><b>2021, here we come!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Wanna share your resolutions/goals/intentions for the New Year? I'd love to hear them! ⬎<br /><b></b></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-77005585879675150742020-12-29T12:48:00.007-05:002020-12-29T12:51:23.222-05:00The Curve<p> In case you hadn't noticed, there has been a pretty steep curve during this pandemic. Yes, THAT curve... <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://procomm.ieee.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/Covid-19_flatten_the_curve_-_cropped_version_no_cartoon.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="https://procomm.ieee.org/flatten-the-curve-why-certain-messages-catch-on/" border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="800" height="169" src="https://procomm.ieee.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/Covid-19_flatten_the_curve_-_cropped_version_no_cartoon.gif" width="400" /></a></div><p>...but also the learning curve. In the spirit of end-of-year self-reflection, I want to share what I've learned a lot about myself during these last few months. <br /></p><p></p><p>Being the self-aware Type-A person that I am, I've always known that I like having structure to my days. The highly regulated schedule of my school workday and my various dance classes, yoga classes, climbing sessions, and soccer games kept me busy in the best possible way, with just enough leeway for most of the other things I wanted or needed to do. Three years into teaching, I finally had a healthy work-life balance. <br /></p><p>So when the pandemic first shut everything down way back in March, my suddenly empty days scared the SH*T out of me. If it had just been a break from work, I would've been fine. Usually on a school break, I would hit the gym more frequently, see friends and family, pick up some extra dance lessons, travel...none of that was an option this time. Suddenly I had a whole lot of free time--something I try to avoid at all costs--and nothing to fill it with.</p><p>It was as though the loom upon which I'd been weaving the strands of my life together had vanished, and suddenly I was a tangled pile of string on the floor. All I felt able to do was stare at my computer screen, endlessly clicking "Continue Watching" whenever the screen paused and asked if I was still there. (Why don't you just keep your judgment to yourself, Netflix?) The self-loathing that accompanied these days of binge-watching was just an added bonus. <br /></p><p>After about a week or so, this tangled pile of string knew she had to learn how to do macrame and give herself some structure. Who knew if or when that loom she had before might come back? <br /></p><p>I did a lot of walking and running in those early days...anything that got me moving and out of the house made a huge difference in terms of my sanity. I can recall one day when I walked non-stop for 4 hours. (One of the perks of living in the same town you grew up in: almost no thinking required for navigation.) Often, I would call and check in with family members and friends while I walked. </p><p>Unlike the many sourdough dabblers and banana bread fiends at that time, I couldn't really get into cooking and baking due to a less-than-ideal living situation. (Read: psycho roommate who, among other things, couldn't share the kitchen. Fortunately, I was able to escape at the end of April with a few shreds of my sanity.)</p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/42/f3/c2/42f3c297041f68df59c1a3643da43f85.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="329" data-original-width="345" src="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/42/f3/c2/42f3c297041f68df59c1a3643da43f85.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p>It was honestly such a relief when we started teaching online in the spring. At that point, we only had to be online for a couple of hours a day, and it was more about checking in with our students and their families than anything else. Still, that tiny bit of structure made all the difference. Having that one block of time that I needed to work around each day allowed me to build the rest of my day into some semblance of normal. Or at least functional. <br /></p><p>(Of course, virtual school is now eating my entire life, but more on that later.)</p><p>Having had the experience of everything shutting down, I know now just how crucial it is for me to have structure in my day with some form of external accountability in place. I've always thought of myself as a very self-motivated individual, but it turns out that when I have all the time in the world, I become a couch potato. A rather disappointing discovery, I'll admit, but if (Universe forbid) everything were to shut down all over again, I like to think I'd be better able to handle it, armed with this new self-knowledge.</p><p>TLDR; Type A millennial falls apart when COVID shut everything down (shocker) and pulls herself together (ish).<br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Maryland, USA39.0457549 -76.64127119999999110.735521063821153 -111.79752119999999 67.355988736178844 -41.485021199999991tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-657825568773804052020-12-29T08:29:00.002-05:002020-12-29T12:30:20.791-05:00Better Late Than Never<div><p>Belatedly it dawns on me that I probably should've been blogging throughout this whole coronavirus thing for several reasons:</p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><b>Documentation for future generations.</b> I can see it now: me, still teaching 3rd grade 20 years from now, telling my students, "This is what life was like during the great COVID-19 Pandemic." </li><li><b>Documentation for myself.</b> Honestly, I have no idea what I did during most of the initial weeks of lockdown. Would've been interesting to be able to look back and see what the heck I did. (Plus I might have been more motivated to do interesting things for the sake of the blog if nothing else.) </li><li><b>Y'all would've had something to read in those weeks and weeks of lockdown. </b>But then when would you have watched "Tiger King" and baked banana bread?? <br /></li><li><b>When have I ever had so much free time?</b> I mean, sure, now that I'm teaching online, I feel like a first-year teacher again with no time for anything but school and lesson planning and prepping. But in those early days I had nothing BUT time. #missedopportunity </li></ol></div><p>Oh, well...I'm here now. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPPfS8lJcmStcY836PcAnt1ADPBS5V1d-S0baf1A62hDrBC7veEI8usw9BOH7E3aGvrHaDy5CJf77-edgoA4tOiZZgGdW9epw6ArzMfpJQeHJxbFDIjk4xL4PJzR8effHqPGej1OHFvLBt/s640/tada.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Ta-da!" border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="432" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPPfS8lJcmStcY836PcAnt1ADPBS5V1d-S0baf1A62hDrBC7veEI8usw9BOH7E3aGvrHaDy5CJf77-edgoA4tOiZZgGdW9epw6ArzMfpJQeHJxbFDIjk4xL4PJzR8effHqPGej1OHFvLBt/w216-h320/tada.jpeg" width="216" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Better late than never, right?<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>It's been so long that I kind of forgot that I have this blog, to be honest. 🙈 But I've missed writing, so in the interest of doing more of what makes me happy, here I am. While I'm not dumb enough to promise another post soon (and you're not naive enough to believe it even if I did promise it), I will say that you haven't heard the last from me. <br /></p><p>See ya again soon(ish). <br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Maryland, USA39.0457549 -76.64127119999999110.735521063821153 -111.79752119999999 67.355988736178844 -41.485021199999991tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-5042346176932165852019-05-24T08:57:00.003-04:002020-12-28T16:35:20.203-05:00Mid-Year Check-in: 2019 Goals<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px;">
Hello! Long time no see. The end of the school year has been keeping me busy, but it's (finally) winding down, so here I am!<br />
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Since we'll shortly be kicking off the sixth month of 2019, it seems like a good time to check in with my 2019 Intentions. (You may remember my issue with calling them New Year's Resolutions...if not, you can refresh your memory <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/2019/01/new-year-new-words.html" target="_blank">here</a>.)<br />
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I think I've had more success with my not-resolutions than I have with any resolutions that I've made in previous years. (Remember <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/2017/02/whole30-failure-and-road-trip.html" target="_blank">the great Whole30 failure of 2017</a>, anyone?)<br />
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Anyway, the whole point of me writing this here blog post is to 1) celebrate the progress that I've made thus far and 2) take a look at what I still need to work on: </div>
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<li style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: calibri; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><b>Fill my cup. ✔</b></li>
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<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">I resolved to be more fearless about putting myself out there and trying new things. <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/2019/02/your-favorite-blogger-has-new-hobby.html" target="_blank">Taking dance lessons</a> has been a major accomplishment in that area. I basically signed my graceless self up to make a fool out of myself in front of other people three times a week--which is a healthy little ego-check for me--and I'm having a blast. 😃 </li>
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">Lots more climbing and a little more reading and way less bingewatching...definitely all positives. I've also made a conscious effort to have more intentional moments where I am entirely present, like drinking my morning coffee out on the deck and leaving my phone inside. </li>
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">Part of this goal also includes <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/2019/01/things-i-left-in-2018.html" target="_blank">letting shit go</a>. I'm not saying that I have managed to completely stop b<span style="font-family: "calibri";">eating myself up over things I can't change</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";">, but I'm definitely not holding on to stuff for nearly as long.</span><b style="font-family: Calibri;"> </b>I'm also m<span style="font-family: "calibri";">aking fewer excuses for myself. If I screw up, I'm trying to own it rather than find a reason that it wasn't my fault.<b> </b>I've found that once I take accountability for a mistake I've made, it's actually easier to fix it, and eventually let it go. Personal growth? I think so!</span></li>
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I also resolved to let go of</span> p<span style="font-family: "calibri";">eople who don't value/respect me and p</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";">eople who bring out the worst in me. I've been able to do that in a lot of ways--which wasn't always easy, but definitely for the best--but I've also realized that there are some instances where cutting someone out of my life isn't an option. For example, at work. But I'm happy to report that I'm finding ways to deal with these people. I'm not getting into specifics, but I am super proud that I've upped my confrontation game and been able to have somewhat productive conversations with problematic (for lack of a better word) people in order to actually solve the problems, rather than just accepting how these people act toward me. </span></li>
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<li style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: calibri; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><b>Pour from my cup. </b>Less success here...</li>
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<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><b><u>Baby Step #1:</u> Actively trying to think more of others. </b>Unfortunately, I think I'm still fairly oblivious. I am maybe slightly more aware of others' needs/wants/expectations since I set this goal, but it tends to be in an after-the-fact kind of way. Like, we third grade teachers will usually pool our money when we need to buy a gift for someone (which happens a couple of times a month). But when I chip in my money, it never occurs to me that maybe I should volunteer and say, "Hey, I'll buy the gift this time," until after someone else has gone ahead and done it already. Then I have a moment of, "Oh, it probably should've been my turn to buy it." </li>
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><b><u>Baby Step #2:</u> Acting on my awareness of others' needs. </b>Baby Step #1 is kind of a prerequisite for this one, so...not so much progress in this department. Yet.</li>
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<li style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: calibri; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><b>Get on top of my finances. 👍 </b>Making progress!</li>
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<li style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: calibri; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">I've started actually budgeting! *GASP* I've had a few false starts with budgeting in previous years, but I think I've finally found a system that works for me. An app, believe it or not. (If you know me at all, you know I generally prefer low-tech solutions, for <i>Terminator</i>-related reasons.) I use <a href="https://www.everydollar.com/" target="_blank">Everydollar</a> to plan out my money each month, and then track my income and spending as it occurs. Am I always able to stay within my self-imposed limits? No, but I have realized that if I overspend, the money has to come from somewhere. If I buy more clothes, the difference might come out of my dining-out budget for the month. Or maybe it means that I can't put as much into my travel savings. This app has really made it easy to make sure that I'm not spending more than I make, and to work toward my savings goals. (So thanks <a href="https://wrachelwrites.com/" target="_blank">Rachel</a> for sharing your budgeting tips!)</li>
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<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "calibri";"><span style="background-color: white;">I've also discovered <a href="https://www.mrmoneymustache.com/" target="_blank">Mr. Money Mustache</a>, who has changed the way that I look at buying things. Am I living his u</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "calibri";"><span style="background-color: white;">ber-frugal lifestyle and planning to retire at age 30? No, but I am consciously trying to buy less/be more intentional about what I do buy, and am beginning to look into investing to make my money work for me. I've also decided to put off buying a new/new-to-me car until I really need to, which--knock on wood--hopefully won't be for a few years, and by that time it <i>should</i> be completely paid off. </span></span></li>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "calibri";">I'm definitely happy with the progress that I've made so far, but I ain't done yet. Going forward, I want to keep up the good habits that I've cultivated thus far in 2019, and refocus on goal #2: striving for a less self-centered Jess. (Or is saying that on blog all about me too ironic?) </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "calibri";">How are y'all doing with your New Year's Resolutions? I want to hear about your successes and struggles! Comment below. ☺ </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-20629479996416666602019-02-12T10:37:00.002-05:002019-02-12T10:41:02.520-05:001, 2, 3...1, 2, 3...Your favorite blogger has a new hobby.<br />
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As you may recall, one of <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/2019/01/new-year-new-words.html" target="_blank">my goals for 2019</a> is to do more things that fill my cup. It turns out that ballroom dancing is one of those things.</div>
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I've never been a dancer--think stereotypical white guy moves and a few Fortnite dances I bust out when I start to lose my students' attention--but the idea of taking dance lessons has been rolling around in my brain for a while now. I've gone ballroom dancing once or twice before with friends, and I've always had fun. But it just seemed like one of those things that you need someone else to do with you.</div>
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But you know what? I'm not waiting on someone else.</div>
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My philosophy since <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/search/label/Europe%202016" target="_blank">my big Europe trip</a> has been "Screw it, I'm doing what I want, even if it means I'm doing it alone," and it's worked out pretty well for me. I mean, if I waited on other people to do things with me, I wouldn't have gone to <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/search/label/Italy" target="_blank">Italy</a>, I wouldn't have gone <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/search/label/skydiving" target="_blank">skydiving</a>...who knows what else I might miss out on if I'm waiting on someone else?</div>
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So I went and signed myself up for dance lessons.</div>
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And you know what? It's fun, dammit!</div>
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So far, I've learned the basic steps for about 10 different dances, as well as some turns. I've followed a lot of more complicated moves that my dance partners have led me through as well, which I'm rather proud of. [insert nonchalant hair flip here]</div>
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Everyone keeps asking me how long I've been dancing, and they don't believe that I never took lessons before last month. Which is a nice little ego boost for me, but it's also helped me figure out more about myself and how I learn. </div>
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I've come to the conclusion that I'm not a formulaic learner; I don't learn very well when someone tries to explain the steps to me and count them out. I need to see them and just follow along until I get the hang of it. </div>
