tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16981984112956235972012-02-17T15:25:26.443-07:00Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.comBlogger1231100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-382027552216290132012-02-09T20:51:00.000-07:002012-02-09T21:47:03.003-07:00

2012, I'm sorry I just posted that sentence about how you're stupid. That was obviously unfair to you. It's just, you know. February.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-1246796636373992492012-01-10T23:18:00.000-07:002012-01-11T14:14:00.920-07:00

Let's just jump right into the year and not dwell on how this blog is made of sugar and spice and broken promises. It's 2012 now, and maybe it's the apocalyptic overtones or the numerical roundness that I love, but I'm feeling so good about it! I have a birthday a week and a half before every new year, so it's just all especially fresh. The new year's weather has been particularly lovable -- so

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-71966111700249156992011-11-08T23:46:00.000-07:002011-11-08T23:46:22.189-07:00

I hope this doesn't breach some kind of unspoken confidentiality agreement between Elliot Cat and I. He's our little thumb-sucker.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-73203148233095230492011-11-07T00:38:00.000-07:002011-11-08T23:46:37.496-07:00

Sock Bun is very adaptable. Here, Sock Bun goes to church. Featured in front of Tropical Dream, the paint of my heart, the color of my dreams. Also sharing the mirror with silhouettes cut out at Carly's dream wedding reception. Wouldn't Sock Bun make the best silhouette? I'd also like to take this opportunity to remember Pumpky Booster II, who went the way of all the earth today. He was a

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-63206147224950154482011-11-06T02:26:00.000-07:002011-11-07T02:38:24.041-07:00

1) Yellow kitchen wall. This past spring we painted two walls of our living room a pale aqua and fell in love with it. The color of the paint, I mean. Sometimes Chris walks in the room and I'm just standing against the wall trying to hug it. The wall, I mean, with the paint on it. It's hard to do. Also instead of a 50-gallon water barrel for disaster preparedness we filled a 50-gallon drum with

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-30761511056272132572011-11-05T01:58:00.000-06:002011-11-07T02:34:48.069-07:00

Tonight was a Downton Abbey night. I'm kind of passionate about how much I love this show, and I'll add something about why tomorrow, but it's so late and I'm so tired and I have a cat lying on my stomach sucking his thumb. But let it never be said that I did not post tonight.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-51743126363562844632011-11-04T02:17:00.000-06:002011-11-08T00:59:45.801-07:00

I had no expectation of this tutorial working for me, but my hair was in bad shape, we were trying to get out the door, and within two minutes I had cut a sock, rolled it down a hasty pony-tail, and had this lovely pastry-looking concoction perched atop my head. Pre-concert side-view Sock Bun. Dr. Dog at the Bluebird in Bloomington. They were a party. My ears are still ringing.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-45840277262588523642011-11-03T02:49:00.000-06:002011-11-08T22:27:39.729-07:00

I've been so neglecting my social responsibility as a West Coast Midwesterner.  I had no idea what to expect when Chris and I drove across the Mississippi for my first time, and I'm well aware that many of my friends and loved ones in southern California have only vague, unexamined ideas about what life might look like in Indiana. Or is it Iowa? Illinois? A few hours from New York, right?

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-12026180872881067222011-11-02T02:03:00.000-06:002011-11-04T11:47:13.411-06:00

I'm just going to ease into this. One sentence yesterday, a few more today. It is really difficult to make myself write something and post it, for whatever reasons, but I'm hoping I can fake it/make it into feeling comfortable doing this really uncomfortable thing. It's been the usual -- all kinds of things that want to make their way onto paper, something damming up the flow, my brain sputtering

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-55982519199242927742011-11-01T13:14:00.000-06:002011-11-01T13:14:01.762-06:00

It's NaBloPoMo time.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-61666700633465478492011-08-11T07:04:00.010-06:002011-08-11T14:37:27.009-06:00

- It's morning, and after some consternation, I've managed to slip the metal hook of my overall strap firmly over the button on the bib.  OshKosh B'gosh. My parents are in the room around the corner, dimly bobbing atop their waterbed. I walk in, bursting with pride. Just wait til they see what I've done now. - I can't fall asleep, so I get out of bed and walk out to the living room to let Mom

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-4835244039873419532011-06-14T13:53:00.006-06:002011-08-11T07:29:02.142-06:00

The state of my purse is usually somewhat indicative of the state of my mind and the rest of my life. Lately I've found myself wilfully leaving it in pretty bad shape. I could put that floating dollar back in my wallet, and remove the crunched-to-smithereens-within-its-wrapper Nature Valley bar, and clean out the receipts, and, I don't know, pull some of the hair out of my mini hairbrush? Too

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-69747073540767950582011-06-07T08:52:00.013-06:002011-06-07T13:04:04.351-06:00

I like Britney's latest club jam. You know the one? (Keep on dancing) "Till the World Ends." Appreciating a danceable beat lets me love a bunch of songs that make my husband crinkle his brow in confusion. (Not unrelated, I once had a study abroad thing with a house DJ/finance major from Switzerland, and I came home not hating house music. Shhh.) Dance songs of this variety have mostly the same

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-64173836186449169542011-05-23T13:27:00.003-06:002011-05-23T22:05:57.414-06:00