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My brain seems to do better when it observes and figures out the rules and patterns for itself, rather than having the rules explained to me and then trying to fit things in to those patterns. (Which is probably why I struggled so much with math in school; they'd give me the theorems and say, "Now go use them.") </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But actually.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
When they start counting out the steps out in the group dance lessons, it tends to throw me off; I just need to see the step and how it fits into the music, then go. Ditto for the more complicated moves: as long as I know what it should look like, I can usually follow it.</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I think that's probably how I learned how to write, too: I read a lot of books (good ones and not-so-good ones), subconsciously taking notes on what to do and what not to do as a writer, and then trying my hand at it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Come to think of it, that's how I learned how to do the brakes on my car, too. Couldn't learn that from a book...had to watch my dad and then do what he did. (Thanks, dad!) </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All that to say: it only took me 18 years as a student and 2 as a teacher to figure out the best way for me to learn. #betterlatethannever</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<div>
Anywho, this dancing fool will be looking to take her skills out for a spin soon. </div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All I'm missing is Patrick Swayze.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: candara; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" src="https://media1.popsugar-assets.com/files/thumbor/-xYJjd6ur6QKFMxfiV7O2LqgZ2Q/fit-in/1024x1024/filters:format_auto-!!-:strip_icc-!!-/2014/03/25/773/n/1922283/f67a25a123ea766d_dirtydancing/i/DONT-worry-about-making-mistake-every-once-while.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Dirty Dancing GIF from Popsugar" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">(May or may not have watched this movie before writing this post.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Catch me on the dance floor, yo.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-56334810497525941422019-01-25T19:23:00.000-05:002019-05-17T08:18:02.105-04:00Things I Left in 2018If you read my <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/2019/01/new-year-new-words.html" target="_blank">New Year's Not-Resolutions post</a>, you know that one of my big goals for 2019 is to do more things that "fill my cup."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for coffee gif" height="320" src="https://i.gifer.com/Fuqo.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My metaphorical cup is a cup of coffee, obvs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In plain English, this means doing more things that make me feel fulfilled. Things like skydiving and reading and rock climbing and traveling, for example.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Something just as important as filling my cup is minimizing the "drains on my cup." This is different from "pouring from my cup," AKA giving (which I want to do more of). Things that drain my cup are my stressors, which empty my cup before I have a chance to pour from it.<br />
<br />
In order for me to let in all the good stuff that 2019 has in store for me, I need to let go of some ish that has held me back in previous years.<br />
<br />
So without further ado, here is a list of things that I'm leaving in 2018:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
1. <b>Beating myself up over things I can't change. </b>I'm not the most socially adept individual, and I'm often haunted by things that I say or do that I realize were awkward/uncomfortable/wrong. They replay in my brain, a sort of low-lights reel of my real (and imagined) faux pas. Bigger things also haunt me, like times that I've hurt people (whether I meant to or not) and bad decisions that I've made, knowing even as I made them that I would regret it. Memories of these moments swirl around in my brain even years after the fact, and they'll consume me if I let them. I can't go back in time and change what I said or did. And even if I could, I wouldn't. Those moments helped shape me into who I am today. But I'm done being held hostage by them. When these thoughts begin to invade, I've begun taking a deep inhale and letting the thoughts sit for just a moment, and then as I exhale, I consciously think (or say aloud) one of two things. For the little things, it's "Let that shit go." And for the big ones: "I forgive me." And then I move on. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
2. <b>Making excuses for myself. </b>Self-love is so so important. I have to take care of me before I can take care of anybody else. Sometimes self-love for me is realizing that I'm so completely burned out by my workday that I just need to go home and relax with some Doritos and a book. Other times my self-love looks more like tough love, because yes, I'm tired at the end of my long hard school day, but this is the kind of tired that is best remedied by a good solid sweat sesh, so I'm going to make myself go to the gym anyway. I'm holding myself accountable for doing what I truly need to do, and a huge part of that is not letting myself make excuses to get out of it. I've realized that no one else is going to call me out on my bullshit; it's up to me to do that. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
3. <b>Defeatist mentality. </b>This world is an effed up place with a capital F. (I think we can all agree on that.) But when I let myself dwell on that reality, I get overwhelmed by a crippling feeling of "What's the point in trying? I can't make a difference with all that's wrong in the world." That's bullshit, and I'm calling myself on it. The small amount of difference that I<i> am</i> able to make will compound with all of the small differences that other people are making and create a big difference. I have to consciously try to see the positivity and the hope that exist in this world alongside and in spite of all the shit. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
4. <b>People who don't value/respect me.</b> People who don't respect me and my worth make me question my own value and doubt myself. Ain't nobody got time for that.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for and that's all i have to say about that" height="304" src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/42/f3/c2/42f3c297041f68df59c1a3643da43f85--forrest-gump-life-lessons.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
5. <b>People who bring out the worst in me.</b> (This kind of goes with #4.) I'm on a quest to become a better version of myself, and being around certain people makes it too easy to slip into old habits (or new bad habits). It's not necessarily their fault, but--hard as it may be--I need to say goodbye to those people in order to continue growing. I need to surround myself with people who want to see me become my best self, and who encourage me to do so. </blockquote>
</div>
<div>
None of this comes easily, but it's especially hard for me to cut ties with the people that I mentioned in #4 and #5 because most of the time, they are people whom I at one time wanted in my life; they have been important to me. Many of the people who are no longer "good for me" were once good friends, and since I'm not very good at making friends to begin with, I think that I probably held on to some of those people longer than I should have out of fear of being lonely.<br />
<br />
But ya know what? It's time. I've got to make space for all the awesome people coming to me in 2019. (Including Jess 2.0!)<br />
<br />
To each and every one of the people I'm saying goodbye to: thank you for coming into my life, and for the part you have played in making me the person who I am today. I wish you all the best--I truly mean that. If I see ya around, I'll still have a smile for ya. 😉<br />
<br />
And hey, a sincere and heartfelt thank you to those of you in my life who do inspire and encourage me to be a better version of myself. You know who you are. (Or I'll tell ya soon enough. 😘)<br />
<br />
I'm a work in progress...sometimes I find the things that I said "good riddance" to at the end of 2018 trying to creep into 2019. So I just keep reminding myself...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Let that shit go.</i> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
#mantra2019</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
($1.25 in the swear jar, if you're keeping track at home.) </div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-7868775070665551592019-01-05T14:20:00.002-05:002020-12-29T12:52:34.425-05:00New Year, New WordsIn case you haven't noticed, I'm not the greatest at following through on things.<br />
<br />
I never got around to writing about the last month or so of my <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/search/label/Europe%202016" target="_blank">Europe 2016</a> trip, nor did I ever post about the last few cities I visited on <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/search/label/Summer%202018" target="_blank">my Italian adventure</a> over the summer. And just two months ago in <a href="https://averageadventuress.blogspot.com/2018/11/a-prologue-and-plea-for-ideas.html" target="_blank">November</a>, I promised to post twice a month on this here blog.<br />
<br />
Yeah...that didn't happen.<br />
<br />
This is the part where I say that one of my 2019 New Year's Resolutions™ is to follow through on my promises, to finish what I start, and to fulfill each and every one of my commitments!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://thumbs.gfycat.com/CriminalKaleidoscopicAmericanbadger-size_restricted.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(At least not this year.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For one thing, I've decided that New Year's Resolutions don't work for me. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Part of the reason is that it's way too much pressure. Every time that I have resolved to do something starting January 1st--whether it's don't eat junk food, exercise 6 days a week, or journal every day--I've fallen off the wagon by Groundhog Day and then written off the rest of the year. ("Oh well. I tried. I'll try again next year.") With New Year's Resolutions, I tend to get into the mindset of "I have to get it perfect from the get-go." There's no room for making mistakes, for starting over, for growing and making progress. It's all or nothing, and that just isn't a sustainable way of thinking.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The other reason is that the whole big, grand "New Year's Resolution" title steals significance from all of the other goals that I've made and achieved in other parts of the year. I don't just make goals in January; I'm constantly striving to become the person that I want to be. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So this year, I've rebranded, and am working on my Goals for 2019. AKA my 2019 Intentions. AKA, the things that I'm going to make happen this year. (They have many names.)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm being more intentional, and defining both the big, overarching themes of things that I want to work on, as well as the smaller things that I can change in order to make that happen. I'm expecting to make mistakes, and I'm also expecting to make growth. Each month, each week, each day is a chance to start working on a new small step that will bring me closer to my overall goals, or to start over, as needed. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So without further ado, here are Jess's 2019 Intentions: </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<ol>
<li><b>Fill my cup. </b>As a teacher, one of the metaphors that you hear a lot is "You can't pour from an empty cup." It basically translates to "Make sure you take care of yourself, so you can take care of the kids." </li>
<ul>
<li>This year I will try to be more fearless about doing things that fill my cup. I will try not to be intimidated by putting myself out there in the course of trying new things. </li>
<li>Examples of things that make me feel fulfilled: learning (just for the heck of it), climbing (I want to do some outdoor climbing this year), traveling (obviously. But this year, fewer cities and more nature), and reading (instead of mindlessly bingewatching). And more!</li>
</ul>
<li><b>Pour from my cup. </b>The whole point of filling your cup is so that you can use what's in you to help fill others' cups. </li>
<ul>
<li>I'm a selfish person. I know this, and rather than getting defensive and denying it (as I have in the past), I'm accepting it and trying to work on it. </li>
<li><u>Baby Step #1:</u> Actively trying to think more of others. I tend to be fairly oblivious to anything outside of my own needs and desires. I am going to begin consciously trying to look beyond myself in order to see others' wants and needs. </li>
<li><u>Baby Step #2:</u> Once my eyes are opened to others and their needs, I can begin "inconveniencing" myself in order to help others. I say "inconvenience" because I need to help others with no expectation of getting anything myself (otherwise, it's still selfish). Instead of thinking "Why should I help them? They haven't done anything for me," I will think "Why should I help them? Because I can see that they could use some help, and because I am capable of offering help," or "Why should I do this for them? Because it will make them happy."</li>
<li><u>Added Bonus:</u> doing things for other human beings will help keep me from getting wrapped up in and swallowed by my own shiznit.</li>
</ul>
<li><b>Get on top of my finances. </b>This one is a little more concrete. I have been somewhat negligent with my finances; and while I'm not in a bad position financially, I am finding that I don't have the money to do some of the things that I want to do. This year, I will be more proactive and intentional with my money, which will give me greater freedom to do things that fill my cup, and will prevent my finances from becoming a stressor. </li>
<ul>
<li>I'd like to start working towards larger, longer-term financial goals, such as buying a new car (since my car's transmission is turning out to be a potentially very expensive and unpredictable hunk of junk). </li>
<li>I've already started working on my financial goal. A high school track teammate recently shared <a href="https://wrachelwrites.com/" target="_blank">her personal finance blog</a> on social media, and I've found it very helpful. </li>
</ul>
</ol>
So there you have it, folks. New year, same me. And by "same me" I mean "constantly trying to be a better me."<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Happy New Year.<br />
<br />
<div>
(I would say "new post coming soon," but we all know how that'll go. 🤣)</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-9693787651060117002018-11-18T09:16:00.004-05:002020-12-28T16:45:31.129-05:00A Prologue and a Plea for Ideas<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The shrill screech shattered the tense silence induced by the division quiz in room 210. Necks cricked and pencils hit the floor as the collective focus of twenty-six 9-year-olds was completely diverted to the back left corner of the room. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
It was impossible to tell which of the four students seated at table 3 had uttered such a shriek; each face wore an identical look of shock, and as any elementary school teacher will tell you, pre-pubescent boys are just as prone to high-pitched screams as girls. </blockquote>
Strong start, right? I'm happy with it.<br />
<br />
The problem is, the first couple of sentences sprang into my head fully-formed, and the rest of the story hasn't followed. So anyone reading this is invited to throw some ideas my way...I'll keep working on this piece, but I wanted to get down what I had so far because ya girl was in the mood to write this morning!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-9514469466169847862018-11-11T11:48:00.003-05:002020-12-29T12:53:17.053-05:00A Bit of a Brain Dump and a Resolution<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
</div>
Hi. I know I kind of dropped off the face of the blogiverse...sorry. The school year started, over two months ago, actually, and life got busy.<br />
<br />
...I know. Excuses, excuses.<br />
<br />
I don't really have any new content to share today, travel-wise anyway, but I wanted to write something anyway.<br />
<br />
See, I've been watching Jane the Virgin. It's my guilty-pleasure TV show. But I don't have to justify that to you. I enjoy watching it and that's all that really matters.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://thumbpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/cool-minion-perfect-awesome-quote-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Related image" border="0" height="400" src="https://thumbpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/cool-minion-perfect-awesome-quote-1.jpg" width="279" /></a></div>
I'll be the first to admit that it's not the greatest TV show out there--it's basically a telenovela with some comedic aspects--but the thing about the show that's really been sticking with me even after I log off Netflix isn't all the dramatic happenings of the show (which have included love triangles, secret identical twins, and numerous other soap-opera clichés). In fact, the thing that's been sticking with me probably the least exciting aspect of this show.<br />
<br />
Jane is a writer. And she just doesn't stop writing. She's a single mom, and a student, and her life is a complete and utter mess 95% of the time. But still, she always finds the time to write, because it's what she loves.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Image result for jane the virgin writing gif" height="261" src="https://media.giphy.com/media/m93TmHHM5P584/200.gif" width="400" /></div>
I love to write. Always have. But I haven't been making time for it. And what I'm learning now that I'm adulting full-time is that you're never going to find time for anything. You have to make time for the things that matter to you. And writing does matter to me; that's one of the reasons why I started this blog.<br />
<br />
So this is me resolving to make time for my writing. I'm publishing this post because it'll help me hold myself accountable.<br />
<br />
I'm starting small; just two posts a month. No promises about what the content might be...could be flashbacks to my travels or funny teaching stories, could be poetry or prose, fiction or non-fiction.<br />
<br />
If that doesn't interest you, no hard feelings. I'm doing this for me.<br />
<br />
That being said, I would welcome any constructive feedback y'all would care to offer. But if you're just down to read and not comment, or not read and not comment, that's fine too.<br />
<br />
Anyway. That's all for now...thanks for reading this post.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Image result for see you later gif" height="240" src="https://i.gifer.com/C5JI.gif" width="320" /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-20261269153481313822018-08-16T23:23:00.000-04:002018-08-16T23:23:09.175-04:00Cinque Terre è BellissimoHere's what you need to know about Cinque Terre (or at least what I knew before I went there):<br />
<ul>
<li>It's freaking gorgeous.</li>
<li>Cinque Terre is a collection of five fishing villages that have since become adorable beach towns: Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomaggiore.</li>
<li>All five villages are connected by trains and by hiking trails. Cars are all but outlawed, which makes sense, considering that the vast majority of the "streets" in Cinque Terre look like this:</li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijxuU2_AaK671ilxzcYjgdqcnrg5miKrlNb_MrVv8LS9GcH-fw_PBlmJB9IBx1aIogF6_Cji3loA1TgMWjS5FooqefzcAfeNQ1mhAknTKa4G5T4Ne4AWw7pfvTfR-6ht_yltLok_j_7axe/s1600/20180712_171938.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijxuU2_AaK671ilxzcYjgdqcnrg5miKrlNb_MrVv8LS9GcH-fw_PBlmJB9IBx1aIogF6_Cji3loA1TgMWjS5FooqefzcAfeNQ1mhAknTKa4G5T4Ne4AWw7pfvTfR-6ht_yltLok_j_7axe/s400/20180712_171938.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>The towns are along a very cliff-like coastline, which means incredible views of the Tyrrhenian Sea. It also means rather steep streets and hiking trails. </li>
</ul>
I don't remember the first time that I heard of Cinque Terre, but I do remember that as soon as I saw pictures of the string of 5 colorful seaside towns along the Italian Riviera, I knew I HAD to go there.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJr7SpwEupArWaoDLtwOkmOgEQYaNj_eLr2UeoqlcZCyxMEhVeNosZQe37pw18p1o1co1skBzRrWoIIAIluBKKEXaHlckIiKnAiJwNcQCw2WsuMTgo36eLBr_xHJxtOPKRhPZOItjU18i_/s1600/20180712_175306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJr7SpwEupArWaoDLtwOkmOgEQYaNj_eLr2UeoqlcZCyxMEhVeNosZQe37pw18p1o1co1skBzRrWoIIAIluBKKEXaHlckIiKnAiJwNcQCw2WsuMTgo36eLBr_xHJxtOPKRhPZOItjU18i_/s400/20180712_175306.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">I mean, just look at it!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So after one last cappuccino in Rome, Lauren and I parted ways at the train station; she heading northeast to Parma, and me heading northwest to Cinque Terre.<br />
<ul></ul>
After a very scenic train ride along the coast, I arrived in Vernazza, the 2nd-northernmost of the five towns in Cinque Terre. My Airbnb host met me at the train station and showed me to the cutest little room that was to be my home base for the next two nights.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="309" src="https://a0.muscache.com/im/pictures/726cd280-cd1f-45a7-ab22-e7f84b551bc4.jpg?aki_policy=x_large" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Most adorable Airbnb yet!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Vernazza is a teeny little beach town; the main road leads right from the train station to the small beach, which doubles as the town's harbor. I spent most of the afternoon wandering up and down the streets, just getting oriented to the town and snagging some spectacular views before hitting the beach to soak up some sun.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
It was really starting to feel like I was on vacation.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvsoz7SM05Nz7vw3LxPWykVUDdWJd7GkUdc8Hrq0HGJ3_suwChA_vZe82VBrKuJbLn5ZNQH3Cq5Al1zsYa8UbMRq9sjF4sl8t5QQuIa8OhZiiQ_jsGsQINbbivRDPJksQkMc0sIabQ0EX/s1600/20180714_110205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvsoz7SM05Nz7vw3LxPWykVUDdWJd7GkUdc8Hrq0HGJ3_suwChA_vZe82VBrKuJbLn5ZNQH3Cq5Al1zsYa8UbMRq9sjF4sl8t5QQuIa8OhZiiQ_jsGsQINbbivRDPJksQkMc0sIabQ0EX/s400/20180714_110205.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
I'm sure it will come as no surprise to you that I squeezed in two trips to the gelato shop before calling it a night.<br />
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The next day, I got an early start, and after a cappuccino and Nutella croissant--man, I could go for another one of those right about now--I headed south out of town along the hiking trail to Corniglia.<br />
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What should probably have only taken me an hour and a half turned out to be about a two hour hike, because I kept stopping to take in the mind-bogglingly beautiful views:<br />
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Eventually, I made it to Corniglia, where I cooled off--you guessed it--with some gelato as I meandered along the winding streets.<br />
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It was in Corniglia that I first discovered the appeal of the rocky beach. After following a very steep set of stone steps, I arrived here: </div>
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SO. FREAKING> GORGEOUS.<br />
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Anyway. Major advantages of rocky beaches include:</div>
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<ol>
<li>Less crowded.</li>
<li>Sand doesn't get all up in yo bidness. </li>
<li>The water is so flipping clear (no sand clouding it up). </li>
<li>The aforementioned sand doesn't get all in your stuff. </li>
<li>Way more interesting scenery; watching waves hit rocks is way better than watching waves hit the same smooth stretch of sand over and over again. </li>
<li>No sand to stick all over you and your shiznit. (Have I mentioned this already?)</li>
</ol>
Being the dingus that I am, I didn't have my swimsuit in my daypack; I'd dressed for a day of hiking without considering the possibility of getting in the water. (I know, I know....like I said: dingus.) </div>
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I consoled myself with some more gelato before heading south out of Corniglia toward Manarola, only to find that the trail was closed for maintenance. (Apparently there had been some flooding earlier in the year, and the trails from Corniglia to Manarola and from Manarola to Riomaggiore were both closed.)</div>
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I chose to interpret it as a sign from the universe to head back north, and after a brief stop back at my Airbnb in Vernazza to grab my swimsuit--see? I can learn from my mistakes!--I hiked an hour and a half north to Monterosso. </div>
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I was almost to the town when I spotted a side path down toward the water. I say "side path." It was really more of a trace of a trail along a foot-wide ledge. </div>
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I'm all about following whims when I travel, so I (very carefully) edged my way along the path until I arrived here: </div>
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I spread out my towel on a large rock before scooching into the clearest water I've ever swam in outside of a swimming pool. After about an hour of soaking up the sun and sea, I watched as two guys climbed up to a ledge about 20 feet above a cave. After they spent 5 minutes debating how deep the water below them was, one of them belly-flopped off the ledge into the water. The other guy followed with a little more technique.<br />
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You already know this adrenaline junkie was next off that ledge.<br />
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It wasn't quite high enough for me to check cliff-jumping off my bucket list, but it was still pretty dang fun!<br />
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As the sun started to set, I toweled off and headed into the town of Monterosso in search of dinner.<br />
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I forgot to take a picture of my asparagus risotto (I was so hungry it was gone before it occurred to me to Instagram that shiz), but take my word for it, it was pretty darn tasty. A couple of glasses of wine later, I headed for the train back to Vernazza, stopping along the way for some gelato at a shop that was blasting 80's music.<br />
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I caught several of my fellow passengers eyeing my pistachio and dark chocolate cone jealously on the train.<br />
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On my last morning in Vernazza, I spent most of the morning lingering over a cappuccino and croissant with a view of the harbor, before catching my train to Venice. <br />
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Cinque Terre, I'll be back! And until then, you'll be on my mind.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-34303552143526725692018-07-30T15:45:00.001-04:002018-07-30T15:47:24.594-04:00When in Rome...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If you talked to me at all before I left the States, you probably laughed when I told you that my basic itinerary for my Italian adventure was to consume as much gelato, pasta, and pizza as was humanly possible.<br />
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Joke's on you because that's exactly what I did.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, every day I was in Italy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My trip to Italy began with a quiet train ride to Newark Airport and an astonishingly quick and painless jaunt through security. My spirits sagged a bit when I realized that I'd forgotten my snacks and would have to shell out for outrageously overpriced food in the airport to keep from getting hangry on my 8-hour flight. My mood was not improved by the airport fire alarm going off right as I was getting in line to board my flight.<br />
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Despite the inauspicious beginning of the flight, I did manage to grab a couple of hours of light sleep on the plane, but I was still a tad cranky in the passport control line the next day. The police officer who checked my passport must not have slept much the previous night either, because he didn't say a word to me, just stamped my passport and sent me on my way. But he stamped it, and that's what matters. One short train ride later, I was officially in Rome!<br />
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As soon as I arrived, I met up with my friend Lauren and checked into the hostel. I just dropped off my backpack before we headed right back out again; I'd booked on to a free walking tour for the evening in the hopes that an informative walk around the city would keep me from succumbing to the jet lag. When we arrived at the Spanish Steps at 4:55, however, we found that our 5:00 tour had left at 4:50. <br />
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Lauren and I chalked it up to divine intervention and set off in search of gelato. <br />
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We meandered aimlessly through the city with our cones until we found ourselves at the Tiber River. As we crossed a bridge, Lauren and I spotted some sort of festival setting up in tents along the water. Naturally, we had to check that out. We discovered that there were quite a few temporary restaurants with tables set up right on the water. So we parked ourselves at a table with a nice breeze and a pleasant view of what we decided was either a very rich person's house or a fancy hotel. (It turned out to be a hospital.)<br />
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At 6:30 in the evening, it was far too early for dinner by Roman standards, but most of the restaurants were serving drinks and appetizers. Lauren and I ordered some fried calamari and shrimp to go with our virgin cocktails (having decided that alcohol + jet-lag would be a bad combination), and lingered until the dinner crowd began to arrive. <br />
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We had a long walk back to our hostel, and decided upon our arrival that we had earned another gelato. Lauren took me to La Romana, a gelato place a couple of blocks from our hostel, where I ordered a chocolate-filled cone with dark chocolate and coffee flavored gelato. YUM. I also sampled Lauren's salted pistachio gelato, which opened up a whole new world for me. Double YUM.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq9XojGhdZEpuQGX-kVMM6ouAZeu0TbY6f8WlK7abcWmRd1ekmlJ_RvhD0IG3MjjPW1FM6c_STUfTvXsGaN13PBw7Cv56lbm8CGrljzauX5jXexMylggmqOlrbQr_2dmADvy7i4a_I1Gog/s1600/IMG_20180709_154431_856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq9XojGhdZEpuQGX-kVMM6ouAZeu0TbY6f8WlK7abcWmRd1ekmlJ_RvhD0IG3MjjPW1FM6c_STUfTvXsGaN13PBw7Cv56lbm8CGrljzauX5jXexMylggmqOlrbQr_2dmADvy7i4a_I1Gog/s400/IMG_20180709_154431_856.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
After a solid 40 winks to shake off the jet-lag, it was time for attempt #2 of the Rome free walking tour. We arrived at the Spanish Steps, the meeting place for the start of the tour only to find that our tour guide was sick and that the tour would be delayed in leaving until a replacement tour guide arrived. We should've heeded this obvious sign from the universe, because the tour guide who turned up 45 minutes later delivered a rather snooze-worthy tour of about 5 square blocks of the city.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTmO-gLaB0COSnxPBwjr0PTwW4dZnPYowzwiD7Ec4I7NomhjS6XsNArURTj2bcYTfGgDwX7QUAILO2o6nMg1qLpZn-J828m_-RYtH6h4cpdodjWbbO4CEFjN7bWpSBRS5eXMSAVYJyPn6/s1600/20180710_094247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTmO-gLaB0COSnxPBwjr0PTwW4dZnPYowzwiD7Ec4I7NomhjS6XsNArURTj2bcYTfGgDwX7QUAILO2o6nMg1qLpZn-J828m_-RYtH6h4cpdodjWbbO4CEFjN7bWpSBRS5eXMSAVYJyPn6/s400/20180710_094247.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Way more excited for more gelato than for the walking tour.</td></tr>
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The one thing that was kind of cool was realizing that a lot of Rome's history is literally buried underneath the city; Ancient Rome was about 20 feet lower than modern Rome. This is why Rome only has 2 subway lines...every time they try to make a new one, they run into something of archaeological/historical value and have to rework the route.<br />
<br />
Near the end of the tour, we split off from the rest of the group (who were Vatican-bound), and made our way into Castel Sant Angelo, where we found spectacular views of the city and no crowds.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGXWR5XzqFOYeVaQeYQRGEhRSShnV7dawXLctaqsVdIpExf7unyukuK9nxaxveMEu7W5MTqPYlFqp31DJLvK1a6_lo30DaroF2gh-KucyklbaJq-Vl1MIMVTlHVbHKGbI-9vlhdGFytBK-/s1600/20180710_135211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGXWR5XzqFOYeVaQeYQRGEhRSShnV7dawXLctaqsVdIpExf7unyukuK9nxaxveMEu7W5MTqPYlFqp31DJLvK1a6_lo30DaroF2gh-KucyklbaJq-Vl1MIMVTlHVbHKGbI-9vlhdGFytBK-/s400/20180710_135211.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdfTM1BrGiGmB8uGN-AMVrtrB8pyIVj4K3i-Q66Qu9lM01whZH6oOi7YJ-jyGZRDWGre5C7mndf0a8g53PhxKkUAOnpBw6BMhydRzvQAQIj6bJ3Vvn7fcmLj57eq_-3ujRjiyh2i2lj7pZ/s1600/20180710_135133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdfTM1BrGiGmB8uGN-AMVrtrB8pyIVj4K3i-Q66Qu9lM01whZH6oOi7YJ-jyGZRDWGre5C7mndf0a8g53PhxKkUAOnpBw6BMhydRzvQAQIj6bJ3Vvn7fcmLj57eq_-3ujRjiyh2i2lj7pZ/s400/20180710_135133.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHD0PCW-gIaIdsB6Q4R6jj9C71kFNV07RG_CbVNifgax85m7tNfoq6jTnd6LR3FSabiJqN28duMAYF3IdiroxnpSFHpL_GxuR_txdLEC-TSslt5-6g925tmYPFeNqNtlCcvs_aw1MQj5Xq/s1600/20180710_134108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHD0PCW-gIaIdsB6Q4R6jj9C71kFNV07RG_CbVNifgax85m7tNfoq6jTnd6LR3FSabiJqN28duMAYF3IdiroxnpSFHpL_GxuR_txdLEC-TSslt5-6g925tmYPFeNqNtlCcvs_aw1MQj5Xq/s400/20180710_134108.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo-bombed by a seagull...sigh. </td></tr>
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We stopped by Vatican Square on our way to Trastevere neighborhood, just so we could say, "We went to the Vatican," and after a long and slightly sketchy walk along roads that were clearly not meant for pedestrians, let alone stupid American tourists like us--thanks, Google Maps--we stumbled upon the perfect place for a late lunch.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivru44HW8znpC09GzzEH0J_erLuGwC_dYHjXCShexeoaI3wedhUXSnZqpBZKJ97of-GgBMLm9Hl-QOy4ssX2eNI8-0-kuzHo9XZnUaRQMXYOCUCnfqqCzPWHIq4v67Rwhsn2R9eJbB-oAh/s1600/20180710_153719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivru44HW8znpC09GzzEH0J_erLuGwC_dYHjXCShexeoaI3wedhUXSnZqpBZKJ97of-GgBMLm9Hl-QOy4ssX2eNI8-0-kuzHo9XZnUaRQMXYOCUCnfqqCzPWHIq4v67Rwhsn2R9eJbB-oAh/s400/20180710_153719.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fried artichoke appetizer</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfBAJp_w7u6NRTei5Xge8HZSCP2oBwFY_A-2PvHYhjZNKlaJXqysrHzu65uIme9HFeVSjAoa98yRdothw7lFnu3S3I-EO6HVn8d_dbSLGrg-7yOyCnmlJJW4hsBTvNGKrD0vPXYDznbmH/s1600/20180710_154607.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfBAJp_w7u6NRTei5Xge8HZSCP2oBwFY_A-2PvHYhjZNKlaJXqysrHzu65uIme9HFeVSjAoa98yRdothw7lFnu3S3I-EO6HVn8d_dbSLGrg-7yOyCnmlJJW4hsBTvNGKrD0vPXYDznbmH/s400/20180710_154607.jpg" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seafood risotto (feat. Laruen's elbows as she Instagrams her food)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9HkZdYyYagPIffcEK_JnMzh6J-veixAenRuwwvja00jsHBP94XxZJHxZ-eDBpWFf7a0XD571amvBkvNIwvbdhwDklt-H3qel6lP55S6nZKxN9InFe_tpHoZHXPx4N7Tuz__gITr0j1V8/s1600/IMG-20180710-WA0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9HkZdYyYagPIffcEK_JnMzh6J-veixAenRuwwvja00jsHBP94XxZJHxZ-eDBpWFf7a0XD571amvBkvNIwvbdhwDklt-H3qel6lP55S6nZKxN9InFe_tpHoZHXPx4N7Tuz__gITr0j1V8/s400/IMG-20180710-WA0001.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lauren's shrimp and lemon linguine (feat. my elbows as I Instagram my food)</td></tr>
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We meandered back in the general direction of our hostel, keeping our eyes peeled for a likely location to catch the World Cup semifinal game between France and Belgium. And (of course) we stopped for gelato along the way.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi23lPMz9MGiimiOVYw67pqa-Ce5cRspFVy0hRl4oa3kt0P9KW0kNXy1moLlJ77idq0geodf1967idxCzPoSwUyzLlAcXnepWUSD0H1GdoLoGbG6Wl0FTY-1c0dOmL5LK16QKzI0kxrnctT/s1600/IMG_20180710_182240_925+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi23lPMz9MGiimiOVYw67pqa-Ce5cRspFVy0hRl4oa3kt0P9KW0kNXy1moLlJ77idq0geodf1967idxCzPoSwUyzLlAcXnepWUSD0H1GdoLoGbG6Wl0FTY-1c0dOmL5LK16QKzI0kxrnctT/s400/IMG_20180710_182240_925+%25281%2529.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