This is called cross-stream personal brand management, or something, I'm sure. But this is what I have to give right now. A facebook album! Which leaves a huge gap between the last album, which ended in 2009, and this one, which covers only the past month or two, and don't think I'm OCD-free enough to leave it this way for long. You might think I hadn't been alive for two years, or worse, that I

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-37015544055277537722011-04-29T12:10:00.006-06:002011-04-29T14:45:02.348-06:00

ENG W365 THEOR & PRACTICES OF EDITING Grade Report for Kristin M. LastName Course Grade A+ (99.4%) Gradebook Items On-screen Editing Points - 10/10 Test #1 Points - 30/30 Test #2 Points - 29.4/30 Test #3 Points - 30/30 This is the most obnoxious thing to be posting, right? Flashes of my 7th grade self, who tried to impress Matt Edwards in pre-Algebra by calling across the room in front

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-27643710271034284762011-02-28T09:36:00.006-07:002012-01-24T00:17:36.990-07:00

At nine years old and as the oldest child, I had fairly limited exposure to pop culture. I was a big fan of the Mickey Mouse Club and Kids Incorporated, but I wouldn't see my first music video -- "I Saw the Sign" -- until fifth grade. My favorite music could be classified pretty safely as "oldies." I'd swiped a few cassettes out of the family cassette basket that featured drive-ins on the cover

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-14891547434649233152011-02-23T14:10:00.011-07:002012-01-24T00:18:16.883-07:00

For a few years when I was a kid, I spent half a week or so of my summer at my Grandma Murry’s house in Glendale. My family made the short drive to see her and other L.A.-area cousins and family fairly often, but these weeks were special, because it was just me. My grandma’s house perched near the top of a street in the (San Rafael?) hills, with a beautifully tended backyard garden overlooking a

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-65409487222516034662011-02-14T13:06:00.001-07:002011-02-16T09:36:36.605-07:00

I dream of walks by the sea, but today, blue skies with puffy white clouds, melting snow, and a breeze that's just barely chilly are quite enough for me.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-62895979209419003012011-02-09T23:04:00.002-07:002011-02-09T23:14:41.377-07:00

I've been working in a state government office since last June. We'll talk about what I'm doing sometime, but right now the point is that I'm doing most of it in a cube. No need to re-write Dilbert, but cubes are the worst. The. Worst. I am a wilting hydrangea in there. All the computer screen-staring and windowless fluorescent lighting have, along with a few other difficulties attached to

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-24956829304524597572011-02-08T07:53:00.008-07:002011-02-09T17:44:50.829-07:00

Someone abandoned a cardboard box full of kittens in a mall parking lot last week, just before the beginning of the ice storm. They were found by a security officer who happened to be a soft-hearted guy who took them all home temporarily, and kept them cosy in the bathroom away from the two territorial cats who already lived there. His daughter, my friend Debbie, posted this picture of them on

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-54513764633754392592011-01-31T21:23:00.006-07:002011-02-08T08:09:36.161-07:00

The Midwest is in the middle of a shut-everything-down ice storm, which doesn't mean hail or sleet or whatever I thought it meant -- it just means rain, but it becomes ice on contact. It takes less than an hour for a car to become an impenetrable igloo. Inside, we're having a private pizza and cards party to celebrate the Ice Storm of the Decade and Chris Passing his Licensing Boards Part I

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-21659230770240307692011-01-28T06:59:00.007-07:002011-01-31T14:12:29.336-07:00

Husband is pretty busy with school, but he manages to make a bit of time for things he loves. Digging through the occasional bin of used vinyls for steals (and CDs! We're still zealously amassing CDs over here!), a few minutes on the guitar/piano/glockenspiel, playing me every favoritenewsongorartist he's just discovered, finding every live show we could possibly make it to, music blogging with

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-76051691063109268422011-01-27T10:12:00.011-07:002011-01-27T10:37:25.145-07:00

Google search is an internet tool that's helpful for finding things out. You just type in some words about what you want to know, and then it gives you a lot of websites that might have what you're looking for. You may already know how to use Google, but if you don't then it's literally impossible for you to find it, so I'll just point you to the website, Google.com. I bet you're laughing about

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-13058234473424440242011-01-26T11:58:00.002-07:002011-01-26T12:04:04.510-07:00

One of the most manically excited, floating-on-air moments I can remember was my first time driving alone. I was 16 and three months, and I had just gotten my license. I’d been driving with my parents for what seemed like forever. My dad, in typical fashion, was a trusting, laid-back driving coach, except when I didn’t realize you shouldn’t change three lanes at once. When I drove with my mom,

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-71322354123996980402011-01-24T22:06:00.007-07:002011-01-28T08:07:38.044-07:00

Chris and I were in California for a small chunk of December and so obviously I couldn't blog for a month. What? Don't you remember how I wrote five posts in eight days before writing zero posts in a billion days? Wasn't that enough for you? Sigh, blog. SIGH. I haven't posted because I still have so many things to show & tell you about 2010 but I haven't felt like curating pictures and etcetera

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-12777547314621482042010-12-14T20:03:00.017-07:002010-12-20T01:13:30.275-07:00

I have good friends. Everyone thinks their friends are the best, and that’s the nice thing about friends. The supply isn’t particularly finite, and the requirements are a little different for everyone. We can all have such good friends! But actually, mine are the best. A good handful of them – several handfuls, actually? How many friends fit in a handful? -- knew me when I was a bobbed and

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-27402821763133640562010-12-13T08:08:00.009-07:002011-05-05T14:07:54.175-06:00