The next day, I took a day trip to see Pompeii and Mt. Vesuvius. It was a three-ish hour bus ride from Rome, but I made friends with a fellow American elementary school teacher, which helped pass the time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWTIOU3nrh8jBWdj4hy4DP8n9zzj3oJ5iQzsFVTiafbsCs1d-Vgf4aAfsPkZVg9TIRjAThavitijJXRr8hQ47jRXf2odKQugQJyg5z13Cq0L_edutqwPp4YYTtzFHEeam93NKl2Vt1xhZ/s1600/180712_121343_0.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWTIOU3nrh8jBWdj4hy4DP8n9zzj3oJ5iQzsFVTiafbsCs1d-Vgf4aAfsPkZVg9TIRjAThavitijJXRr8hQ47jRXf2odKQugQJyg5z13Cq0L_edutqwPp4YYTtzFHEeam93NKl2Vt1xhZ/s400/180712_121343_0.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#teacherswhotravel</td></tr>
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The ruins were super interesting, and way more extensive than I'd expected. Pompeii wasn't just some small town; it was a full-blown city, with restaurants and spas and crosswalks and everything...featuring a big ol' volcano as part of its skyline.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjubJy0UdGSUt4wjWO80bOBqDWGnCXPSwwG5wWQ2EXTiVjSSjhKgHD4tlWFdyIIqEH5FOkicPSL6qlNNFOTMoGG58ijdYzTj25LJeq0M9BWPDUU8Y_Nwf_q8oxWSgdA6zth5NKLJKSid81v/s1600/20180711_123833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjubJy0UdGSUt4wjWO80bOBqDWGnCXPSwwG5wWQ2EXTiVjSSjhKgHD4tlWFdyIIqEH5FOkicPSL6qlNNFOTMoGG58ijdYzTj25LJeq0M9BWPDUU8Y_Nwf_q8oxWSgdA6zth5NKLJKSid81v/s400/20180711_123833.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0NK0IrWcjV9b18BE_GTEWPHZZPCKx4KfPP3BDCmwlvaATZkuOF0Z0p2oa4ogFeB93IXqN24lmrBG_BlYUN6mB-zGzEx96QLkD5p9Z-w8xDZLleGJ5fj1ZAqIcFptLOoqL_kdOQRizxO1/s1600/20180711_121047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0NK0IrWcjV9b18BE_GTEWPHZZPCKx4KfPP3BDCmwlvaATZkuOF0Z0p2oa4ogFeB93IXqN24lmrBG_BlYUN6mB-zGzEx96QLkD5p9Z-w8xDZLleGJ5fj1ZAqIcFptLOoqL_kdOQRizxO1/s400/20180711_121047.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the famous Pompeiian frescoes. <br />
Apparently, many of the frescoes from Pompeii are extremely erotic, <br />
which is why the city was reburied after its original discovery in 1599. <br />
The frescoes have been in and out of museum exhibits <br />
since the city's rediscovery in the 18th century. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW1K7m6wnejW3KqDGp7_PBa5krf1dhpOOziKgxpDQMz2c7DV1pL89hcQLptKWDWN3bJ6iwp6vtaI_XnYmtOGqvnO4k3kDffNduFcyYPczH2hyphenhyphenLkQ5keX9CxrR4h_xUQEthyphenhyphenpV7fHQz2K9s/s1600/20180711_123310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW1K7m6wnejW3KqDGp7_PBa5krf1dhpOOziKgxpDQMz2c7DV1pL89hcQLptKWDWN3bJ6iwp6vtaI_XnYmtOGqvnO4k3kDffNduFcyYPczH2hyphenhyphenLkQ5keX9CxrR4h_xUQEthyphenhyphenpV7fHQz2K9s/s400/20180711_123310.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Archaeologists are still at work excavating Pompeii, as they have been since the mid-1700s. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYK-YdKAQHnTRfZETUoslJOqIEA9_UN7q5VsaMfdQI8vPJFpqogAnGvANJwgUuon7j4aqZSPWDTOeDb4VEgR5MhjRxqvFPs2Ax4K78VpFUftHXGWDic4jsoMfyiEW3uszNtKeiexn279g_/s1600/20180711_114701.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYK-YdKAQHnTRfZETUoslJOqIEA9_UN7q5VsaMfdQI8vPJFpqogAnGvANJwgUuon7j4aqZSPWDTOeDb4VEgR5MhjRxqvFPs2Ax4K78VpFUftHXGWDic4jsoMfyiEW3uszNtKeiexn279g_/s400/20180711_114701.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bet you thought I was joking about the crosswalks.<br />
Well, when the streets double as sewers, you've got to get creative!</td></tr>
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Fun fact: the arena in Pompeii has been a concert venue since 1972. (Obviously it was used for performances before Vesuvius blew its top, but you know what I mean.) The first band to perform there? Pink Floyd.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS3l5h0lXpYB8n5J1WYfAaw4XFbFijC9I0m6ij8NZZ5xjouVCvK" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Image result for pompeii concert" border="0" height="400" src="https://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS3l5h0lXpYB8n5J1WYfAaw4XFbFijC9I0m6ij8NZZ5xjouVCvK" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's a documentary about it and everything.</td></tr>
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After the tour of the ruins, it was time for lunch: pizza. The real deal.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZA7QzvpkhQwuqIOyK9doM2NHyQsJUMug3-fPT3LUfTRcOsOv27GY_BaAS3JHaZR37HVpek00xZB81O4hM08UCgV-IDuUSccbbipAsyPEjhS9QGKlxnWui4k3R1IKwLnZLYTTIENqZWRSB/s1600/20180711_134007+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZA7QzvpkhQwuqIOyK9doM2NHyQsJUMug3-fPT3LUfTRcOsOv27GY_BaAS3JHaZR37HVpek00xZB81O4hM08UCgV-IDuUSccbbipAsyPEjhS9QGKlxnWui4k3R1IKwLnZLYTTIENqZWRSB/s400/20180711_134007+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">oh HECK YES</td></tr>
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The concept of putting things on bread has been around basically as long as there has been bread, but modern pizza was invented in Naples in the 1800s. Margherita pizza (tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil) was actually named after the Queen of Italy at the time.<br />
<br />
Another fun fact for ya: Europeans thought that tomatoes were poisonous for a long time after the fruits (or are the vegetables? 😆) first made their way over from the Americas. It took someone very brave--or maybe just very very hungry--to be the first to eat one, proving that they were not in fact deadly.<br />
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Anywho, after enjoying the bejesus out of my real Italian pizza, I was sufficiently carboloaded for a trek up Mt. Vesuvius.<br />
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Mt. Vesuvius is still an active volcano; it erupted most recently in 1944. However, my tour guide assured me that Vesuvius was "probably not going to erupt today." Very comforting.<br />
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Being the dingus that I am, I was wearing sandals that day; luckily they were sporty sandals I'd bought from REI, and they were more than up for the job of conquering a volcano. I tripped a fair bit on the hike, but I don't blame my footwear; I chalk that up to looking at the scenery instead of watching my feet. Can you blame me?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbFebQE_fzsEZDle02usCYfpAbLUsRDucFZNzDQ-z50bEVuMIPdkE9r5YKbZDU20_N5Aa3WIyoAw5VbN9Hujyt_Dp_GpTe0CHv7xsNEebAeX6Yo_B0SVYcLLNwUFEbcIDP_0uyVYN1z1sY/s1600/20180711_152934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbFebQE_fzsEZDle02usCYfpAbLUsRDucFZNzDQ-z50bEVuMIPdkE9r5YKbZDU20_N5Aa3WIyoAw5VbN9Hujyt_Dp_GpTe0CHv7xsNEebAeX6Yo_B0SVYcLLNwUFEbcIDP_0uyVYN1z1sY/s400/20180711_152934.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The crater</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcrx2AlrZF231XlhwYHLk51JkZYSv3lHDEiog00jV3SSIoUw9TSxVq0imqPz18PM71jn7eL9LaaO_I9Dc67Q5HE2757Vc83YFbu4UzW2jAxDTlJFunBxToe9Ptlk92MoLTp3pedXloNeqZ/s1600/20180711_154019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcrx2AlrZF231XlhwYHLk51JkZYSv3lHDEiog00jV3SSIoUw9TSxVq0imqPz18PM71jn7eL9LaaO_I9Dc67Q5HE2757Vc83YFbu4UzW2jAxDTlJFunBxToe9Ptlk92MoLTp3pedXloNeqZ/s400/20180711_154019.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Naples!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When I arrived back in Rome a few hours later, my feet were still covered in volcanic ash, which didn't stop me from meeting Lauren at Mercado Centrale for dinner, and to catch the Croatia-England game.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvDGDfebWrAlRMYyQt9uFy3yYhW_sFkjAPWLZz1zGrVmTZd6_uLk9VHE-qzwyYKzAm1q5VOsJemPprmjrbV9HW4qFWcIOgthyJH2lk1swF2cDq9DGl6B928fzA-2qaKVCI83eL0gYfEcc/s1600/20180711_215359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvDGDfebWrAlRMYyQt9uFy3yYhW_sFkjAPWLZz1zGrVmTZd6_uLk9VHE-qzwyYKzAm1q5VOsJemPprmjrbV9HW4qFWcIOgthyJH2lk1swF2cDq9DGl6B928fzA-2qaKVCI83eL0gYfEcc/s400/20180711_215359.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dirty feet dirty feet dirty feet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Having worked up quite an appetite conquering a volcano, I felt no shame in stuffing my face with risotto balls, pasta, cannolis, and tiramisu while I watched Croatia's comeback win.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ecTHPLG84jEjZY-i1cPRUy2uJcXOXpb0QlgZv35ccHrk-NKexpXjRNEeOz9IvaEF4osmXizwnwVtwgbmZE45XWQx2DbPnAbcfP5ul8W_iWEtD6KrpHKMWPNwBJ770h3RXqEB04uxsO5L/s1600/20180711_205804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ecTHPLG84jEjZY-i1cPRUy2uJcXOXpb0QlgZv35ccHrk-NKexpXjRNEeOz9IvaEF4osmXizwnwVtwgbmZE45XWQx2DbPnAbcfP5ul8W_iWEtD6KrpHKMWPNwBJ770h3RXqEB04uxsO5L/s400/20180711_205804.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spaghetti with pecorino cheese and black pepper. Keep it simple. 👌</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY-w_LKjufRqdQxErEumfSPtPuSIB1Zn2uI5_Id5B3e7DkZEVUWYj0OMZZOQ2fjmV0cvzRdNsNNZGXiy6W-7GoPQBQAfxRv0a_AsovsUkCWk_EE0jLw5HP7RgzGVi-Bj3Wrz3EmY9aEVKC/s1600/20180711_213353%25280%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY-w_LKjufRqdQxErEumfSPtPuSIB1Zn2uI5_Id5B3e7DkZEVUWYj0OMZZOQ2fjmV0cvzRdNsNNZGXiy6W-7GoPQBQAfxRv0a_AsovsUkCWk_EE0jLw5HP7RgzGVi-Bj3Wrz3EmY9aEVKC/s400/20180711_213353%25280%2529.jpg" width="395" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiramisu! 😍</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The next day, it was time to say Arrivederci to Rome and to Lauren...I had to catch a train to Cinque Terre! </div>
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Did you get as hungry reading this blog post as I did writing it? </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for eating ice cream gif" src="https://media3.giphy.com/media/AGGz7y0rCYxdS/giphy.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, when I see gelato. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Veni, vidi, comedi. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I came, I saw, I ate. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-57194710922220583072018-07-02T12:38:00.001-04:002018-07-02T14:05:58.612-04:00In Which Jess Does Some Crazy Shiznit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
</div>
Well, since I last posted, I've been busy working on my bucket list. And as promised, I'm here to give you all the deets.<br />
<br />
On Thursday, I checked off "get a tattoo:"<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/IKMsDYd9C8yeTQTDYP4R9cmcbVS0DlBBgNSDCeQHXqS6dX6hRzvW6sTgBC95UyBpT9YTAHffIT5zL9oyK4PD5Kjq5dim0lfgtx9XXBWaTZ7g-bLIXaZZl9jMX_s92O2fp1afG8e2itY7iOqTsODeoXjMgNZDP3CIKK311ckT1OBtWbDu0kwnARiQJDZwMaMe_G-7oamAcye7zd5iU8rfV7HdECiWMLBZc2d8eL3kEWqZyhK_TfKYjB8J7cXEw28BDT6gq63rXTMQQD3FJlEH7FDYbn3b5d9aLuDgRw5k2VDl-5NeaoAQxLZgDI5UG4GvOUlXqCxGVCANoPBDJvd9Ty9Ps4kiK_JgYhDuMi5jt1vUG5CxaSZheX6ZwmDLrN5n1u5yW-Hn-Q_-5mzohG-CQ07f5zYd6_Ke87x4w31s5kgV2CUSSJp8w7Ek4mhhZlJX2MPS98Fhi7AwKo5DRtSmkItK3oDRnh_ZP4WIbchv8ifNzApnYxlBhrkqZpRsCjsOrJMAe6E4-VJakp_rPDy_x_EAypFPV4IyZngf0PPeZ_Zbmi8UCHjkOUjRWRfXjiQbmPL7pQIMvN8-rNStCwCAta86ep5E07dEHLwdr_4f=w565-h858-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/IKMsDYd9C8yeTQTDYP4R9cmcbVS0DlBBgNSDCeQHXqS6dX6hRzvW6sTgBC95UyBpT9YTAHffIT5zL9oyK4PD5Kjq5dim0lfgtx9XXBWaTZ7g-bLIXaZZl9jMX_s92O2fp1afG8e2itY7iOqTsODeoXjMgNZDP3CIKK311ckT1OBtWbDu0kwnARiQJDZwMaMe_G-7oamAcye7zd5iU8rfV7HdECiWMLBZc2d8eL3kEWqZyhK_TfKYjB8J7cXEw28BDT6gq63rXTMQQD3FJlEH7FDYbn3b5d9aLuDgRw5k2VDl-5NeaoAQxLZgDI5UG4GvOUlXqCxGVCANoPBDJvd9Ty9Ps4kiK_JgYhDuMi5jt1vUG5CxaSZheX6ZwmDLrN5n1u5yW-Hn-Q_-5mzohG-CQ07f5zYd6_Ke87x4w31s5kgV2CUSSJp8w7Ek4mhhZlJX2MPS98Fhi7AwKo5DRtSmkItK3oDRnh_ZP4WIbchv8ifNzApnYxlBhrkqZpRsCjsOrJMAe6E4-VJakp_rPDy_x_EAypFPV4IyZngf0PPeZ_Zbmi8UCHjkOUjRWRfXjiQbmPL7pQIMvN8-rNStCwCAta86ep5E07dEHLwdr_4f=w565-h858-no" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Extreme close-up.<br />
(~3 minutes post-tat)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Why dandelions, you ask? (Or, if you're my mother, just "why?")<br />
<br />
Well...<br />
<ol>
<li>Dandelions are tough and stubborn, like me. </li>
<li>Many people see dandelions as weeds, but to me, they've always been pretty flowers. My tattoo reminds me how much of a difference your mindset can make. </li>
<li>The day after I made my tattoo appointment, my students brought me dandelions at recess for the first time, which melted my cold dead heart and reminded me that, even though they drive me completely batty at times (read: pretty much ALL the time), they are still sweet little humans at heart and they do love me. Hopefully my tattoo will help me remember that in upcoming school years as well. </li>
</ol>
I've had this idea in my head for a while, and I'm so happy with how it turned out.<br />
<br />
I was pretty nervous when the time came, though. I mean--I don't know if you're aware---a tattoo is PERMANENT. Even though I was sure that it was what I wanted, when it was actually time to walk in the door and do it, I was SHAKY. But as soon as the stencil was on my body, and I could actually see the design right there on my skin, I relaxed and was completely fine.<br />
<br />
Whenever I talked to someone about my tattoo beforehand, and I told them where I planned to get it, they would wince and say, "Really? The ribs hurt pretty bad." Well, either they were overstating it, or I'm just super tough (and I like to think it's the latter), because I barely felt any pain. The biggest discomfort was when it was time to get up from the chair and look in the mirror; my arm had fallen asleep from holding it over my head for so long. 🤣<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJl5OeSD4gL47GcAfqH2fwZmG_qZB8NxpoXzMxlbuAFSwKIXgONvwHetpOinjAKE_-v1giVNTw5RPh8sq5jUiI2hmg6gSPnIyL07_OD_hrANUKtNxgEW4fra9Kzs6pZWp6t5lCX0WiPNk/s1600/IMG_20180630_153419_084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJl5OeSD4gL47GcAfqH2fwZmG_qZB8NxpoXzMxlbuAFSwKIXgONvwHetpOinjAKE_-v1giVNTw5RPh8sq5jUiI2hmg6gSPnIyL07_OD_hrANUKtNxgEW4fra9Kzs6pZWp6t5lCX0WiPNk/s400/IMG_20180630_153419_084.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you're in the HoCo area and looking to get a tattoo, <br />
I totally recommend <a href="http://www.roseredtattoomd.com/casey-hart" target="_blank">Casey Hart at Rose Red Tattoo</a>...she did a fantastic job!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So now your favorite blogger is all inked up! Check that off the bucket list. 🗹<br />
<br />
Friday morning dawned hot but clear; good weather for the next thing on my list of to-dos, something that's been on my bucket list since my bucket list's very inception: skydiving.<br />
<br />
I went to <a href="http://skydivedelmarva.com/" target="_blank">Skydive Delmarva</a>, which I'd heard good things about from a friend who's working on his A-license. It was a bit of a hike (a 2-hour drive), but it was absolutely worth it.<br />
<br />
I rolled up around 10:45am and proceeded to thoroughly read--and yet somehow still screw up on--the lengthy waiver. After signing my life away, I was introduced to my tandem skydiving instructor, Chris, a massive former Special Forces guy whose mere presence made me feel a whole lot safer about the whole jumping-out-of-a-plane thing, and my personal videographer, Ed, a 70-something-year-old with 2,000+ skydives under his belt. #goals<br />
<br />
Fifteen minutes later, I was strapped into my harness and profusely sweating--from the 95° heat, not from nerves, I'll have you know--as the plane taxied into the loading zone.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1voQ4vsn2JNuIW-KOrQx-com4M2D7Xf9ekM1rf5hWU2cgKssPIbfWdJitfJedx5zayc7tZEfju5RLsQJxt1QHTju4sxQ5N5-rZYJxO7MOjmh1sY-qaQY3Wg1JDPxKVNDje-gMv8KY5gYy/s1600/G0029027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1voQ4vsn2JNuIW-KOrQx-com4M2D7Xf9ekM1rf5hWU2cgKssPIbfWdJitfJedx5zayc7tZEfju5RLsQJxt1QHTju4sxQ5N5-rZYJxO7MOjmh1sY-qaQY3Wg1JDPxKVNDje-gMv8KY5gYy/s400/G0029027.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Locked and loaded.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I realized as the plane lifted off that it was my first time in a small plane. I didn't have much time to dwell on that thought, though; I got distracted by the AC turning on. And by "AC turning on," I mean "the door opening at the back of the plane to get a cool breeze flowing through." I'd never been in a plane (large or small) with the door open mid-flight; I think most people can say the same.<br />
<br />
Next thing I knew (really about 10 minutes later), Chris was quintuple-checking my harness and showing me the altimeter: 13,500ft. Time to go!<br />
<br />
We were the last ones to leave the plane, but somehow I managed to blink and miss everyone else jumping out the door. All I remember is thinking "Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit" as we stood in the doorway, looking down at the ground oh-so-far below. And then suddenly we weren't in the plane anymore.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilcOyNdMfJRc-GmfLnb3k-MalZeKLabbDmEr74uY-t9bKEYI5F_gDWikdUIwvZZ7MGUTuEXHrbTa7CR73DIJ9aYIhHjs6NX7802YSR5PCnzqk1DOrO9RFTRD7DOiPDIZzUfMWWku4f9Adq/s1600/G0069063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilcOyNdMfJRc-GmfLnb3k-MalZeKLabbDmEr74uY-t9bKEYI5F_gDWikdUIwvZZ7MGUTuEXHrbTa7CR73DIJ9aYIhHjs6NX7802YSR5PCnzqk1DOrO9RFTRD7DOiPDIZzUfMWWku4f9Adq/s400/G0069063.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4vb9tRuuAI83ZB9Ac1fumptmQ2sDSHvIlpkyZithB-HpZQn8K_kfl58aF4xJxmLa8KAWnxca7WiEsgdEDoKtBgGa2wnzUuzyvSKhWsIOjOcCCLpbEPQdJlZBMC_Sqz7KQSY5rJGZsd7_/s1600/G0069068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4vb9tRuuAI83ZB9Ac1fumptmQ2sDSHvIlpkyZithB-HpZQn8K_kfl58aF4xJxmLa8KAWnxca7WiEsgdEDoKtBgGa2wnzUuzyvSKhWsIOjOcCCLpbEPQdJlZBMC_Sqz7KQSY5rJGZsd7_/s400/G0069068.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
I don't really have the words to describe what it felt like--you've really got to experience it to understand it--but I'm going to try anyway.<br />
<br />
After an initial moment of shock--"I just jumped out of a goddamn airplane!"--all I felt was exhilaration. Pure, unadulterated exhilaration. It was freaking AMAZING.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRVz0ixgOWkt0r_4bYjUZCX7SQije0EV9Dw9qIMj1IRA_UsAqFtAa1KByjvNpKSHE951fUgnfoOBA6NZaPV5XKT-Mu6B_-R4A9hsYU6g5PGsDmKfY4R5_t-drohqeFMSqYw7QgfwuyqViy/s1600/G0069095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRVz0ixgOWkt0r_4bYjUZCX7SQije0EV9Dw9qIMj1IRA_UsAqFtAa1KByjvNpKSHE951fUgnfoOBA6NZaPV5XKT-Mu6B_-R4A9hsYU6g5PGsDmKfY4R5_t-drohqeFMSqYw7QgfwuyqViy/s400/G0069095.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