1.  The movie--"Inception"--ended late, around midnight. We were still a little off-balance from the surreal dream world we'd left in the theater when we walked outside and back into it. We were in one of those static electricity globes. The sky was high and murky, the asphalt shining around parking lot lamps. Clouds piling up from the horizon pulsed with flashes of light, buried. The raindrops

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-8204268475663595162010-12-09T17:33:00.018-07:002010-12-15T14:40:40.749-07:00

It's just, when you buy furniture, you tell yourself, that's it. That's the last sofa I'm gonna need. Whatever else happens, I've got that sofa problem handled. -Fight Club I've mentioned before that when we moved across the continent (3/4 of it) we did it hauling a bunch of junk. We had to haul a piano so there was no reason not to throw everything else in there, and we'd inherited an

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-20244494565693085942010-12-08T23:36:00.006-07:002010-12-15T11:19:13.153-07:00

I thought long and hard about titles for my catching-up-on-the-year series. This is definitely the best one. This year Chris and I spent a cozy, sometimes-snowy, sometimes-drizzly, sometimes-gorgeous Thanksgiving with my parents and my Aunt Elizabeth's beautiful family. We soaked up being in a city with hills and water and views -- Indianapolis is lovely, but so very flat. I keep telling people

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-60307712052495516002010-12-07T13:27:00.010-07:002010-12-09T00:34:57.417-07:00

It’s the end of the year, did you know? And I didn’t do the best job at telling you about things I was doing while I was doing them, partly because I have this odd hang-up about talking about good times on the blog. It’s weird. But mostly based on the premise that vacation photos are boring. Sorry! They’re usually a little boring! Also boring: talking about your conflicting feelings toward

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-55151621839153672032010-11-08T09:06:00.002-07:002010-11-23T08:54:06.867-07:00

Barely awake Kristin is not exactly a joy to be around. Chris deals with me every morning at 6:45, and for that he (and my mother before him) is definitely getting into heaven. (That's how heaven works.) This morning I didn't understand why I was being cajoled out of bed at 6:35, which is 10 minutes (and several hours) MUCH TOO EARLY. And semi-cognizant Kristin is apparently not only grumpy

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-14953442524417094832010-10-29T14:07:00.008-06:002010-11-02T13:34:05.964-06:00

I am against. I am strongly against. I hate them, in fact, with a very personal hatred, and I am not willing to hear their side of the story. I read a Reader's Digest article at some point (note: the Digest was responsible for a large percentage of my childhood education) that described with great authority how many germs are in and around your toilet, and how fecal matter is the worst thing in

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-458325478183215602010-10-26T21:23:00.016-06:002010-10-27T13:08:28.902-06:00

Last week on my drive home, one of the new routes I've been exploring took me down a stretch of road I'd never been on. The sky was grey and blustery and fresh after an afternoon thunderstorm, and one of the leaves showering the street slid through my open window to rest on the passenger seat. An invitation. The road curved, and one side opened up to a ramshackle cemetery, studded with trees and

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-2893787863115571782010-10-24T13:30:00.006-06:002010-10-27T16:14:35.922-06:00

Thanks, guys. I wasn't expecting the great e-mails and calls and requests about whether it was OK to re-post that last post. I tacked on How to Offend Everyone All at Once because I thought there were things in it to which people in both "camps" would take offense, but I was way off. I've never had so many people tell me I took the words out of their mouths, or gotten into so many real-life

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-63466669378773701012010-10-18T19:48:00.041-06:002010-10-27T16:10:54.408-06:00

I don't believe in being scared about the future, in worrying about the frightening aspects of society that are beyond our control. I sometimes do in spite of that, but what I believe in is doing good in our own little spheres, in rejecting ignorance and hatred, in working and preparing for the future but never fearing it. When I allow myself to worry, the things I worry about aren't usually the

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-68044274188179117252010-10-06T22:14:00.014-06:002010-10-19T09:53:09.466-06:00

Listen, blog. The bits and pieces of random days scattered haphazardly here are so unrepresentative of my life. I'd like to feel a little more connected to this space. I've also had intentions of spreading the Midwest love for you best coasters. So I'm going to see what I can do about the distance between us. Again. I've been whipping out my cell phone camera on Indy all the time lately.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-56430126793533277072010-09-01T13:52:00.004-06:002010-09-02T11:29:42.417-06:00

Webinar: “40 Ways to Use Time Effectively and Avoid Stress.” Presenter: Brian. I’m calling him Brian, because if I use his name he is definitely going to be reading this within three minutes. He’ll probably track me down anyway when he’s googling “walking quickly.” This is a summary of some of the many great tips Brian shared during this hour-long time management Webinar. As you'll see, he is

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-87821855867162292142010-08-31T12:09:00.015-06:002011-02-27T21:11:24.139-07:00

Sometimes I wonder if the world's so small that we can never get away from the sprawl living in the sprawl, dead shopping malls rise like mountains beyond mountains and there’s no end in sight I need the darkness someone please cut the lights. -Arcade Fire, Mountains Beyond Mountains I grew up in the suburbs. Suburb Nation -- southern California. Where the towns blend together into one big

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-13689537149709100052010-08-17T09:57:00.009-06:002010-08-17T16:37:15.124-06:00