It all happened so fast, it was as though my brain got left behind and all that was left was pure sensation.<br />
<br />
It didn't feel like falling...the air was pushing up on me so hard that it felt more like I was staying in one place while the ground was getting closer.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbnUE9ywkTFbw5-XC0OtQK36y00YHZr5lS1eUHsxjnWytMfDxVsxQgwqDjZdj6vRJA2-maUcCQg2uxksT3tTpobDdfzDM7_hvWl9H-0BC7SPGQgQ875Ww_glNJNi_rWfCeTztMi06us16/s1600/IMG_20180629_235715_301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="1080" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbnUE9ywkTFbw5-XC0OtQK36y00YHZr5lS1eUHsxjnWytMfDxVsxQgwqDjZdj6vRJA2-maUcCQg2uxksT3tTpobDdfzDM7_hvWl9H-0BC7SPGQgQ875Ww_glNJNi_rWfCeTztMi06us16/s400/IMG_20180629_235715_301.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SO ALIVE</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Before I knew it, Chris was pulling the ripcord and all the rushing in my ears abruptly ceased.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlcSvBwAgEcNiU1lPjnyHbLWeyoFTyxRNQklhLTXV7Z2Ur0hKyaBxe-ZJvuoRa-cLh6ZZ4TnorE8MOhMUNTAz91e8zn_H87EPp4t9f2DhMDqFMxSd-ex8jdivAg6Q8EWb6OQTWU2IZSd2/s1600/G0069159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlcSvBwAgEcNiU1lPjnyHbLWeyoFTyxRNQklhLTXV7Z2Ur0hKyaBxe-ZJvuoRa-cLh6ZZ4TnorE8MOhMUNTAz91e8zn_H87EPp4t9f2DhMDqFMxSd-ex8jdivAg6Q8EWb6OQTWU2IZSd2/s400/G0069159.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Once we were under the canopy and floating at a more sedate pace toward the earth, Chris asked how I felt. My brain still hadn't caught up to my body yet, and the first word I found was, "Cold."<br />
<br />
About thirty seconds later, I was slightly more coherent--though even now I still don't have the words to fully express what it felt like--and I was able to tell him how completely mindblown I was, how alive I felt, what a freaking rush it was.<br />
<br />
Chris pulled some crazy spins with the parachute on the way down, and we even went weightless for a moment or two, giving me the dropping sensation that I'd expected from the freefall.<br />
<br />
I scored some sweet grass stains on my butt as, about 6 minutes after jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, we touched smoothly back down to earth.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGaOcJf22K3FrnooI-VtlQKoNN1SIvoUJUlKEsoZlx-VIaC0Q0B-EuzMoEuceoVlR-kXMcpwsMYbaZgBcmxw5aQ_XIymkxmEcS76Nk55qD0_YyW3Cyp_hTus8bcCwUqBs5DE3hfaDRFHy/s1600/G0079204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGaOcJf22K3FrnooI-VtlQKoNN1SIvoUJUlKEsoZlx-VIaC0Q0B-EuzMoEuceoVlR-kXMcpwsMYbaZgBcmxw5aQ_XIymkxmEcS76Nk55qD0_YyW3Cyp_hTus8bcCwUqBs5DE3hfaDRFHy/s400/G0079204.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiayHDZnR3s_kFTp6LcZeKaMTigbvPRB4Hr76ndOhcbtuMaauvHsDXVMS6qnzh1AdHwV-HJGHgySzbY3CzBOkPY1MXQQSjjGReKpVkvrmjPMTeSXlVeAnz8engpFqp-Sx4JBk7giTPwBxXA/s1600/G0079210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiayHDZnR3s_kFTp6LcZeKaMTigbvPRB4Hr76ndOhcbtuMaauvHsDXVMS6qnzh1AdHwV-HJGHgySzbY3CzBOkPY1MXQQSjjGReKpVkvrmjPMTeSXlVeAnz8engpFqp-Sx4JBk7giTPwBxXA/s400/G0079210.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back on solid ground.</td></tr>
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Back on the ground, I had no idea what to do with the rest of my day. Before skydiving, I'd had a notion that I might go to the beach, since I was most of the way there already. Post-jump, however, the idea seemed laughably lackluster.<br />
<br />
I ended up hanging around, watching as other jumpers, both tandem and solo, came and went. I got to chatting with some of the staff and got a rundown of how the parachutes get packed, and how exactly they work when the ripcord is pulled.<br />
<br />
Around 3:00, someone asked me if I wanted to do another tandem jump. My answer was something to the effect of, "Um, DUH!" I guess I hadn't realized that I had been waiting all day for someone to ask me that very question.<br />
<br />
Since I didn't have a videographer for my second jump, Chris and I were free to do some crazy barrel rolls right out of the plane. So. Freaking. Fun.<br />
<br />
There's nothing quite like looking up at the plane you've just leaped out of.<br />
<br />
I got just as much of a rush from my second jump as I did from the first. God, it was fun! (See, I keep repeating myself because I just don't have the words!)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkgsxEBEKT4wf4is0Yn0SyFDncILezGxkUYqqzG4TqwrmzJR-CyTrf7E5zgOi_PgcvuNGJJa0UoFrWswu7T1AkZwzQQpsaBSQEqZsnn1J6sn1EFFEwzao5fNNME8n09weWSNxmyxA4rhuS/s1600/G0069110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkgsxEBEKT4wf4is0Yn0SyFDncILezGxkUYqqzG4TqwrmzJR-CyTrf7E5zgOi_PgcvuNGJJa0UoFrWswu7T1AkZwzQQpsaBSQEqZsnn1J6sn1EFFEwzao5fNNME8n09weWSNxmyxA4rhuS/s400/G0069110.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
At the end of the video from my first jump, Ed (the videographer) asked me if I thought I'd do it again. I said, "Yeah, I think so." Guess there's no doubt left in anyone's mind now!<br />
<br />
So...who's coming with me next time?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-76531543317753569882018-06-20T13:02:00.002-04:002018-06-20T13:04:24.309-04:00Getting Political<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have sort of held off on talking about any political issues--in real life and here on my blog--because I haven't felt well-informed enough about the issues to intelligently discuss them. But recently I've come to recognize that thought for the excuse that it is; I should be actively seeking to stay informed about the issues at hand, rather than waiting for the information to come to me. (By the time it does get to me, not only is it often obsolete, it's also usually been distorted beyond credibility anyway.)<br />
<br />
I still don't feel that I've done enough research into the current issues to write an intelligent post about them (yet), but I did want to share this sort of epiphany that I had in the hopes that it will encourage you, my dear readers, to also be politically proactive.<br />
<ol>
<li><b>Actively seek out information from multiple credible sources.</b> </li>
<li>Share this information with others...not just on social media. <b>Have an intelligent, <u>respectful </u>discussion about the issues.</b> Don't be afraid to have your views challenged...it's okay to disagree, and it's okay to change your opinion based on new information or a new way of thinking. That's growth!</li>
<li><b>DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. </b>Call your Congresspeople at (202-224-3121). Tell them what you want them to do...after all, they represent you! You can also use <a href="http://govtrack.us/">GovTrack.us</a> to find out who your senators and representatives are. </li>
<li><b>Vote, vote, vote! </b>Don't use a lack of information as an excuse; a great way to be informed about the candidates on the ballot is to check out <a href="http://vote411.org/">Vote411.org</a>. </li>
</ol>
Whatever your political beliefs are, government only works if we make it work for us.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sayingimages.com/wp-content/uploads/yeah-if-you-could-just-get-out-and-vote-thatd-be-great-voting-meme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Image result for voting memes" border="0" height="302" src="https://sayingimages.com/wp-content/uploads/yeah-if-you-could-just-get-out-and-vote-thatd-be-great-voting-meme.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wouldn't be a Jess blog post without a meme. </td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-64858668418840197282018-06-19T10:12:00.002-04:002018-06-19T10:51:55.929-04:00Summer 2018Well, hello there...long time, no see.<br />
<br />
My bad.<br />
<br />
The last 4 months of the school year (yes, it has been that long since my last post, and yes, I am sorry) were tough, to say the least. Most of the time, I was just hanging on, counting down the days--and on some days, the hours--left in the school year. It was always too many.<br />
<br />
Now that summer vacation has finally--FINALLY!--arrived, I find myself with both the time and the motivation to blog. So here we go...<br />
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Let's start with a (brief) reflection on my first year as a full-time teacher:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZtj2wV4G2FP7DHqUEzHv5Lfv_kdKIphibsmDKVcB1hr1Cq7G4U6fPN4lX7wSxbuAOCfGvwWMnXiXDQhGz6AZlo5xBiKjYyo0Z4s6BQcHfbhuXa_Olnm4qfoUCDdIfAkhhDHScesWyj6Rx/s1600/Teacher-meme-50-becoming-a-teacher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZtj2wV4G2FP7DHqUEzHv5Lfv_kdKIphibsmDKVcB1hr1Cq7G4U6fPN4lX7wSxbuAOCfGvwWMnXiXDQhGz6AZlo5xBiKjYyo0Z4s6BQcHfbhuXa_Olnm4qfoUCDdIfAkhhDHScesWyj6Rx/s400/Teacher-meme-50-becoming-a-teacher.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty much sums it up.</td></tr>
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I survived my first year of teaching 3rd grade with my sanity (somewhat) intact.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVbsasc5X58gsJi5aT5PnX6IyPuOFp_NItiQT9Nn4HYaU-4LQ2yr2abAjmnv6VkNyPDMaSqD621bKy6OaBnf0iq7X5ST1aV2XU_gKy5TQ8cObDG_9Xyg4hmGqOLjA_dwJIhci664wHLgu/s1600/thats-all-i-have-to-say-about-that.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVbsasc5X58gsJi5aT5PnX6IyPuOFp_NItiQT9Nn4HYaU-4LQ2yr2abAjmnv6VkNyPDMaSqD621bKy6OaBnf0iq7X5ST1aV2XU_gKy5TQ8cObDG_9Xyg4hmGqOLjA_dwJIhci664wHLgu/s400/thats-all-i-have-to-say-about-that.png" width="272" /></a></div>
Now summer is here, and I haven't checked my school email since the last day of school, nor do I plan to anytime soon. (If anyone from work is reading this, don't rat me out. K thanks.)<br />
<br />
No more thinking about school...my focus is on enjoying the bejesus out of my summer!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwqJm0jfi5wt2BKW0DqdN3HS8TrYr8VtcMoprbA4yJSeeSzLGe2j83kr8ueYYQu5Xk0STmP9Mj2JbK27xgGnNWl7cXPVIaLbA12chCTUxK5n6kbQdMAY-M3kBWd1xep7E7EHQrsVilo3oC/s1600/edna+mode.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwqJm0jfi5wt2BKW0DqdN3HS8TrYr8VtcMoprbA4yJSeeSzLGe2j83kr8ueYYQu5Xk0STmP9Mj2JbK27xgGnNWl7cXPVIaLbA12chCTUxK5n6kbQdMAY-M3kBWd1xep7E7EHQrsVilo3oC/s400/edna+mode.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I had to. <br />
Last meme for now, I promise. </td></tr>
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So what do I have planned for this summer? I'm so glad you asked...<br />
<br />
Ya girl is getting out of the country again!<br />
<br />
That's right, I will be making my triumphant return to Europe when I go to Italy in July. My rough itinerary for my two-and-a-half-week trip is:<br />
<ol>
<li>Fly to Italy. </li>
<li>Eat a crap ton of pasta.</li>
<li>Eat a crap ton of gelato.</li>
<li>Visit family in Germany. </li>
<li>Have coffee and cake every day.</li>
<li>Fly home. </li>
</ol>
For those of you wondering which cities I will be in when I am eating my body weight in Italian food:<br />
<ul>
<li>Rome (day trips to Pompeii and possibly Capri)</li>
<li>Florence (day trip to Pisa)</li>
<li>Cinque Terre</li>
<li>Venice (day trip to Verona and hiking in the Dolomites)</li>
</ul>
If any of y'all have been to Italy and have any suggestions for me, leave a comment! I love love love travel recommendations!<br />
<br />
The rest of this summer, I'm working at Go Ape treetop adventure course again, so I'll be spending a lot of time outdoors. (Come visit me at work if you fancy a swing through the trees!)<br />
<br />
On my days off, I'm scheming a lot of day trips to the beach, some hiking, and checking off items on my bucket list. (Stay tuned for more details on that!)<br />
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I'm also hoping to see <i>Hamilton </i>at the Kennedy Center at some point this summer, so if anyone needs any ideas for a birthday gift for me... *wink wink*<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://img.playbuzz.com/image/upload/c_crop,h_298,w_540,x_0,y_0/f_auto,fl_lossy,q_auto/c_limit,w_640/v1484342028/tz4ynzt4uchx9wzknlgi.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://img.playbuzz.com/image/upload/c_crop,h_298,w_540,x_0,y_0/f_auto,fl_lossy,q_auto/c_limit,w_640/v1484342028/tz4ynzt4uchx9wzknlgi.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
↑ Me when I start talking about Hamilton. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
My friends and family. ↑</div>
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But actually.<br />
<br />
Anyhoo, that's all for now, loyal readers. My *goal* for this summer is 2 blog posts a month, so you'll hear from me again soon. ☺Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-17116191140922947042018-02-11T20:58:00.001-05:002018-02-11T20:58:30.576-05:00I'm Addicted<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In the last 5 months, it's gone from occasional recreational activity to hobby to habit to obsession to full-blown addiction.<br />
<br />
I just can't get enough.<br />
<br />
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm talking about rock climbing. (Bet I had you going for a moment there, though...heh-heh-heh.)<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Image result for rock climbing seinfeld gif" height="275" src="https://media.giphy.com/media/3o7TKoLSUWybe97uWA/giphy.gif" width="400" /></div>
It all started over the summer, when I climbed a couple of times with some cool people from work (y'all know who you are) after we closed up the course for the day.<br />
<br />
No, wait, it kind of started before that.<br />
<br />
The first couple of years that I was at Towson, there was a rock wall in the fitness center. I went a few times with friends, and while it was definitely fun, running was my drug of choice at the time. First I was training for a marathon, and then <a href="http://kronum.com/" target="_blank">Kronum </a>came along, and then I graduated and went off to Europe. (I may have mentioned that little trip once or twice before...) Suffice to say, I didn't catch the climbing bug the first time around.<br />
<br />
Flash back to last summer at <a href="http://www.goape.com/" target="_blank">Go Ape</a>, when the aforementioned cool work friends said that they were going climbing after work. I was totally eavesdropping on their conversation at the time, and managed to finagle myself an invitation to tag along.<br />
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A few weeks later, I had an <a href="https://www.earthtreksclimbing.com/" target="_blank">Earth Treks</a> membership and a harness of my very own. (Happy Birthday to me!)<br />
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You could say I was hooked.<br />
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See, the thing about climbing--for me, at least--is that it's completely engaging. I am so entirely in the moment when I'm climbing, because it is simultaneously a workout and a brain teaser. I have to figure out how to get myself up the wall, move by move, and I have to work my muscles (in occasionally mind-boggling contortions) to make that happen.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for rock climbing quotes" height="400" src="https://img.picturequotes.com/2/677/676388/rock-climbing-quote-1-picture-quote-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="283" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me.</td></tr>
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It's the ultimate in mindfulness practices for me: body and brain, united for a common goal, and existing entirely within the moment.<br />
<br />
Continuing with the meditation metaphor, topping out a tough climb is its own kind of nirvana. That feeling when I get my chalk-covered hands on the top of the wall...the thrill and the relief just wash over me...I freaking EARNED it.<br />
<br />
And I love that I can see and feel myself making progress. When I started out, I was top roping mostly 5.8s and 5.9s, and I've worked my way up now to some 5.11as. I started out bouldering V1s, and on Friday, I tried my first V5. (I literally belly flopped off it, but still.)<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">*For those of you who don't speak climber, here's a nifty little <a href="https://www.sierratradingpost.com/blog/climbing/rock-climbing-grades-explained/" target="_blank">article </a>that gives a basic rundown of climbing grades.</span><br />
<br />
I'm totally hooked. I've started watching climbing videos on YouTube, and I'm looking into good places for outdoor climbing in the area. (Any suggestions??) My workouts on non-climbing days are primarily based on what will help me become a better climber. (Hint: lots of chin-ups, push-ups, and fly lifts are involved.)<br />
<br />
The climbing community is also super awesome. Everyone is so friendly and helpful to each other! If I'm working on the same bouldering problem as someone else, I'll inevitably end up offering (and receiving) some suggestions and encouragement. And when I do finally top out, my new best bud is celebrating with me.<br />
<br />
I love it. I love it I love it I love it.<br />
<br />
I could go on about how awesome climbing is forEVER. I could, but I won't. I'll just leave you with this:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for rock climbing quotes" height="184" src="https://www.gdargaud.net/Humor/Pics/XKCD_Climbing.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Actual pictures of me actually climbing will be in another post.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Stay weird, y'all. </div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-79968746319598857212018-01-06T13:26:00.000-05:002018-01-06T15:56:36.867-05:00Oh Canada<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As I'm sure you can imagine, Canada in December is freaking COLD. I know Maryland isn't exactly warm right now, but when I say Ontario was cold, I'm talking negative, double-digit temperatures here.<br />
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So why did I choose to spend five of the coldest days <i>of the century</i> (yes, really) in Toronto?<br />
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Well, I was itching for another international voyage, but when I started pricing flights for my winter break, everywhere warm was pretty dang expensive. So I decided to pay my first visit to our neighbors to the north. </div>
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<div>
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<div>