Happiness, I’m told—I believe— is my choice, and I choose it. I would like it wrapped up in a bag and stuffed in a drawer and there for the peeking. I chose you! Stay here. (Stop mewling.) I wake with eyes open and fixed on the drawer, cracked for breathing —escaping. I rise. It hurts, and I know. I should just lie back down. Lie under the weight of days ahead and behind, beneath tiny

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-4474044299652201402010-08-06T07:44:00.005-06:002010-08-06T10:28:26.540-06:00

We are sitting at a stoplight near our neighborhood. It’s not the loveliest corner of town. A faded blue car idles in front of us, the rear window plastered with a long, trailing line of vinyl stick-figures – big people, progressively smaller people, pets. A hand holding two fast-food drinks appears above the driver, through a sunroof. Deliberately, the arm leans to the left, bends, releases

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-34378828278460346342010-08-04T08:26:00.005-06:002010-08-06T07:45:04.559-06:00

A guy wearing the top half of a chicken costume is outside a local barbecue dive, dancing in 98 degree heat and 88 percent humidity. Oh, chicken guy. Go inside! If we come eat some catfish barbecue, will you go inside? It's not safe for dancing chickens out here today. No one can enjoy your peppy little Kenneth the Page dance moves when you are surely just moments from passing out on the sidewalk

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-44198824571565359872010-07-27T14:07:00.009-06:002010-09-02T11:46:08.370-06:00

Three weeks ago was the one-year anniversary of the day we arrived in Indiana, which I found oddly fitting, because three weeks ago I fell in love with Indianapolis. Indianapolis, you guys! And me! We are in love! It's a weird feeling. It was a winding path we took to this place, a rollercoaster love story, if rollercoasters moved quite slowly. I will share it with you. I will start from the

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-17027439390602154252010-07-26T08:25:00.001-06:002010-08-04T15:11:59.455-06:00

I got completely carried away about Harry. Yes, he's a darling man. But I was just on a Harry jag that week. It was nothing lasting. And you can't mess with history. Take me back, Leo?

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-63313898734315122332010-06-28T11:38:00.018-06:002010-08-04T15:14:15.882-06:00

The morning started badly. Neither of the two alarms I set went off – the volume on the alarm clock was somehow turned all the way down, and I don’t know what went wrong with my cell phone. I woke up with enough time to get ready, but the seed had been planted. Stupid alarm clock. Stupid phone. My black pants looked frumpy when I put them on -- after one washing the “slim leg” is looking

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-70538002126451518562010-06-21T05:16:00.007-06:002011-01-25T07:27:31.164-07:00

Let me tell you about my Monday night last week. I got off the plane in Indy mid-morning and needed to be on a train to Chicago at the crack of dawn the next day for a week-long work conference. I napped for a few hours to sleep off the red-eye and didn't go to sleep again until I was on the train the next day. That made sense to me at the time. I woke up and spent late Monday afternoon

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-83864595615138458512010-06-20T13:48:00.004-06:002010-08-04T15:17:54.676-06:00

Have you ever wondered what the coolest thing is? I will tell you. Looking out of a stopped and perfectly dark train into a black wall of bushes and realizing those piercing little flashes are fireflies, looking so bright because you've never seen them out this late. And your pupils are dilated, taking in these dozens of tiny, magic points of light, tracking their individual paths, when

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-3880599559880814292010-06-15T21:56:00.011-06:002010-09-02T11:51:59.271-06:00

(Time is relative -Einstein.) I got back yesterday from a week in California with Chris, a lovely week, the loveliest. I said goodbye to my one and only little brother who is leaving to serve a mission for the next two years, which was a bit tough, partly because he's my baby brother and he will be so growed up when I see him next. And also because he is such a genuine, funny, good-hearted

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-78948313082542543852010-05-31T22:05:00.002-06:002010-05-31T22:58:27.848-06:00

I've been missing you, blog. I know I haven't been around, but that doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about you and feeling guilty. Because I have. I've drafted a handful of the little essays I like to write about life for you, but I lose interest in them before I get them just right, I guess, and I haven't gotten comfortable enough with publishing stuff that's not "just right." I need to

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-17955675935914056502010-03-26T11:49:00.013-06:002011-01-25T07:41:54.010-07:00

One time several years ago I responded to a random friend request on Facebook by asking "Do I know you?" What you are about to read is the reply. "Sister [my last name], you have yet to have the pleasure of meeting my acquaintance. There's something about your picture that just drew me in. I guess it's because you look like one of my old girlfriends. So when I get a feeling about something I

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-46410031464506652592010-03-22T09:32:00.008-06:002010-03-24T21:09:29.417-06:00

My sweet mom sent me a package a week or two ago with some things she thought I should have, including a doily-like little sweater guy that would look much better on her and Small and Simple Things by Marjorie Pay Hinckley. The sweater is probably going back to Nord's, sorry mom, thanks for packing the receipt. Sister Hinckley, though, is a treat. Here's a few wise words from a powerful little

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-57231529653214087602010-03-04T22:48:00.009-07:002010-06-26T11:25:11.854-06:00

I am not a very dramatic person, I don't think, except in my head. It gets real dramatic in there. There's a huge weight of meaning attached to minor decisions, simple things can appear overwhelming, and I can view the entire story arc of my life differently depending on the weather. I think fairly constantly about how much potential I have to be more than I am and do so much more than I do,

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-41925089206878588962010-03-02T13:25:00.006-07:002010-03-07T18:28:02.647-07:00