Wednesday morning, Evan and I flew out of DC and were on the ground in Toronto before noon. Despite the best efforts of the automated kiosk in the customs line, we were breathing brisk Canadian air shortly thereafter. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Thanks to the <a href="https://moovitapp.com/" target="_blank">Moovit app</a> (a must-have for any traveler hoping to use public transportation), we had no trouble finding the train and then streetcar that we needed. But paying for it was a whole 'nother can of worms. Once on board the streetcar, it became apparent that the 20-Canadian-dollar bill I'd gotten out of the airport ATM wasn't going to work in the coin slot on the bus. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Enter stereotypically friendly Canadian lady, who offered us to swap the twenty for all the change in her purse so we could pay the fare. She also gave us a rundown of how paying for Toronto public transit worked (so we wouldn't get stuck again), inquired about where we were from ("And what do you think aboot the weather here?"), and told us her own life story (born in England, emigrated to Canada when she was 5). When we reached our stop about 15 minutes later, our new best friend (and the lady across the aisle) sent us on our way with the warmest wishes for a good first visit to Toronto.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oh, Canadians. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Having without further incident located and checked into our Airbnb (which we found out later was in the heart of "hipster heaven"), we proceeded to get frustratingly lost looking for tourism office. (Seems a little counterintuitive, no? You'd think it would be one of the easiest things to find when you first arrive in a new city.) When we finally stumbled upon it a half hour later, my frazzled nerves were immediately soothed by the friendly and helpful tourism lady, who plied us with suggestions for more authentic/local things to do during our stay in Toronto, locations of cheap souvenir shops, and coupons for all of the touristy things to do in the area.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Armed with a city map, covered in scribbled notes and circled attractions, we headed for St. Lawrence market. We grazed our way through a tasty seafood orzo and a variety of desserts from one of the bakeries, before sampling some of the Niagara region's famous ice wine, which--as the very friendly vendor proceeded to tell us--is made from grapes that are frozen solid, picked by hand, and pressed into a delicious dessert wine (that apparently also pairs really well with blue cheese). </div>
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On the recommendation of the tourism lady, the last activity for my first day in Canada was the Art Gallery of Ontario, which on Wednesday nights is freeeeee! There were a few exhibits that I really liked...this one was my favorite:<br />
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<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/XqDtyd39m838iI-MjxwnMnpOgqh7tqQcu-_dO51Gelh2mDdZD-mZ-YV0RX6Uw4GJ72SsLbNXndbZ1_ETngeWRKZm7x6ESbzoM7w9evCRb-AcbIW29DCsEzfp28MrOChPBKCHuJtPASRQZy18MbpxA-Z3ymGCeLR1pwwioh4nI8mgD35tnLQBQZ0oHYLHdlDvqL0ITMkZdIPeegu0OHJaqY5yr0P8FjhUfefaVrsiLY7EEsJSzfUvw21wZ96ST6KAtlZEcMBQI-dS42lviJNfEYstSs1QmcF5Rbp6NLX8GLqbrrBHME9U7Uzl8MkIrIkg5t23857v6EZyvolZU-MkJEmYm2rmYwTv5MSER5F4cYakGn6PZlAximpbSA3G-wsTRSBl1wvnQdy0PLem6bW1k30gq-VpRBCVVUzzHaYFw92POkTCCz8iSw6zZBM9TxvI6gsMjb8v7ygjQ67Aa8BE7Yjfg9oa_XP1zzGr0ngxEJiyrGYTqc0tcDOvltUFkB8DM8jjiyU6xK3wBixfeAhwpqkhqXTG68RrE9q7ighHGngpzUkI9fOxp9fGJRG8pk8m34lcEEpj-rReAa02S0XNwhAHeAm8CkSSW7MYfut_=w1600-h711-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/XqDtyd39m838iI-MjxwnMnpOgqh7tqQcu-_dO51Gelh2mDdZD-mZ-YV0RX6Uw4GJ72SsLbNXndbZ1_ETngeWRKZm7x6ESbzoM7w9evCRb-AcbIW29DCsEzfp28MrOChPBKCHuJtPASRQZy18MbpxA-Z3ymGCeLR1pwwioh4nI8mgD35tnLQBQZ0oHYLHdlDvqL0ITMkZdIPeegu0OHJaqY5yr0P8FjhUfefaVrsiLY7EEsJSzfUvw21wZ96ST6KAtlZEcMBQI-dS42lviJNfEYstSs1QmcF5Rbp6NLX8GLqbrrBHME9U7Uzl8MkIrIkg5t23857v6EZyvolZU-MkJEmYm2rmYwTv5MSER5F4cYakGn6PZlAximpbSA3G-wsTRSBl1wvnQdy0PLem6bW1k30gq-VpRBCVVUzzHaYFw92POkTCCz8iSw6zZBM9TxvI6gsMjb8v7ygjQ67Aa8BE7Yjfg9oa_XP1zzGr0ngxEJiyrGYTqc0tcDOvltUFkB8DM8jjiyU6xK3wBixfeAhwpqkhqXTG68RrE9q7ighHGngpzUkI9fOxp9fGJRG8pk8m34lcEEpj-rReAa02S0XNwhAHeAm8CkSSW7MYfut_=w1600-h711-no" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's right...I came all the way to Canada to see a Baltimore artist's work.</td></tr>
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I'd booked a day trip to Niagara Falls for day two of my great northern adventure, so Thursday morning featured an early start at Tim Horton's, complete with a cup of coffee and a maple donut.<br />
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America may run on Dunkin', but Canada runs on Tim Horton's. </div>
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The first stop along our tour was at a winery, where I participated in my very first wine tasting, managing to simultaneously feel very sophisticated and very ridiculous. I sampled a white (which I liked) and a red (which I didn't). And that's about as much as I can say about that, given my limited wine-tasting experience and vocabulary.</div>
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Next stop on the tour was Niagara on the Lake, a teeny little town with the most adorable main street ever. AKA, a total tourist trap. But I didn't let that deter me from stopping in almost every bakery, candy shop, and ice cream parlor in town to satisfy even my sweet tooth.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Never too cold for ice cream!<br />
(Maple walnut and caramel macchiato flavors, in case you were wondering.)</td></tr>
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We arrived at Niagara Falls after a brief stop at the largest naturally occurring whirlpool in the world (who knew that was in Canada?). As it was far too cold for boat cruises to be operating, our tour group went up in Skylon tower for a view over the falls.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tower</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="201" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/u6x65ltF8z2CKNqXBQAnlVoI91vDa5w98LpXEWWr0XmqP0_lYRIWzinTuM8k1vSf1AnowDZKIlZ0TltIfW1Kk6U05B80Ia031NbtHcqgDZfFe9IAw4fsHfajGfGfI3Ctyt3eh7Ez_11p4HDW9rJcpSB-pjr0rz-5bQETEYf7Je3ba7XsupFEE3dOruyNsvmsy5Eit36-nox9W1XT7ZA0ivnMPaF4bR9FZSxvQrnUVFSNdjclHojfXojgaJcnCWNZjFtuSktUFhi_GKGZ-gE3zNXYzmYz75lvEYZkw1s9cpAo3kP72nLo_z14yIpZEyD4bZqVoF6sWZyNaWn57GquRC_H8_xHJ2Mt2k2ZqdiLk9cmYN8wIzv7ioLDGMpvg-0O50GYqtCKxPXDN3DtqyD8mmZHMNcyL8uo6jRH_BcBI-Y6LBq7_5ehcb9NHlNRG757YvDgJnLzr36LWHnUsaHIJmmTJ4Q-qXlSXuhaELxE_vN-Yq81A2DYLQJeEawHQmdWWmHHwYuQ3soXcu0fmIYc9S1JCh2ltCBJFyhr62qtvpgqqGmNIutK_N_OmXAf2rg8bA1en0CxMczTYLbhgHjRMcjSFXCBf7cnFa3qRMQC=w1528-h769-no" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view</td></tr>
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When we finally got up close and personal with the Falls themselves, the wind was fortunately blowing toward New York, taking the mist with it, so I didn't immediately become a Jess-shaped popsicle. </div>
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When we got back to the city, dinner was the next order of business. After wandering up and down a couple of restaurant-filled blocks near the Airbnb, Evan and I were convinced by the super-friendly hostess to dine at Reverie at Weldon Park. And I am so glad she did convince us.<br />
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All I can say is SWOON. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sea scallops with piccata sauce and fresh bread</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/4vBSff_NjNyZRzClZMUc65ow3P3qiutykpjZqrdLb_faOJiNcd_8UQREZZVOpLvfLRfhzBffQ-KR5G-Z9gVrX3ifxnCw3yApmrDUh6UeTOfaGEzvEIwiKsH3ibvFuZnCXGlJAsLTTuzSb9k21xkyyJYgcOqichaBf8-VPjVtftz5liBvjksd1fXLqgWPyQRuxDe5r3wqt8LHHn8VjOAuewwlQmp9DxHVSL9e1HvDX18ToOPfeLozAMIGTHvY_wW9Xs9bIeM7bUkJjFxzb_TNXK4kPN-c_I1X_WVZ-Y3LzOSFYd-7wU0q5gP70oO8P0qr4KqAgRKLWkzK9F1KxVzQP0sTejeQ-oH5Tu56L8C8KJebyaqMh5jkeBO-HE9rhcbBu_o-17xre4H0yugZehUhR2odLvEMaY0fmtWhRi5erNN6S7Qs5CvnOpRJl3Had0CF6YpRVs9FVfzRyXg2yd_fdTk9aIl1iuCS0TCHu-GfMZjuOJxuz-PEOy5DkD6oW6TWPm0ep-_pP3YBQGe-SJT2lZknAl6zrQ5hMk_JJphySSxmzsQf3MqUSH6AI3o2lsWTrywBXYhWn-qIr4H4XBBCrqG3L7rK9huCdYtL6s_9=w592-h516-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="347" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/4vBSff_NjNyZRzClZMUc65ow3P3qiutykpjZqrdLb_faOJiNcd_8UQREZZVOpLvfLRfhzBffQ-KR5G-Z9gVrX3ifxnCw3yApmrDUh6UeTOfaGEzvEIwiKsH3ibvFuZnCXGlJAsLTTuzSb9k21xkyyJYgcOqichaBf8-VPjVtftz5liBvjksd1fXLqgWPyQRuxDe5r3wqt8LHHn8VjOAuewwlQmp9DxHVSL9e1HvDX18ToOPfeLozAMIGTHvY_wW9Xs9bIeM7bUkJjFxzb_TNXK4kPN-c_I1X_WVZ-Y3LzOSFYd-7wU0q5gP70oO8P0qr4KqAgRKLWkzK9F1KxVzQP0sTejeQ-oH5Tu56L8C8KJebyaqMh5jkeBO-HE9rhcbBu_o-17xre4H0yugZehUhR2odLvEMaY0fmtWhRi5erNN6S7Qs5CvnOpRJl3Had0CF6YpRVs9FVfzRyXg2yd_fdTk9aIl1iuCS0TCHu-GfMZjuOJxuz-PEOy5DkD6oW6TWPm0ep-_pP3YBQGe-SJT2lZknAl6zrQ5hMk_JJphySSxmzsQf3MqUSH6AI3o2lsWTrywBXYhWn-qIr4H4XBBCrqG3L7rK9huCdYtL6s_9=w592-h516-no" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Gnocchi fritti with edamame, grilled heart of palm, ricotta, and spinach cream</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><img height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/USAXd6VKAxyV88_wzyM7tNbPOoojesdSCqjqWkAJXw0aTZ4gO81W8CCMcX9CW3UEHPqdbGNo0U7UJEcHL0r4KOWOx430GByhj9zyxqhbFopa5RXcfSy09-jK58Q5DW-cvv1DmiiP_jvXG33LposAnjXfhPs3umIG0rH8AKE2tjqBquZJlRgRSAteuJSBoCRzsOmT5GkB1mf6iT1c6kktZPZ_MQQ62hO6bTB7u_kV0VpIrzBHuhJHVeMsTc6rt4BgRPpV3rS_MOBTHZMSQnZ52fxH0Y7uWfPF3RVINnB7vdoGHPPZxva7-qeE8JTYCnjhi1ZSxlmj15XHDxd3WjqL7E2JKNrUibeqBjcew7tzrvnN1o11XLILGmqzODmiXbCAS6J6HinxzWNXNscm7bvMEFTK2LOMcFMz2RL83c-e0THIK4IllswlIqvkYJxOs9qqwda79SbbqlcOTBhWtbsSk_HqNc_IdgAm8wgN8U6yq8GiEEP-s67W0CDZ6I9L-4UsSD3Hhd-1NAcWm30PXAL3pE-_0F2zP3gns-5tgLJIdJJm9V-gwsYTBy2uX3EIIkJuw1SSZyU51oajMyIkQSWcZmBwKFl71YEYKDwcChhi=w581-h637-no" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="363" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Alaskan trout with Canadian curry, Israeli couscous, cauliflower, shaved carrot and lime yogurt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><img height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/KRdaxy_jRgMPfVVKsy7-6jD0uDNuc5hflNcayL4QlFeikbUM8nTZTXn-qNVST4hewbZutVqP0f9R9W6M74ntOQU-Clbhcafo7M6s5o6s0q1Um7Yrg4kJdR9_OBvlpjyQALDzA8Q0ovz0CVWgZNeuSEGFm5RkNlu38I7Xr3BRC2Y2YBzRYkyXmkA1tcqka2IMYzSMDoauyABftkmhzlVWmaOw2J4HGDVer4TzRFkT08Ko8qTsc3Pjw_bmfAeHNrRfPaxQBpaIIJvzAnBol0Jgf3lAED-b5Dg5NJG59kAiRy6YhRraU9oahGZneJLgrCywyE5gYL1UnTQC7nPWW2xM6npRDHqGfjU4GftOBbqiVRz4OQ1GWBemaH46YiDX-97PWSsK8vCHMCZdfS4tioEznAVzrGmYA4iPPGQv_TGow3hsbfFnE8kHS6ZcRGjcKK-rYe9TEXP4ajxZUIOAZ9IpbtOHhCRDYPzIXgpvnoaYwrPibY1QJmWiloggEwf8yDqRa603KjucbaNfrpnv4GXJZqxeoK2Ou-IoRD_y9oOqd7hHs3cd4F9SX-d4dnAFwmfwxQGAaUAqEsM1ENLoglui_sPbeFw9o1ETtTB5f0Cp=w568-h637-no" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="356" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Dessert, which completely blew my mind. <br />
Chocolate cake wafers, smoked white chocolate mousse with lime zest,<br />
candied orange peel, toasted white chocolate crumbles,<br />
coffee ice cream, candied orange peel,<br />
and--get this--dark chocolate air with cayenne. WHAT EVEN??</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Day three of my great northern adventure started with breakfast at a place called Boom Breakfast & Co. and this scrumptious take on eggs Benedict.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/eOO7_AaEsDLNBOOXCUbBV5_fRquITZXKygk6wM-BpjJbEaXUjHWFLrLYT3FefQ7LEhRz0MLi7JFgOmyab-k61SXGr3e38sqF3dUS6WlEDy6PDBHKhxa3p0t7Qx8_kaZ49oH2_EIzkF-fYV_n_XDriUEqQcJ62QxzQi4VF_77KOt11vz5FS1_yJnpk6w0iaa3l4_oeILgrVzlcQbFnAvzOjrapoUSgan7GcD1n0nQ2fBppbxUsD6hTg8c_hbTA0j1jVfhol7Ud22AVqO8Bb7GeZY47mGsBMB5beKgVW7Yd_o9MuZ7W30pPQ8K29rBM3tc9DBL1mkSgKU6CvIDlYRFfpPgO-zj_FEb1RzMiL8L8PUl5-MBOyqn9-4T2-8oEZbiyzJ787tFFHzHXE6JA9J25PmzQk67xOcC4xQJaRs5sSPdDLxiHLeIriOY6WkOO_sJN2ZSPQeakaiP7Sw22pdx3Bh1SUpEMW8qHCX-uvUVUJOOqLAmwLXYHwNO8YExjsLeoNpCH4QeX74zzRKI2Z_JlS8zNx3oNsEpEMCIHLz1fHbAGew-GeKS29ode8DPkXJ88__0edvu1wozMbTXbeYNa7Vip4hntA--ZcHiGxmI=w706-h769-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/eOO7_AaEsDLNBOOXCUbBV5_fRquITZXKygk6wM-BpjJbEaXUjHWFLrLYT3FefQ7LEhRz0MLi7JFgOmyab-k61SXGr3e38sqF3dUS6WlEDy6PDBHKhxa3p0t7Qx8_kaZ49oH2_EIzkF-fYV_n_XDriUEqQcJ62QxzQi4VF_77KOt11vz5FS1_yJnpk6w0iaa3l4_oeILgrVzlcQbFnAvzOjrapoUSgan7GcD1n0nQ2fBppbxUsD6hTg8c_hbTA0j1jVfhol7Ud22AVqO8Bb7GeZY47mGsBMB5beKgVW7Yd_o9MuZ7W30pPQ8K29rBM3tc9DBL1mkSgKU6CvIDlYRFfpPgO-zj_FEb1RzMiL8L8PUl5-MBOyqn9-4T2-8oEZbiyzJ787tFFHzHXE6JA9J25PmzQk67xOcC4xQJaRs5sSPdDLxiHLeIriOY6WkOO_sJN2ZSPQeakaiP7Sw22pdx3Bh1SUpEMW8qHCX-uvUVUJOOqLAmwLXYHwNO8YExjsLeoNpCH4QeX74zzRKI2Z_JlS8zNx3oNsEpEMCIHLz1fHbAGew-GeKS29ode8DPkXJ88__0edvu1wozMbTXbeYNa7Vip4hntA--ZcHiGxmI=w706-h769-no" width="366" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peep that smoked salmon and spinach. Not to mention those fries. YUM.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Then it was off to the distillery district, where I bought myself a pretty cool Christmas ornament (for next year's tree) and then spotted a chocolate shop. I probably don't need to tell you that I spent some quality time (and a fair few Canadian dollars) there.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="239" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/cQ0vslTAfY938TFr38CT3S0gn-T943phcvqei4ay_GjuSYZxL-uGyoEJBOaELmhUEc0bcPVkJK-fYAi2UfAKO9XB7oKqyO4WStsuzJyfysle4gdqBo219fGFliZuYrZGftLJJ0wK7OWhSM-8Pg5VENS2VvPaTKZyi0wXgabC9aZsDqxsJOKE11kKzsMpnWNzdGUJUuEZDksTjTYJccPXpy9qCTGzR0aslW8fcVmlWf6TPzUnfAPDVUqSbiXOBka1Jvq6Y31fOOkTMAzMHh9GwdhNhoGahjY5Y3L-ljN6Yum2e77n6Ytwpi8FMVDbkEnXF_gQDyMCgsxqfs2byb5Wipk8hURh0H2BX2ovAukuMc1bIV_i_RbO3QTY9Nhp8bA-36AyVxIOfauw5LgxVEUdPC3MV3sRT7pvMZdx7iLWgi7Slw94XEm15YpHFQ4bV0FP-30ffAkATVeINg-ALyJambABw9sg-f_42nC-qnsgo1VFq2szgJy2X2X8hl2P168OuwKUUkEG8CL9f6-1SXCjNYOjpAjrvXdQQh8AkpSaEyZCnwDWtZi8StpDr3Ej3xwh65TbPQaUqZhHmRT48wBW88UaCUHqZ5dSYLucoo13=w1287-h769-no" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The distillery district</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="382" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/kr-8EE--Z0jzJ7xWDLgF6U8KJJawtIJOgImto9iTu9UbYYovVtYUyUA_jrcCM8TjwhNaOLqMQrUuhOk43P_qMW69Dg8Fw6D0Qt58-4APQoEGj5Tn098aN8C3qYuFvNtbkOU8gC87M3ozBPTWXzRn1Kp_ivXCNezkcmz8wxGKBcqvD_TlLe9udM4ntmb7b10ZOUaltbGTD3Ctpy6vxSPSbUjt0cEhYYUDaj7Cwm9CNoXEWRAosido-IzAZqwlRssjo0T2o-Pdf25hpcmY8G7eD3LaUkMFBAoHgFgPtEiokuWx3HXMDKZOpLHw_K61hH5ta6ll1sNfjrX5Lrh9WGJ7iCwfW5Gw_xQ-oyptfTg-HI41PiLf_Sh1-Hm7W9hmPRwqp6s9chs9Hl2OhEr1wElM35C3qBDKn7C8cG-coLJUPz28xIxXNk9JCNXm05DxsrR9-PNRIyzkH92vGy3iDwFuF52_iu8FC_tAg4HqO0NmN0cZUygbK7ke9R4C6l9472JgXZ5oWYPIG_yAr3SxdnmGv9goo6PwOH0NmrKKDlA3TH4UPAo0oFrHZcmQtw6z2De9jZyT51G9gs_9wruhWRroTi1DvtFE6Vx1Sxy6diMy=w805-h769-no" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bicerin: 1/3 liquid chocolate, 1/3 espresso, and 1/3 cream.<br />
Believe it or not, this thing was too rich even for my sweet tooth.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After lunch at Mexican restaurant that had really cool lamps, the next item on the agenda was ice skating by city hall. Toronto has 52 outdoor ice rinks where you can BYOS (if you have them) and skate for free. I rented a pair of skates--a mere ten Canadian dollars for a two-hour rental--and then proceeded to have circles skated around me by Canadian children who were apparently born with ice skates on their feet.<br />
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<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/mpgg8PiiHaa9fQUXxBLcBn32kK8k5Kd1uHt-O1ornygCAWJyh0Zey0W7ubzVL-MC8WQUyCl8Q_3LBbbc1HdfJEEGnHImiqx6PlvXzdyuuGXKZmg3_p3NwRiSJCQEgLVNCq3AnsMnV4stEiJndziTf9FKXoq5IEvrdkLqzyyprgViP0ipJ1c7bAxZ1rqSEzDv3FeMyTTc0n2FY4o--bQ2hzraLHJ54xFX9lGST55tHjBf0IbcaykZ5U-ojQbPUT-YjWkPQJ4mEiH-BwKoKy9S8Sz76M1kXKcpk5JHSkquGtnPJqu6aUIme4_T1rCai45zq_e0jse5ffq5H89RrMByw6UQCtLxZ8lvRPmMju-0eXFM9v0VERv3u_fAvMwYGjDp8AxOULfAtMgXgm1VfrKLHCxuWfoLGCXqqrFYyS_Hg24jAwOFCOlbcWszOplNdPWCxY3D-l8heEdTfzQtyVC02PA05Bl2QoMZeaFAll6VCjZ-ZlmSO_nSN0bZzxOQqcqb0Qb4xytfhCVfp6NcYrsLCKPG4Hvhfnut12mMafJzfbQSWivUFYLCOFWPRV0ScaFMOC51xLMw-ymK74rPPf1HaOKmWq-dMM86i1IwuLmM=w842-h769-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="365" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/mpgg8PiiHaa9fQUXxBLcBn32kK8k5Kd1uHt-O1ornygCAWJyh0Zey0W7ubzVL-MC8WQUyCl8Q_3LBbbc1HdfJEEGnHImiqx6PlvXzdyuuGXKZmg3_p3NwRiSJCQEgLVNCq3AnsMnV4stEiJndziTf9FKXoq5IEvrdkLqzyyprgViP0ipJ1c7bAxZ1rqSEzDv3FeMyTTc0n2FY4o--bQ2hzraLHJ54xFX9lGST55tHjBf0IbcaykZ5U-ojQbPUT-YjWkPQJ4mEiH-BwKoKy9S8Sz76M1kXKcpk5JHSkquGtnPJqu6aUIme4_T1rCai45zq_e0jse5ffq5H89RrMByw6UQCtLxZ8lvRPmMju-0eXFM9v0VERv3u_fAvMwYGjDp8AxOULfAtMgXgm1VfrKLHCxuWfoLGCXqqrFYyS_Hg24jAwOFCOlbcWszOplNdPWCxY3D-l8heEdTfzQtyVC02PA05Bl2QoMZeaFAll6VCjZ-ZlmSO_nSN0bZzxOQqcqb0Qb4xytfhCVfp6NcYrsLCKPG4Hvhfnut12mMafJzfbQSWivUFYLCOFWPRV0ScaFMOC51xLMw-ymK74rPPf1HaOKmWq-dMM86i1IwuLmM=w842-h769-no" width="400" /></a></div>
In my own defense, bundled up as I was against the -10°F wind chill, it was really hard to move with any semblance of grace.</div>
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Ice-skating really wore me out, so I decided that a quick pre-dinner power nap was in order. Three hours later (whoops), Evan and I had a late dinner at very hipster ramen place where they shouted something in Japanese both as we entered and when we left.<br />
<br />
Side-note: ramen is definitely one of the best cold-weather foods.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
My last full day in Canada began with another visit to the St. Lawrence market. Since it was Saturday, the farmer's market section was open for business. I browsed all the fruits, vegetables, honey, beeswax, and coffee stands before buying some dirt-cheap maple sugar products, including a 100-mL bottle of dark maple syrup small enough to take on the plane with me. </div>
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Seduced by the aroma of a nearby bakery stall, I bought two chocolate croissants--one for the early flight the next morning, don't judge me--and an apple strudel. Between the baked goods and the cappuccino that I subsequently bought, it was almost like being back in Europe.</div>
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<div>
I bought dinky little carry-on-sized bottles of ice wine to go with my travel-sized maple syrup. (Only to find out at the airport the next day that it was cheaper to buy ice wine duty-free. Plus I wouldn't have had to chuck half of my toiletries to get it through security. *sigh*)</div>
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<div>