I've got notes and jots down all over the place of things I want to write about, but I've realized that if I don't sit down and write out my thoughts right when they're on my brain, I lose interest and forget what I even wanted to say about it. I'm working on it. I just spent enough time putting together pictures from our month backpacking across Europe last summer that I want facebook AND blog

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-47241489331153809862010-02-04T21:10:00.007-07:002010-02-04T23:37:42.210-07:00

"I'm open over here, hun," the check-out lady calls from the next aisle over. I thank her, back up and steer into her aisle, start unloading my dinner groceries. "How're you doin' today," she asks as she scans. "I'm good, thanks!" I respond automatically. On second thought, "This gray weather is starting to get to me a little, though." Something easy to commiserate over with a friendly check-out

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-68797381069604502542009-12-26T02:09:00.006-07:002010-02-04T21:11:42.579-07:00

This has been the longest, loviest Christmas season for me and Chris. I meant to write loveliest, but lovey -- that too. We bought a midget tree and decorated our little Indianapolis townhouse a few days before Thanksgiving so we'd have time to soak it in before leaving for home fairly early in December, so we had almost three weeks of full-on Indiana Christmas (cold) followed by another two

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-1318539191181846252009-12-07T20:46:00.027-07:002009-12-07T22:37:18.693-07:00

I just sent a text that wasn't particularly funny but had a 'haha' in it anyway, and I thought about how much more texting I used to do, and that little excited feeling that used to come with the buzz of the phone, and the whole game of managing how into someone you appeared by how long you waited to text back, and etc. For the past few months I've been using my resurrected 2005 Nokia (while I

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-25669082272652494112009-11-30T23:58:00.009-07:002009-12-08T11:12:53.830-07:00

Midnight snack craving. A few bites of pumpkin pie? No, still craving. Half a slice of pumpkin pie? No. The whole slice of pumpkin pie except for one bite? No. This isn't helping. Zero in on forgotten, unopened bag of lime tortilla chips. Yes. Mmm, salty. Needs something. Needs salsa. No salsa, but we do have tomatoes, onion, even green chilies, and also a mini-chopper! Perfect, but too healthy.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-48406395715048902972009-11-29T01:37:00.005-07:002009-12-01T00:06:29.572-07:00

It was a valiant effort. I just couldn't bring it home for the finish. Maybe it's ok, though. I was feeling like by the end of November I would never want to update this blog again, but after taking a few days off I kind of miss it! I didn't really do what I was planning to do with NaBloPoMo, which was to finally flesh out some thoughts I've wanted to write down and record some moments before

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-66647023822636184672009-11-25T14:25:00.045-07:002009-11-27T21:03:11.090-07:00

We're off to Chicago for Thanksgiving! This will be the first year I haven't spent this holiday with my family and extended family, but people are just the nicest and we're really looking forward to our first Thanksgiving in the Midwest. We spent Chris' fall break weekend last month exploring some of Indiana's state parks while the leaves were changing. This one is called Turkey Run. Most of

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-80514293258058720232009-11-23T15:05:00.001-07:002009-11-25T22:39:21.286-07:00

We've tried to be outside as much as possible before winter, and Indiana weather has been really good to us so far. There's lots of gray days, but there's nearly as many gorgeous blue ones, and the leaves! Never have I lived somewhere so leafy. These are from a drizzly sort of afternoon in October when we needed to get out. We're right on the edge of Indy, and if you head away from the city in

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-74774278536179697852009-11-22T22:19:00.011-07:002009-11-28T21:13:28.989-07:00

Sometimes I underline while reading. Not very frequently, but a few of the books in my bookshelf have all my favorite lines marked, and I wish they all did. It makes it so easy to flip back through them and be reminded right away of why I liked them. Here's a few random lines from a quick flip-through of three random books. From The House of Mirth: "Mrs. Peniston thought the country lonely and

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-44893803443910004002009-11-21T02:15:00.005-07:002009-11-23T12:10:31.508-07:00

Here are three things I've made at least twice this fall:  -Butternut squash soup  -Baked honey-glazed chicken over rice  -Pumpkin chocolate chip cookies Here is one thing I've made at least eight times this fall:  -Mac n' Cheese Here are two things our moms sent us because they are going to miss us so much at Thanksgiving: -Turkey-shaped chocolate truffles. Oh, that's only one thing? Because

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-19548504381623224332009-11-20T23:43:00.008-07:002009-12-01T00:45:50.970-07:00

We saw The Invention of Lying at the dollar theater tonight, and for having all of the funniest people in it, it was not very funny at all. At one point near the beginning the unfunny drove us to check out the only other movie that started around the same time, and although Tim Burton produced Nine, it was not as geared toward adults as one might think. The five minutes we saw were like dystopian

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-89158776376562066542009-11-19T23:28:00.000-07:002009-11-23T23:30:19.921-07:00

I might make this a thing, where every once in a while I throw on a few songs I think are great, like, say, every Friday? Or at least this Friday, and potentially more Fridays after this. Yes, this inaugural Friday sing-along is because I keep doing my November daily blogging when it's crazy late and I don't have the mental energy to string very many words together, but I think it'll be fun!

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-45644109281113937882009-11-18T11:53:00.001-07:002009-11-19T01:02:26.432-07:00

1. It's time for bed, but A Little Because Because! Chris: haiku will work. 2. Just five-seven-five Does not make words a haiku But I'm desperate. 3. In all honesty I hate when people say that this crap is haiku. 4. Ugh, NaBloPoMo I'm blaming this all on you. Syllable, syllab.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-32296399854939808502009-11-17T02:08:00.011-07:002009-11-18T02:44:15.431-07:00

We spent last Friday night at home watching Anvil! The Story of Anvil, which everyone said was amazing and yes, yes it was. The band had their 15 minutes of heavy metal fame in the 80s, and although they somehow got left in the dust they've have been rocking their hearts out for more than 20 years, trying to make it big again. You could not pay for a more spot-on, lovable pair of aging rockers.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-70192959674379911822009-11-16T23:30:00.004-07:002009-11-17T00:07:00.678-07:00

August: And November. Indiana put on a really pretty fall, in between.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-7834381484992645842009-11-15T23:30:00.013-07:002009-11-24T22:06:48.693-07:00

Because I did, I had a huge love affair with him, in my mind, when I was 14. Who didn't? Ladies? I know who made the flyers for Leo Fest '98, which included Romeo and Juliet and What's Eating Gilbert Grape and IF ONLY WE COULD WATCH BASKETBALL DIARIES BUT IT'S RATED R NOoOoooOOOOooo. I know who squealed over his recurring guest role on Growing Pains re-runs, and I know whose hot little

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-65806585935497234002009-11-14T22:31:00.012-07:002009-12-01T01:09:20.423-07:00

Today I made a plain canvas bag into a pretty canvas bag. I wish I could say that's just the type of thing I do every weekend, all weekend long, but no. It was a church girls' crafty Saturday morning thing. I was about to note that Relief Society activities have gotten a lot cooler since I was little and my mom was bringing home assorted glue-gunned holiday decorations, but then I remembered one

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-6222969028738493962009-11-13T22:28:00.003-07:002009-11-13T22:29:50.071-07:00

Sometimes, if you've just left our neighborhood and you're in a hurry, you'll find traffic on the only road out is moving veeeerryyyyyy slowly. Because all the cars are backed up behind one slow-moving vehicle. That vehicle is driven by an old man, and it is a motorized wheelchair.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-59039852992529472542009-11-12T00:11:00.000-07:002009-11-13T11:35:04.345-07:00

Watch these, be happy. "Don't roll over on your stomach, because the bully will grab your head and bounce it off the sidewalk."    Before eHarmony, there was Video Mate. "I like to wear bright socks." (Here's the 4-minute version, if you need it. You probably do.) Classic Movie/TV moments mashed to become this fantastically catchy song.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-75571234523937677692009-11-11T12:23:00.014-07:002010-06-20T23:12:53.551-06:00

This is my post for yesterday. I know that's not how it works, but I wrote a post late last night and couldn't decide whether to post it and I fell asleep and today I still don't think it's a very good post and I'm not going to post it but I can't quit the NaBloPoMo now, so this will be yesterday's post and the NaBloPoMo continues! On shaky legal ground. Erm. I would leave this post at that but

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-45308495852213352312009-11-10T23:30:00.019-07:002009-11-11T20:05:08.451-07:00

We both loved Where the Wild Things Are when we were little, like every kid, and Chris had been counting down the days to the Spike Jonze movie since the first Arcade Fire-accompanied preview came out, along with every hipster on the interweb. I was excited, too, but I wasn't the one with the t-shirt. We weren't disappointed. It was breathtaking. Max is a miracle of natural being-a-kid, and from

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-58029029792195273842009-11-09T22:26:00.006-07:002009-11-09T23:10:22.563-07:00

Dec 18, 1991 Today I just receved this journal from my grandma and grandpa. My faveret coler is red. I am an artest. I am 8 year's old right now. I am in second grade. When I was in preschool I hade a girl friend. Her name is Arianna. But I have not seen her for 3 years. She dos not know I like her thogho. I have 1 brother and 1 sister. My mom's name is Kathlene, my dad's name is Kim. January 19

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-62196366519918357852009-11-08T18:41:00.036-07:002009-11-09T23:10:03.792-07:00

April 13, 1989 i WANT A DOG March 1989 I HAVE LEARNED TO DO A HEADSTAND June 24, 1989 ME AND MY DAD WANT CAMPED AND i CLiMD A MAWNTiN February, 1990 MY MOM IS PRAGNIT PREOBLE THE BABEE WIL CAM IN HALAWEN IM SO IKSIDID IM A SISTRE PS I TOC CORDOROY HOM I DONT RIT AVRETHENG March 26, 1990 I Went to the Form I sol Piglets and a Pig chic's and 1 baby dac fed anaml's petid buny's I olso

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-20882669779837261732009-11-07T21:17:00.016-07:002010-08-03T12:07:43.078-06:00

A Softer World makes comics that are clever and surprising and make you see things from a different angle, which is sometimes shocking in a very funny way and other times in a plain uncomfortable way. What I'm saying is, they can be amazing, but they can also be twisted and morbid and vulgar. If that's not your cup of tea I don't recommend the site. These ones, though. These ones are the stuff!