We did a late lunch at Amsterdam Brewhouse down by the water. Yummy beer, yummy pretzel (with a really tasty sauce that I've forgotten the name of but I remember was made from some of the leftovers from the brewing process), yummy sweet potato fries, yummy cheesecake. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="198" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/kJgdz-h07IEtfIyqDFuPX6erP6YY1ez7-Hql2L0lB_iai5Af_QC-IhYkFGi9qFvcI2oCUqrv0v0Ur1ln-0kyzkZMILVp5NuoI3DmNqefvsHTaAx-YywRH8RgiFp7NC7GFL7jWdowWqncUElq0owmvQkX8o9syrEHKfGXZRukgjLa6rBcXowfPE96BHwkiNT7aThn2v97vdWXbq52vgg-boI75Hmu4NcK8D2Kd25SP7bZDNi21atwWBg8IURcdO_4doInPum1h34zHPGz6juGBu_bIDhHBTOvOKMJx6rRBNklrxhlUB1kQ1hbajHLMY-pamIS8BRKBCBFUQfffQv_6hUt3Vja583tFscDlZmCennXhXWmY9d2booCw3VZDfoU6ghjAP092cppw4i2gUWh-S31S0JDDlI-MnVJFj0hSsLPDwTuKYlVTqfopKHs3lyHgICSlJqXAEx2i7NylxzC5qX3zVEOPEDilQY5lLbHBBc11thXKEfaaNWopSJEMZCFS9L0ibnU2jFMVSbIke-9rv9912iILgd1XS-y4DITfjH5Gd18YFmPzLLes-y41NOJG18O6zcD9MhmrYCoRZSwNqfIVhfjxTxqBaQIo0l2=w1547-h769-no" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left to right: 3 Speed Lager, Natural Blonde Lager, Raspberry Wheat Beer,<br />
and a pilsner brewed in a small batch onsite.</td></tr>
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We had decided to save CN tower, one of the most touristy of tourist attractions in Toronto, for the last evening in the city. Conveniently, it was only a couple of blocks away from the Amsterdam Brewhouse, so a short walk later, we were standing in a very long line.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/TCNDIFbJ3JReb6MsmbohS2kP-YfVV0ZhSz3goC5SAfQJlov4YXVlI-WWCuHukYZYrUJwUi5p1lBhrCDMB3kf2iEt0RGdBkATgFB0kvEt0qfzjWYnZAWVlCRzzJty0ZMAtVsntKWNoOEm3as039jdSMr_hEavvjLsQqgZrkJVBcTiODboARJUuaHWK8Ac6jVEEdQ6zHSs1nMVe8C8eYIcel2ANKxHI9TDEZ89p8jhY0o-t_CwQYELhQDM8sAp0Ckf_9GhvZrg5SEM043nMXFPp3FfAaZH2kOwRR22zOUhS88EwatscIYr0UvAskEnom67h53eXJakL29tds-cVW_M4-1BM2lDAtL2z1_CBTqQA0Jw2BiiktaNM8dPRgMiE_I-U5UIV5p8kKwEwsckXqyFZxoFn1WAxdoz0u-Z810kgR6sVFF9u83k6CuAI8WWD7WC00fcEDunij3Y2urcgLtaUc6lZGBacuA3Qjfkj5H01W0j5Ks-GpjFGSzAqlgQhcT9ujbvn2Tb215Hp24NS6dB38mFiSUIvt1xciRYiLGa-I5AauezA0MhMeJzuwJglMwFDsIK1KIb5SXV2SbKTuU8zvO9Hr1CoZK0kZRlCAXm=w256-h769-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/TCNDIFbJ3JReb6MsmbohS2kP-YfVV0ZhSz3goC5SAfQJlov4YXVlI-WWCuHukYZYrUJwUi5p1lBhrCDMB3kf2iEt0RGdBkATgFB0kvEt0qfzjWYnZAWVlCRzzJty0ZMAtVsntKWNoOEm3as039jdSMr_hEavvjLsQqgZrkJVBcTiODboARJUuaHWK8Ac6jVEEdQ6zHSs1nMVe8C8eYIcel2ANKxHI9TDEZ89p8jhY0o-t_CwQYELhQDM8sAp0Ckf_9GhvZrg5SEM043nMXFPp3FfAaZH2kOwRR22zOUhS88EwatscIYr0UvAskEnom67h53eXJakL29tds-cVW_M4-1BM2lDAtL2z1_CBTqQA0Jw2BiiktaNM8dPRgMiE_I-U5UIV5p8kKwEwsckXqyFZxoFn1WAxdoz0u-Z810kgR6sVFF9u83k6CuAI8WWD7WC00fcEDunij3Y2urcgLtaUc6lZGBacuA3Qjfkj5H01W0j5Ks-GpjFGSzAqlgQhcT9ujbvn2Tb215Hp24NS6dB38mFiSUIvt1xciRYiLGa-I5AauezA0MhMeJzuwJglMwFDsIK1KIb5SXV2SbKTuU8zvO9Hr1CoZK0kZRlCAXm=w256-h769-no" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The second tallest free-standing tower in the world.<br />
(The tallest tower in the world from 1974-2010.)</td></tr>
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In spite of the wait, we managed to make it to the observation deck in time for the sunset.</div>
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<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/AwaZwtD4sI_r8p-L_o2rk7VrP3MoHUfUwgbJ7e4xwRMlEPZm4aimbFv1h-8Vbn9YU6ZUYprzFWqI-JEuaPXVG_zHX1X-ni85ttu_5QskomJyWzlT6AreAPnaR6UFLm3Kc5VL88a0dkx2VOwaMPl1v6P2xDs1sV0MAXdmHjkFUtANoiEsLRFHmXuFgSHjoW93zPMz700Vra-Mg2knQk1J1rjGIXn9vnWG8I_fk2W3CkVhtWlGRcUENLOYW0eLqIlnA1dffmBoxjLMwEvMLumteAjPYScci_GwTZ41BhGplbjUlrggD6urY2itqEBK7ipZOah74oGd3KE6MzM4Mu8mr7far012H9ijrDB52jLBCluoFQYuaxrxjwDHIpV17lStf5R3b49GGDhDaK_LQqW6CaOpV4czYnrlgTQ5ayr_i2pNDAeIWqcceotiKlVzTpjxxtzJh261SLsyTppcK3fFwGmWuFH1YT7efGyC3ILLv3qvmSNujA9P4Qa8SOLlJsQNf3o9J6aws7WlW30WRMhwKmmWNI2EJcK22eoONZUhE4VG1H1RNZdXxW8SbjydjQK7Rnc672xwLUV7HB5_krbzCP37_nxYzGRKBHcmqXYR=w1368-h769-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/AwaZwtD4sI_r8p-L_o2rk7VrP3MoHUfUwgbJ7e4xwRMlEPZm4aimbFv1h-8Vbn9YU6ZUYprzFWqI-JEuaPXVG_zHX1X-ni85ttu_5QskomJyWzlT6AreAPnaR6UFLm3Kc5VL88a0dkx2VOwaMPl1v6P2xDs1sV0MAXdmHjkFUtANoiEsLRFHmXuFgSHjoW93zPMz700Vra-Mg2knQk1J1rjGIXn9vnWG8I_fk2W3CkVhtWlGRcUENLOYW0eLqIlnA1dffmBoxjLMwEvMLumteAjPYScci_GwTZ41BhGplbjUlrggD6urY2itqEBK7ipZOah74oGd3KE6MzM4Mu8mr7far012H9ijrDB52jLBCluoFQYuaxrxjwDHIpV17lStf5R3b49GGDhDaK_LQqW6CaOpV4czYnrlgTQ5ayr_i2pNDAeIWqcceotiKlVzTpjxxtzJh261SLsyTppcK3fFwGmWuFH1YT7efGyC3ILLv3qvmSNujA9P4Qa8SOLlJsQNf3o9J6aws7WlW30WRMhwKmmWNI2EJcK22eoONZUhE4VG1H1RNZdXxW8SbjydjQK7Rnc672xwLUV7HB5_krbzCP37_nxYzGRKBHcmqXYR=w1368-h769-no" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/RVtfM2tMxGKMPSl1SXtbYetvgmRHTFdil2JigwHzBQLtpUa98DkS38NEgfuVqH1lLwldrwhT1PFlAakFCYreyo0IipGVQFWdR3uXEfa75QYiE078u9KgwMDsQQH32Uja6TguthabILVpRtTx_80s0bqfuQvkniYXB3s1h8XPSogr0sX-M0grytDLnnUnPonf6cPCfJgBhJR-qIBfcfG8sAC2Esu4a02TLd2pzOznp7wPc9qQg54tZpx3zB_frSPqiRe0JV7YKj4lP6I5t6ImmALVjIdkW8LEWMJLVWAT_MamRJ3wT6sUE_8_XyAoPIDIMH__ORghkIuvnsE5dZbDv-lUCxRKwZYjrEycX22d_UZLfxLEmNqjMZZ3zaVQPqWoRzpDiHOZpLWQFTgNNwUwBYl-YChvvtlIosoSYuTMYSl07ycCp-14oSRnuAuMwhAZXBYkVHpA53QGN11oLjyDqmO_AVzaurnAn60f0chSek26HnCnckgS_mz-jKqCajqwmaSe5eWVo2IY2tWnYAvoFPHgrSwjeq4KMhMwXBJUFdQmYp0YxxfCe-Dd59ColSV1qcJ_n78mL77YAvg0NWaWkEagYPKOEXzDgDT4B0hA=w1026-h769-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/RVtfM2tMxGKMPSl1SXtbYetvgmRHTFdil2JigwHzBQLtpUa98DkS38NEgfuVqH1lLwldrwhT1PFlAakFCYreyo0IipGVQFWdR3uXEfa75QYiE078u9KgwMDsQQH32Uja6TguthabILVpRtTx_80s0bqfuQvkniYXB3s1h8XPSogr0sX-M0grytDLnnUnPonf6cPCfJgBhJR-qIBfcfG8sAC2Esu4a02TLd2pzOznp7wPc9qQg54tZpx3zB_frSPqiRe0JV7YKj4lP6I5t6ImmALVjIdkW8LEWMJLVWAT_MamRJ3wT6sUE_8_XyAoPIDIMH__ORghkIuvnsE5dZbDv-lUCxRKwZYjrEycX22d_UZLfxLEmNqjMZZ3zaVQPqWoRzpDiHOZpLWQFTgNNwUwBYl-YChvvtlIosoSYuTMYSl07ycCp-14oSRnuAuMwhAZXBYkVHpA53QGN11oLjyDqmO_AVzaurnAn60f0chSek26HnCnckgS_mz-jKqCajqwmaSe5eWVo2IY2tWnYAvoFPHgrSwjeq4KMhMwXBJUFdQmYp0YxxfCe-Dd59ColSV1qcJ_n78mL77YAvg0NWaWkEagYPKOEXzDgDT4B0hA=w1026-h769-no" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm on top of the world!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/iMtRSkyhdqc5rddlCG8ZZ2ZEu_5JWAL_reqlDsefj1MwlgXNidNAYgXIU1wE_AYiu5B6EocWKNK8aktYcwEW_bGEdBOR-mMyNA09rZIpPvXjHh5PJMXV2fhPuYaTlJHsu9JaSwxxmr6X11m9YtQJ2x4Yx5fq2ROuEv3ojcH6Jk0PzoicxH00XCum910uBpZtubBGxWdVFgFu1rVY9G480MlSDirG60Dj8lZQwfzD3TpaQslQOXcPa4TMucLCKG-EzyjepYhSTph54UhswHW8oGIXEQ1Zm1tUOerXqgpGgzKP8BKiwuglz7Ini6I7hUbPe00oSRRhDX-QSx6RFnf8lcEO5xmInMktZYqe7QuFabe-IcwDKZZiEYf7IuAEc-DfcehpIdFhk3TjttIrhuLDTQtmPdDc6xsVqcZKA-XCcFff7I-MrHPq4ta4v1oxcOdX_hSFJBp8Gk9wYoFmuFn786ceLyabvwqVp0CShw_w8D89LGWzeFirbiOmnvw23XZZI_qbz1lBFvDd0kcLhMYAfWB234tr5_FYUQNrah7A83Ru2Okj3jfl-pJ9RjSNSlWMLOTSG2fL6VGKOIM5w77uEfKWwqO95_HqqpUoa-mo=w1368-h769-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/iMtRSkyhdqc5rddlCG8ZZ2ZEu_5JWAL_reqlDsefj1MwlgXNidNAYgXIU1wE_AYiu5B6EocWKNK8aktYcwEW_bGEdBOR-mMyNA09rZIpPvXjHh5PJMXV2fhPuYaTlJHsu9JaSwxxmr6X11m9YtQJ2x4Yx5fq2ROuEv3ojcH6Jk0PzoicxH00XCum910uBpZtubBGxWdVFgFu1rVY9G480MlSDirG60Dj8lZQwfzD3TpaQslQOXcPa4TMucLCKG-EzyjepYhSTph54UhswHW8oGIXEQ1Zm1tUOerXqgpGgzKP8BKiwuglz7Ini6I7hUbPe00oSRRhDX-QSx6RFnf8lcEO5xmInMktZYqe7QuFabe-IcwDKZZiEYf7IuAEc-DfcehpIdFhk3TjttIrhuLDTQtmPdDc6xsVqcZKA-XCcFff7I-MrHPq4ta4v1oxcOdX_hSFJBp8Gk9wYoFmuFn786ceLyabvwqVp0CShw_w8D89LGWzeFirbiOmnvw23XZZI_qbz1lBFvDd0kcLhMYAfWB234tr5_FYUQNrah7A83Ru2Okj3jfl-pJ9RjSNSlWMLOTSG2fL6VGKOIM5w77uEfKWwqO95_HqqpUoa-mo=w1368-h769-no" width="400" /></a></div>
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Back at ground level and once again seeking warm foods, we had dinner at Ravi Soups: apricot and red lentil soup with Ravi slaw (some sort of coleslaw-salad concoction with a spicy dressing) and a yummy cheddar biscuit before calling it a night.</div>
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<a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/f56UYrppnWPSW1-sR_gqXayZJXu2fnSA8Hab9xBX_OmgeI47aEKAgzKjzJbLa-II1LhbQQmUMnU01Hz3OyvLm10OzZX8us6Zz1riUy9wBkhzTPBnS6mweuLbJpmvSKWrTdsDZf0GsjeWEW4oA3hyelGZSV9yM1dZDMzxcjRylUgsGZ4eKaLIfg__NsHuLtH-HdZfLhx59O_tVzeFIAqWaUR6_4iDxVrJE71lyiRH5Da3ULKE5MDWFZEXMHDvKPNrKZiUuCg2AjTrnbG806slVOB2e9KvNC_xoqyPjEz1Kf0kv_5ts_F5a0h-3uMfB83g0OFfw-Ht8_F36War4acpTuOqnsrmT9CH4pQiPy_zcOtvJEVLJ5kGdZQxX5nsUB82lSrylGMI9sOseBnY9wOMEOzGxIqcixRTY_SJg7V8obEPhqPz8yCsGr0x0NgruhFwCVPy7KuNZZ8WPcnLcrOmRzrwWyIvEZQcknH5etVmjgyfVxPwiUiXFVwoeQmpLPZvY0Pn1ysmZ91y6yeOjIfvCxHdcgOM3PTq49DLeOYG0rJlRuvKHvbJRbRdrFEJKLCXAXKSnAiKmB4RNeQ4S5NFwbEx2T14Mhaap7sntroh=w1600-h708-no" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/f56UYrppnWPSW1-sR_gqXayZJXu2fnSA8Hab9xBX_OmgeI47aEKAgzKjzJbLa-II1LhbQQmUMnU01Hz3OyvLm10OzZX8us6Zz1riUy9wBkhzTPBnS6mweuLbJpmvSKWrTdsDZf0GsjeWEW4oA3hyelGZSV9yM1dZDMzxcjRylUgsGZ4eKaLIfg__NsHuLtH-HdZfLhx59O_tVzeFIAqWaUR6_4iDxVrJE71lyiRH5Da3ULKE5MDWFZEXMHDvKPNrKZiUuCg2AjTrnbG806slVOB2e9KvNC_xoqyPjEz1Kf0kv_5ts_F5a0h-3uMfB83g0OFfw-Ht8_F36War4acpTuOqnsrmT9CH4pQiPy_zcOtvJEVLJ5kGdZQxX5nsUB82lSrylGMI9sOseBnY9wOMEOzGxIqcixRTY_SJg7V8obEPhqPz8yCsGr0x0NgruhFwCVPy7KuNZZ8WPcnLcrOmRzrwWyIvEZQcknH5etVmjgyfVxPwiUiXFVwoeQmpLPZvY0Pn1ysmZ91y6yeOjIfvCxHdcgOM3PTq49DLeOYG0rJlRuvKHvbJRbRdrFEJKLCXAXKSnAiKmB4RNeQ4S5NFwbEx2T14Mhaap7sntroh=w1600-h708-no" width="400" /></a></div>
New Year's Eve day dawned way too ugly early. I say "dawned;" it was 3:45am when we got up to brave the -15°F weather and catch the bus to the airport. </div>
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The early flight home turned out to be not so early...the plane got delayed after we boarded because the bridge was frozen to the plane. LOL.</div>
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And thus concluded an international trip with only a minor mishap: leaving my library book on the plane. Oops.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-29508735338986964072017-12-25T14:56:00.000-05:002018-06-19T09:28:46.904-04:00Commuter Life (AKA Traffic on Traffic on Traffic)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Twice daily, I cruise I-695, with my CDs riding shotgun.</div>
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And by "cruise," I mean "drive somewhere near the speed limit about 12% of the time and sit in horrendous traffic 88% of the time."<br />
<br />
I spend a lot of time in the car these days. Since I leave my house by 6:45am, it typically takes about 25 minutes for me to get to my school. The way home can be rough, though. It can take anywhere from 25 minutes to an hour for me to get home from work.<br />
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And, man, do I get bored.<br />
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When I was a student, my options for in-car entertainment were limited: FM or AM. My 1991 Buick Regal had a faulty cassette player, and after it mangled three of the five cassettes I'd tracked down, I took the hint and stopped trying. Staticky radio it was.<br />
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Now that I have a car that's actually younger than me, the horizons of driver diversion have expanded exponentially. Not only have I tripled the number of radio presets available to me, I can play CDs (<i>gasp</i>)<i> </i>and even play music from my phone through Bluetooth (<i>double gasp</i>)!<br />
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I revel in the ability to listen to my CDs and Pandora stations, and typically alternate between the two in week-long phases. Currently, I'm on a neo-soul kick, featuring mainly Amy Winehouse, Fitz & the Tantrums, and the like.<br />
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Millenial that I am, I've tried many a podcast as well. But I have yet to find one that I can really get into.<br />
<br />
Recently though, I rediscovered the wonder that is an audiobook.<br />
<br />
When I was a kid and my family went on road trips, we listened almost exclusively to the Harry Potter series. It was pretty much the only thing we could agree on. Plus, we'd all read the books, so if one (or more) of us dozed off in the middle and missed a chapter or two, it wasn't a big deal.<br />
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It's crazy how lost you can get in a good book, even when you're driving. My commute flies by for the two or three weeks that an audiobook lasts me.<br />
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<a href="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1466835008l/23305614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for finding audrey" border="0" height="320" src="https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1466835008l/23305614.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
Here are a few of my recommendations for audiobooks, if you're interested:<br />
<ol style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/81h3JmyyP5L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for still alice book" border="0" height="320" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/81h3JmyyP5L.jpg" width="195" /></a>
<li style="text-align: left;"><b>The <i>Harry Potter </i>series.</b> Obviously. Even if you've read them before, listening to them is a great experience. Jim Dale does a great job with all the voices throughout the series. </li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><b><i>Finding Audrey</i> by Sophie Kinsella. </b>I like a lot of Sophie Kinsella's books...they're light, easy reads, and they can be pretty hilarious at times. (The humor in her novels has been likened to that of the classic <i>I Love Lucy</i>, which y'all already know I'm a fan of.) This one is her first young adult novel, and actually one of the first audiobooks that I listened to "cold" (without having read the book first). It's about a teenage girl, Audrey, who, as a result of her anxiety, wears sunglasses constantly (it helps her avoid eye contact and feel safe). The cast of supporting characters are rather ridiculous, but in an authentic way. Plus, there's just something about having someone read to you in a British accent. </li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><b><i>Still Alice</i> by Lisa Genova. </b>This book is set in New England, and it's clear that the author (who reads her own book aloud to you) is also from that part of the country. Still, her accent is only a tad distracting, because the story itself is so compelling. It's told from the perspective of the title character, a Harvard professor diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. I don't want to spoil anything, in case any of y'all decide to read (or listen to) it, so I won't say much more. Definitely recommend this one, though. Lots of feels, and lots to think about.</li>
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I usually get audiobooks from the library in CD format; I haven't tried Audible myself, but I know you can download audiobooks in mp3 format with them if that's more your thing.<br />
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Been wanting to write this post for a while now, so my Christmas present to myself was actually setting aside some time to blog. Hope y'all enjoyed reading it.☺<br />
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Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year if I don't post again before then!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Holidays from my family to yours!</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-73664914228570473722017-10-30T20:25:00.003-04:002017-10-30T20:26:14.159-04:00Lies I Tell My StudentsHonesty is the best policy, right?<br />
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Wrong. If you work with children, you tell them whatever it takes to get through the day.<br />
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<b>#1: "The principal is coming to watch YOU learn."</b><br />
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What I'm Really Saying: "She's here to watch me teach, so you'd better not act up."<br />
Does it work? ...eh.<br />
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<b>#2: "Yes, I'm grading this."</b><br />
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What I'm Really Saying: "Like I have time to grade every single little scrap of paper that you write on over the course of a school day. Do your work anyway."<br />
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<b>#3: "We had a rough start to our day, but you did a great job of turning it around, so I'm going to give you back the recess you lost."</b><br />
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What I'm Really Saying: "It's a really nice day and I want to be outside. So even though you were horrible this morning, we're having recess."<br />
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<b>#4: "I'm not going to repeat these instructions. Listen carefully so you will know what to do."</b><br />
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What I'm really saying: "I'm going to say these directions six times, but you still aren't going to listen to them, and then you're going to call across the room when I'm working with a small group that you don't know what to do. And then I'm going to lose it."<br />
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<b>#5: "I don't listen to tattles."</b><br />
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What I'm Really Saying: "I'll listen to your tattle, because one time you told me that so-and-so said the S-word, and that S-word turned out to be 'stupid,' and I need a funny story to tell at happy hour later."<br />
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**If you know me at all, you know that this is all highly satirical. And yet, I feel obligated to say so because some people take things WAY too seriously. To those people, I say:<br />
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Alternate title for this post: Jess Goes Overboard with Teacher Memes.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-10254762204204192312017-10-09T22:11:00.003-04:002017-10-23T13:00:06.083-04:00I Lied.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Okay, so remember way back to a month ago, when I promised that I would be posting again soon? Well, "soon," it turns out, is a relative term.<br />
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The first five weeks of school have simultaneously flown by and dragged on. Noteworthy incidents include:<br />
<ul>
<li>A student cutting his own hair on the third day of school;</li>
<li>Vomit (luckily into a trash can, but it was a close one);</li>
<li>Finding out that one of my students knew literally ZERO English (and of course, I knew ever-so-slightly-more-than-ZERO Spanish);</li>
<li>One student cussing out another student (who had told the first student that his hair looked like noodles);</li>
<li>Two nosebleeds from two separate students on the same day (unrelated...I think);</li>
<li>A decidedly failed experiment in which my students chose their own seats;</li>
<li>And countless technical difficulties.</li>
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To sum it up, a rather eventful first month.<br />
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To say that I am tired would be a vast understatement. To say that I am frazzled would be an understatement of mythical proportions.<br />