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-91945558473119025812009-11-06T23:39:00.008-07:002010-12-09T11:56:37.638-07:00

Just yesterday I would have been horrified at the idea of posting a picture of our upstairs bathroom, and it is still really unfortunate as bathrooms go: zero counter space, tiny mirror, bad lighting, cloggy drain. But now this shower curtain is in our lives! I was at Target finally using some wedding gift cards to outfit the bathrooms and was having trouble finding even a halfway decent-looking

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-44635886885539506072009-11-05T22:30:00.033-07:002009-11-07T23:13:07.051-07:00

In 1989, I was five turning six and in Mrs. Stucker's morning kindergarten class. So was my cousin Brittany. We were boy-chasers, literally. We led a gang of marauding little girls out on the kindergarten playground, and we used every "sittin' in a tree" chant on the books to torment the boys we liked. We also used our chubby little legs to chase them down with our pre-kissed hands outstretched.

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-64463418674310002232009-11-04T00:35:00.029-07:002009-11-06T12:30:07.519-07:00

Book I've been reading lately-ish:-To the Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf-Interpreter of Maladies and The Namesake, Jhumpa Lahiri-The Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls-Love Walked In and Belong to Me, Marisa de los Santos-Life of Pi, Yann Martel-Looking Backward, Edward BellamyTo the Lighthouse was the most gorgeous thing I've read possibly ever, and I wish I had written about it when it was fresh in my

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-83982219816621600912009-11-03T14:13:00.037-07:002009-11-07T23:22:21.909-07:00

The drive down to Bloomington is about 45 minutes on a two-lane state highway cut through trees and farmland, getting less flat and more hilly as you get farther south. A few weeks ago the trees pressed up against the road were in the middle of their fall transformation, yellow and red trees standing in bright, lonely groupings among the still-green and already-brown. By yesterday, they were all

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-85951196472939603212009-11-02T12:03:00.005-07:002009-11-07T23:36:58.232-07:00

I swear to you that our internet connection went out last night just as I was finishing this post and hasn't come back since. Pretty sure the NaBloPoMo enforcers cut our house off the grid because I was trying to post past midnight again. We're pretending it's still Monday in this post (see how it says Monday at the top?), because that's when I wrote it. I swear it on NaBloPoMo.I was getting

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-60536799056992763972009-11-01T19:24:00.014-07:002009-11-02T00:10:08.487-07:00

Three and a half weeks later is kind of like "this week," right? Sorry, mom. I'm considering doing the NaBloPoMo post-every-day-of-November challenge to get me writing anything, even if I'm not up to composing some kind of essay. I think that might be good for me? I wrote three posts since the last one, but none of them were worth hitting publish. One too shmaltzy, one too long and too

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-10724395879974982392009-10-07T16:18:00.013-06:002009-10-07T23:19:33.672-06:00

I just tried out five versions of a first sentence, about how when there's too much to write it's easier not to write anything, or something? But I'm just going to skip those preliminaries because here we are together, there are new words to look at the next time you click here and that's all that really matters, isn't it? New words!Serving sizes are so much crap, you guys. This box of bow-tie

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-2933998825150910952009-08-26T00:00:00.004-06:002009-09-08T21:28:25.799-06:00

1. The doorknob fell off the bathroom door in our otherwise lovely townhouse the other day. Both halves just kind of let go when I twisted it open. Since Chris is much more adept at these kinds of fixings, I set the pieces aside til later. But oops, when I used the bathroom later that night I completely forgot about the knob situation. Click. That is the sound of a knobless door latching. It

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-81948670881798902892009-08-10T07:30:00.010-06:002009-08-12T13:09:22.552-06:00

I think it started or at least intensified around the time we got married -- this nagging feeling that I should be writing everything down, all of it, if I wait even a few days all the moments that are my life will float away unremembered. It makes me a little panicky, all the things I don't want to forget. It's only occasionally that I do sit down and write them, but they go through my head as I

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-43250393304343321032009-07-17T10:50:00.015-06:002010-06-25T17:53:56.740-06:00

Well, here we are. Remember my best-case Indianapolis two months ago? With the happy-to-be alive, ethnically diverse dancing in the streets? All the time, you guys, it breaks out all the time. It's like, again, really? I just got dried off from the last broken fire hydrant! OK not really. But people do smoke in clubs like nobody's business! And while I've been let down by the lack of soggy dance

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-52988843623001795992009-06-25T15:30:00.020-06:002009-07-17T09:51:02.271-06:00

OK! We are so home!I started writing an on-the-road post a couple times, but they were all, My time on this computer runs out in 2 minutes! This country is the best! Wish you were here! So, those didn't get published.We're recovering in Laguna Niguel/Rancho Santa Margarita for a few days and right now we're at the in-laws, and I am the happiest girl. My hair is blow-dried. Clothes are tumbling

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-18897477569824312102009-05-27T09:50:00.008-06:002009-06-25T15:19:32.122-06:00

Speaking of doing pretty things, Chris and I are backpacking Europe for three weeks 24 days in June. Actually in four days. (Is that so wrong, putting something on The List that you already have plane tickets for? I just love crossing things off. You understand.) The general itinerary is Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Greek Isles if we have time, Rome and Northern Italy, back

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-18693262873501685512009-05-21T18:11:00.006-06:002009-05-21T21:07:46.153-06:00

Sometimes I’m really excited about moving to Indianapolis at the end of June. (Oh, we’re moving to Indianapolis!) Most of Chris' other possibilities for dental school were in Arizona or Southern California, and I was really hoping to spend these four years somewhere completely new and different. (I've spent very little time in Arizona, but to me it feels like an exact cross of Utah and California