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I mean, I knew that the first year of teaching would be tough, to say the least, but....the metaphor that I'm using at the moment is that I am just barely treading water. My head frequently dips below the surface, I feel like I'm drowning, and I'm going literally nowhere but somehow I'm still floating.<br />
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Too much negativity? I concur. I just had to get that off my chest.<br />
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And now for what I love about my job:<br />
<ul>
<li>The hugs that I started getting from my students on the second day of school.</li>
<li>Math. (I hated it as a student, but I LOVE teaching it!)</li>
<li>Writing positive post-it notes to my students (on a semi-regular basis) and watching their faces light up when they read them first thing in the morning.</li>
<li>Posting teaching memes in the faculty bathroom. (And only one other person knows that it's me doing it...heeheehee.) This one got the most laughs:</li>
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<li>My classroom. It's chaotic, but it's my own personal disaster zone.</li>
<li>STAR time (<u>S</u>tudents and <u>T</u>eachers <u>A</u>ll <u>R</u>eading) at the end of the day. I'm reading my class <i>Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone</i>, and even though it feels like nobody is listening sometimes, they always ask me at the end of each day whether we're reading <i>Harry Potter </i>today. 😊 Now if I could just get them as excited about the stuff in the curriculum, we'd be in business.</li>
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Anyway. That's it for now. It's about 3 hours past when I wanted to be in bed. Just wanted to let y'all know that I'm still alive.<br />
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Ish.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-49630450071332111722017-09-05T20:32:00.001-04:002017-09-05T20:32:32.380-04:00First-Day Thoughts From a Slightly Frazzled First-Year TeacherBack by popular demand...it's your favorite travel-blogger-turned-working-schmuck!<br />
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What up blogiverse? It's been a while. (As my mom has repeatedly told me, both in person and in comments here.) Just so y'all know, I <i>started</i> like 7 different posts over the summer, none of which <i>quite</i> made it to the finish line. These will be turned into one giant mega-post in the not-too-distant future--I promise!--so stay tuned for that.</div>
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Anyway, here goes with a brain dump of the thoughts that crossed my mind over the course of my very first day as a full-time teacher:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obligatory first day of school picture.</td></tr>
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<ul>
<li>I know I'm forgetting something.</li>
<li>I can do this. I can do this. </li>
<li>Of course, I got a new student at 9:14 in the morning. There's still a full minute before the kids will be walking in the door.</li>
<li>Damn, I got good at learning names!</li>
<li>What am I forgetting?</li>
<li>Those shoes are cute...wonder if they make them in my size? </li>
<li>When's lunch?</li>
<li>Man, these kids can't stop talking. </li>
<li>Yes...lunch time!</li>
<li>Crap, lunch is over already?</li>
<li>Man, these kids really can't stop talking. </li>
<li>I <i>know </i>I'm forgetting something.</li>
<li>Well, I hope everyone got on the right bus. </li>
<li>Wow, the day just flew by. </li>
<li>Wow, we got nothing done today.</li>
<li>*big exhale* I made it. </li>
</ul>
I was astonished to find that I actually wasn't that nervous. I mean, sure, I had a few first-day butterflies, but no panic whatsoever. I guess knowing that I was as prepared as I was going to be made it possible for me to just focus on my students when they arrived.<br />
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It probably also helped that I had my (many) mishaps when I was in Europe. At the apparent insistence of the universe, I learned that even when shit happens, I'll get through it.<br />
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A healthy attitude for a teacher to have, I guess.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-65640674445385254322017-07-09T10:48:00.003-04:002017-07-09T10:48:59.920-04:00The Camping Trip That Was, and a Flurry of InterviewsAround the time of the solstice, Evan and I kind of spontaneously went camping in Shenandoah National Park. I say "kind of" because Evan had been planning the trip for about a week and a half, but I had somehow missed the memo. Much scrambling to pack ensued as a result, but I managed not to forget anything major.<br />
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We got on the road right after work and--in spite of a pit stop for s'mores makings--found ourselves on Skyline Drive in time for the sunset, which was about as picturesque as it sounds.<br />
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Slightly less picturesque was our dinner that evening: canned soup eaten by the light from our headlamps. (By the time we got the tent set up, it was dark dark dark.)<br />
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It was pretty chilly up on the mountain, so we slept pretty well. So well, in fact, that we were unable to wrest ourselves from our sleeping bags until almost 9:00am. So much for getting an early start on our day of hiking. Since our early start was already shot entirely to heck, we decided we might as well linger over breakfast.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS3skauT1DAr6TOVge9zVCLZJc4-IUruBK97eJ5MkxgeDuJSgJC1E7_bMVL328RjOeUUmEst2v6s6AHIUe2zBIRqHiVKEzOaXhAOiNopEgn4LuM-_pIV-oWHE-MEJImGkJU4yZyTNVEY4F/s1600/20170622_092739+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS3skauT1DAr6TOVge9zVCLZJc4-IUruBK97eJ5MkxgeDuJSgJC1E7_bMVL328RjOeUUmEst2v6s6AHIUe2zBIRqHiVKEzOaXhAOiNopEgn4LuM-_pIV-oWHE-MEJImGkJU4yZyTNVEY4F/s400/20170622_092739+%25281%2529.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast of hiking champions.</td></tr>
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We finally left the campsite around 10:30. After a brief stop to get a map from the ranger station--no cell service <i>*gasp!*</i>--we were on our way to Old Rag Mountain, one of my all-time favorite hikes. Thanks to my killer navigational skills, we made it there without any wrong turns or stopping to ask for directions.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuDE8D9evaFAFyxpM0yQGewB90GrbI27ja5ovWTMn6RAaFREKQ2sUed3fU9DVJQDzLPCFmDv_NILxGAmfgL-WBmOw4vmUbTfDU_yci9tsYwg4YZgLfuT1BzzRKEdtrIzyq8s7_a-YjEbx-/s1600/20170622_120843%25280%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuDE8D9evaFAFyxpM0yQGewB90GrbI27ja5ovWTMn6RAaFREKQ2sUed3fU9DVJQDzLPCFmDv_NILxGAmfgL-WBmOw4vmUbTfDU_yci9tsYwg4YZgLfuT1BzzRKEdtrIzyq8s7_a-YjEbx-/s400/20170622_120843%25280%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh-faced at the start of the hike!</td></tr>
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Since it was a Thursday, we had the mountain pretty much to ourselves, aside from a family with several kids, one of whom swore up and down he'd seen a black bear. (In a disappointing turn of events, we saw no such bear. This will go down in history as the only time that I have visited Shenandoah without seeing at least one bear.)<br />
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As we approached the rock scramble to the summit, we were both dying a little bit (okay, a lot of bit). Apparently walking 10-plus miles around European cities for 4.5 months does not keep one in shape enough to climb a mountain. Who knew?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Just leave me here."</td></tr>
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Nevertheless, we persisted, and made it to the summit.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm occasionally capable of taking a decent picture. </td></tr>
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We wound our way back down, and made our triumphant return to the campsite. Evan pulled out all the stops when making dinner that night: crispy salmon with orzo and broccoli. It was one of those meals that I was halfway through before I thought to take a picture, so I'll have to just leave it up to your imagination.<br />
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We lounged by the fire after dinner, me making s'more after s'more while Evan made healthy life decisions.<br />
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No regrets.<br />
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After a little bit of stargazing, we crawled into the tent and were asleep within minutes. Of course, we woke right up a few hours later when the tent threatened to blow away.<br />
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It's so much harder to sleep through a tropical storm when there's only a thin layer of fabric between you and it.<br />
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We finally gave up trying to sleep around 6:00am, and, after fighting the gale-force winds to pack up the tent, decided that trying to cook breakfast would be more trouble than it was worth. So we put my navigational prowess to use once again, and headed towards home.<br />
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Our phones started buzzing shortly before a Wawa came into sight (the first sign of civilization!).<br />
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Evan immediately Googled "breakfast near me" and came up with Frost Diner, right across the intersection from the Wawa. The diner didn't look like much, inside or out, but we could tell from the seats packed with locals (even at 9:30am on a work day) that it was going to be good.<br />
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We each ordered a #4: three ginormous pancakes, three eggs, a pile of potatoes, and a side of bacon and sausage (both of which went to Evan).<br />
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Needless to say, we were stuffed. (Also needless to say, I forgot to take a picture before tearing into it.)<br />
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We made it back home before noon, and decided that it was a beautiful day to wash our cars. Of course, by the time Tuesday rolled around, my car was no longer sparkling clean.<br />
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What was significant about Tuesday, you ask? Well, that fateful Tuesday was the day that I had three (count 'em) job interviews lined up.<br />
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I'm getting really good at bragging about myself.<br />
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And now, two weeks (and five interviews) later, I have a full-time teaching job lined up for the fall! I'm going to be signing up for benefits and everything. #adulting<br />
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Third grade, here I come!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-66403159911862412672017-06-20T08:52:00.003-04:002017-06-20T08:52:32.380-04:00Hire Me! (Please?)Guess what? Your favorite blogger has a summer job!<br />
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If you had asked me about a week ago what my summer plans were, my answer would've been "a whole lot of nothing." I wanted to enjoy my summer, dammit. But then I spent an entire Saturday doing absolutely nothing and realized that if I tried to spend the whole summer that way, I would be stir-freaking-crazy. Not to mention the fact that I would blow through what little savings I have managed to accumulate since coming home from Europe.<br />
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So I decided that I might want to be employed this summer after all.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDSduilLl2UD9iIs5iSLJCy5sJf4jWQiYKlPFwBZeR1woHA2csANtZaan2ohME0FHwPDunqkEgSx0vma198OUgfsNcOQvgkh-e4Xp4zDbvdpNfKj-VHsClYsXQFzv0FU6d7k9RkzklhE9/s1600/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="490" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDSduilLl2UD9iIs5iSLJCy5sJf4jWQiYKlPFwBZeR1woHA2csANtZaan2ohME0FHwPDunqkEgSx0vma198OUgfsNcOQvgkh-e4Xp4zDbvdpNfKj-VHsClYsXQFzv0FU6d7k9RkzklhE9/s400/giphy.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
First, I thought of jobs I'd previously held: the last two summers, I worked as a campus tour guide and answering phones in the admissions office at Towson. But since I'm no longer a student, neither of those is an option anymore. My next thought was returning to the daycare that I worked at for the two summers prior to the tour guide gig. But since I'll already be working with children nine months out of the year, doing so in the summer was extremely unappealing. And I've heard so many horror stories from friends who work in retail or restaurants that I had to rule those two sectors out as well.<br />
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I might be getting a job, but I'm not getting one that will make me miserable.<br />
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Around the time that I was brainstorming possible not-life-sucking summer jobs, Evan and I were planning to do the "treetop adventure" course where his sister works. Serendipitously (is that a word?), she mentioned that they were hiring. So I sent in my resume, and within five days, I was hired.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trust me, I'm a professional.</td></tr>
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I feel like I'm getting used to the whole interviewing thing. Which isn't to say that I don't still get nervous; of course I still get nervous. But it's no longer the debilitating, burst-into-tears-in-the-hallway-beforehand brand of nervousness. Now it's just a little bit of tension; once I actually start answering the interview questions, I'm actually fine. Fake-it-till-you-make-it: surprisingly effective!<br />
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As for my school-year job prospects: I've been on about eight or so interviews, but so far...nada. The typical timing for a new teacher getting hired is sometime in July. As in next month. As in five whole months after I sent in my application.<br />
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So. Much. Waiting.<br />
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I just want to know where I'm going to be and what grade I'm going to be teaching, that way I can start planning lessons, getting things for my classroom, and--oh, I don't know--figuring out where I'm going to live starting this fall. *sigh*<br />
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I know it's all going to work out. I'm not worried, per se...I just feel very in limbo at the moment, not having any of that figured out.<br />
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Hopefully the employment gods smile upon me soon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8313946325569725773.post-2091957560137451372017-06-19T08:55:00.000-04:002017-06-19T08:55:05.037-04:00What's the Opposite of a Green Thumb?Answer: Jess's thumb.<br />
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My track record for gardening is rather grim: I kill pretty much every plant that I attempt to grow. Sometimes I forget to water them for days at a time, but usually what happens is I water them too much, worried that I forgot to water them the day before.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cause of death: an excess of love.</td></tr>
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Because you always want what you can't have, I want SO badly to be a successful gardener. I have this mental image of myself wearing a floppy straw hat and overalls, carrying baskets laden with homegrown fruits, veggies, and flowers as I walk barefoot through neat rows of flourishing plants.</div>
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I know. I'm ridiculous.<br />
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I think part of it is that I love productive hobbies. I took up knitting while I was traveling partially because it was something to do on all of the trains, buses, and planes I spent hours on, but also because I had something to show for it around Christmas time.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See the scarf my aunt is wearing? Yeah, I made that. (No big deal.)</td></tr>
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Gardening is another one of those productive hobbies: you put in the work, you get yummy food and pretty flowers. Bam.<br />
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My great-grandfather had a substantial garden, which my grandparents and great-uncle still maintain. When I was younger, we would spend a few days there every summer, and we would be put to work, pulling weeds, watering, and harvesting the produce. Each night, we would eat the fruits (and vegetables) of our labors.<br />
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My family has a decent-sized backyard garden these days. More often than not, it's been kind of an overgrown mishmash of squash, bean, and tomato plants, all of which produce far more than we could ever eat by ourselves. We've also had a few incidents of accidental gardening: the seeds from something in the compost heap sprout in the garden, and the mystery plant thrives amidst all of the intentionally-cultivated plants. <br />
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To me, there's just something so appealing about growing your own food. You're so connected to the process: you know exactly what went into the food that you're eating. Fruits and vegetables from the grocery store are always a bit of a question mark in that respect.<br />
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Homegrown foods also just taste so much better than mass-produced, sat-on-a-truck-for-500-plus-miles, grocery-store produce. (Saving money is just an added bonus.)<br />
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So I'm giving this gardening thing another shot. I'm currently attempting to grow carrots, sunflowers, peppermint, spearmint, and wildflowers in my family's garden. The sunflowers are doing the best so far (they're fairly hardy plants, thank goodness), but the mint isn't doing too bad, either. The carrots, well...too soon to say.<br />
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Stay tuned to find out whether I can break the curse of the non-green-thumb! Feel free to share any gardening tips or stories that you have. ☺Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0