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-33691710772391065952009-05-19T23:13:00.002-06:002009-05-27T09:59:23.539-06:00

All those thousands of mornings and afternoons and evenings stretching ahead are going to fill themselves up with work and dishes and Internet if you don't make them fit all the beautiful things in your head. So, inspired by Maggie's list at Mighty Girl, here are my first 25 of 100. Please appreciate the difficulty of committing to this list. Because. I have not exhaustively reviewed and revamped

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-67843073717004609782009-05-01T18:55:00.003-06:002009-05-22T10:59:26.652-06:00

Chris got me an alarm clock for Christmas. Romantic, I know. Its name is Clocky, and it has wheels. Clocky is supposed to roll off the night stand and maneuver away from you to get you out of bed, but he has a fatal flaw. He only rolls away after the first snooze cycle. That means Clocky is a sitting duck on my nightstand the first time he goes R2D2 in the morning. Which means he is safely in my

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-79877807637157930162009-04-20T11:38:00.006-06:002009-05-27T12:30:42.175-06:00

The transition from winter to spring in Utah is always a very touchy affair. Lots of false starts and take-backs and screwing with people's heads. I don't really mind the wintery days as long as they share with the sparkly blue ones, and March and April hadn't taken sides this year. Afternoon napping at the park followed by a morning with the ice scraper, Saturday sleet before an Easter Sunday

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-89868442639456210892009-04-14T23:50:00.000-06:002009-04-17T21:01:18.314-06:00

I've mentioned in passing that I have the ability to mess up cooking things like Rice-a-Roni? You can mentally add making banana bread to the list. Making banana bread WITH a bread maker.Do you know how you make banana bread? You mash up flour and eggs and bananas, basically, and then you put the goop in the oven, and then it bakes and you have banana bread.That's only if you want to do it the

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-44645487764218144252009-03-12T11:04:00.005-06:002009-03-21T16:27:48.937-06:00

Things I have learned in the recent transition to dirt-poor newlywed:1. The heels of bread? Are not bad! So preferable to PB & J on tortilla.2. I am way too used to buying anything might taste good. Now I push my cart longingly past the sugar cones I once bought on a whim, the nutella, the coconut fruit bars, the uncanned juice, the Voila!, the E.L Fudge... sigh. 3. On the flip side, we now cook

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-48037435489509839232009-03-09T21:48:00.015-06:002010-09-02T12:28:01.237-06:00

Written in the hazy consciousness after yoga last week: 'I love the way everyone's bodies look doing yoga, working hard and imperfectly. Contorting into difficult positions and poses seems to somehow embrace what the body is really for-- doing. Hard things, amazing things, anything you can push it to do. There is infinite variation between the bodies in the room, but all are positioned in

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-54444457905505305242009-03-08T22:07:00.010-06:002009-03-09T01:01:05.941-06:00

Ok all I really had to say about sleepovers was that apparently, I'm the girl who talks in her sleep. Nobody wants to be that girl, but somebody has to, and now I have to accept that it's me. (Do you Laguna Niguel girls remember when Kristen L. was in a sleep fight with nobody and sat up and very forcefully told them to SHUT UP when we were sleeping over next door to Michelle's? Me too, I

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-24073016972902433022009-03-05T21:19:00.016-07:002009-03-11T00:38:29.701-06:00

I made this goal when I turned 12 that I was going to write in my journal every single night, starting with my birthday and continuing indefinitely. I had heard someone in church say their child hadn't missed a single night of reading his scriptures since he was 12, and the perfectionist in me was enthralled with a goal that had such a high probability of failure. I would be the only girl at

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-59056572705852931152009-01-15T02:33:00.011-07:002009-03-09T01:08:39.717-06:00

Saved in my phone after a windy walk along a deserted strip of Huntington beach: Everything I want life to feel like, it is by the ocean.Somewhat related: freeways that are unbearable at the wrong time of day can be such a dream at night and at mid-day. One of my Glendale cousins is living and teaching in Valencia, and I love her, so I made the drive up for a sleep-over a couple days ago. My mom

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-66013818538783609472009-01-07T02:31:00.004-07:002009-01-07T02:45:16.241-07:00

I don't know what to believe anymore, blog.You try to be a conscientious citizen and live a healthy life. You wear your sunscreen when you think of it, you eat your vegetables, you floss occasionally, you recycle if it's not too inconvenient. You try to stay familiar with the issues, maybe you read a daily newspaper.Here lies the problem. Some "scientist" is constantly conducting some new "study

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-8013968698594190152009-01-05T23:58:00.005-07:002009-01-06T03:08:24.189-07:00

I'm in Utah for a couple days to have a last fitting and bring home the wedding dress, and it is snowing. It snowed most of the day, coating everything with a thick layer of pancake batter. It is glorious, perfect snow, clinging stickily to every twig and branch, and where it's been plowed to the side of the road it still looks fresh enough to eat.Late tonight I drove home to my old apartment,

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1698198411295623597.post-70883041327382210862008-12-12T03:00:00.005-07:002008-12-12T10:11:28.114-07:00

I like music. Love it, even. But it's only rarely that I feel like scouring friends' and the Internet's music collections for new music to love. With the majority of bands, I would never get past loving three of their songs or one of their albums, if left to myself. I'll see a great opening band and remember their name, but it could easily end there, with me. I'm also not the girl who knows when

Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10264795944739993575noreply@blogger.com3