tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81674922275647278892024-02-19T17:04:01.084-08:00Is That Your Natural Color?The Travels of Life and the Pursuit of AdventureMelissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-44798515895824444862018-02-08T09:39:00.002-08:002018-02-08T09:45:56.369-08:00Game, What Game?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh079D-vsBFzp7SNnSAVi2XupxNmCbFxBglhbQksbNGjo_pj_IvSQGjXBN5JtNz-rRZqaZiYoXMzyuCpysKvt1FbN0rOfwHr_UCXG7Ap49JICjk5Xn_EgqZYkMtmMYWQq8p4NkdpNtetsbw/s1600/12669676_10153905910356823_7193062202692947332_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh079D-vsBFzp7SNnSAVi2XupxNmCbFxBglhbQksbNGjo_pj_IvSQGjXBN5JtNz-rRZqaZiYoXMzyuCpysKvt1FbN0rOfwHr_UCXG7Ap49JICjk5Xn_EgqZYkMtmMYWQq8p4NkdpNtetsbw/s320/12669676_10153905910356823_7193062202692947332_n.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cauliflower Buffalo Bites</td></tr>
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*I found this post recently that I didn't publish but it works every year. I've updated with new food items and team switches*<br />
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Sunday started early. So early in fact that I think it might have been Saturday. Yes, yes actually it was. Saturday night and preparations for Sunday were in effect.<br />
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There was so much to do, so much to make. Which recipes would we narrow it down to? The decisions were almost too much. Everything looked lip-smacking good.<br />
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Maybe we would just make them all. I mean, this <i>was</i> food fest we were going to. Wasn't it? Weren't we going to a food festival?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyj7uc3zdF-HKEcYEKKzmi1BbRTGqE7vADAPRtgOlCY1RMV3h5Zv6tm9VWDZmdoiMRVF_dDRvHqqSCpa-vEsUIkW_5HyHl-y8zwKaie7fmBZiLilppxArVuDbFgsNt8bSx0mOAgK7ndWjf/s1600/12670240_10153905910246823_6279029527535608156_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyj7uc3zdF-HKEcYEKKzmi1BbRTGqE7vADAPRtgOlCY1RMV3h5Zv6tm9VWDZmdoiMRVF_dDRvHqqSCpa-vEsUIkW_5HyHl-y8zwKaie7fmBZiLilppxArVuDbFgsNt8bSx0mOAgK7ndWjf/s320/12670240_10153905910246823_6279029527535608156_n.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mac and Cheese with Shiitake Bacon</td></tr>
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Wait. It wasn't <i>Foodbowl</i>. It was <i>Superbowl</i>. My excitement was starting to wane.<br />
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All this preparation, the hours of carefully pouring over which fantastic recipes to share, was it all for football?<br />
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I wouldn't let the game get to me. I had a job to do. I couldn't let anyone down. My teammate, Mike, was counting on me. Being a non-meat eater at the biggest wing fest of the year is tricky. We needed options.<br />
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I was prepared. We chose well. Cauliflower Buffalo Bites, Crispy Buffalo Quinoa Bites, Baked Jalapeno Poppers, Macaroni and Cheese with Shiitake Bacon, Greek "Sushi", Bunnies in a Blanket and finally, Chili.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGv5F-2wLweht9JgTt_Lns_4av_hV5F_94Z8baCLb2zs4f9-Ry_2uuCFFWP5CWLRJJ3MgwNthSQ8_xXbn5wThQoM_IkZbzvqAUhOl6fKF4XYLKe3nQJQrYmsyXvW0HM_5RLDFiTLjsBO9j/s1600/27459191_10156116893216823_7691114899930639409_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGv5F-2wLweht9JgTt_Lns_4av_hV5F_94Z8baCLb2zs4f9-Ry_2uuCFFWP5CWLRJJ3MgwNthSQ8_xXbn5wThQoM_IkZbzvqAUhOl6fKF4XYLKe3nQJQrYmsyXvW0HM_5RLDFiTLjsBO9j/s200/27459191_10156116893216823_7691114899930639409_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jalapeno Poppers</td></tr>
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When game day rolled around we were ready. Our spicy treats were prepared for the crowd. We made our way to the starting line.<br />
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As we placed our goods on the field, we were lauded for our presentation. Our wingless goods were ready to fly.<br />
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As was customary, we were teased for our non-meatless morsels. Yet we knew, as did our friends, that our food would be eaten and we'd be left with nothing but meat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcGaVLQ-NuC4f6tG_-yMveUhlhKMv-oUo3mGUj1HIVyD8OoeRGa9MIV4bnRQcE-3uZiWNnm0S1Sdj6TzQb8vW8m3A7W01cOpT0Zf2VGWTi8K-cjsD8g4NMA7VzDbPuonL8YMSAA_f9Mnw/s1600/12715516_10153905910151823_7777664361108944841_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcGaVLQ-NuC4f6tG_-yMveUhlhKMv-oUo3mGUj1HIVyD8OoeRGa9MIV4bnRQcE-3uZiWNnm0S1Sdj6TzQb8vW8m3A7W01cOpT0Zf2VGWTi8K-cjsD8g4NMA7VzDbPuonL8YMSAA_f9Mnw/s320/12715516_10153905910151823_7777664361108944841_n.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quinoa Buffalo Bites</td></tr>
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We were ready. Ready for the game before the game. The most important part of any celebration and the real reason we all got together. The food.<br />
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Plates were passed around, drinks were poured. We manned our stations and it began.<br />
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The Great Food Bowl of 2018.<br />
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While it's not <i>that</i> important I guess it it worth mentioning that the game was played between the Philadelphia Eagles and the New England Patriots. <br />
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Back to the snacks. They extended for tables. There was something for every palate. <br />
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I can proudly say that our tasty morsels were snatched up. We have to be quick around here, even our meatless snacks are usually the first ones to go.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl14l0msP6qBLecvbV8Cs5X463Fu7-rpaWOk9EQvbAiK5zRbPBqSfmPPAi-r4L3JEv9fldOA_aemY3MG4qrLX_h662b43a819AA-fC2_1Z89Dpkh3qcZ6VZce5vKt7C0Vx1nX-sBN_7n7l/s1600/27540240_10156116893121823_5848437143505885845_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl14l0msP6qBLecvbV8Cs5X463Fu7-rpaWOk9EQvbAiK5zRbPBqSfmPPAi-r4L3JEv9fldOA_aemY3MG4qrLX_h662b43a819AA-fC2_1Z89Dpkh3qcZ6VZce5vKt7C0Vx1nX-sBN_7n7l/s200/27540240_10156116893121823_5848437143505885845_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Greek "Sushi"</td></tr>
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I never know whether to be upset about this or honored. It usually depends on how hungry I am. Today, it was a little bit of both.<br />
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I watched as first the poppers flew off the plate. Next went the buffalo bites. The bunnies weren't far behind.<br />
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I knew I had to make my way down the field to make a play or I'd be left on the sidelines.<br />
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I slipped from my chair and made it just as the last of the snacks were going. I made it just as the clock counted down. The last bites were mine.<br />
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The Great Food Bowl was once again a success. Oh and The Philadelphia Eagles won the game.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEvVJrhNL5kor77S_nRpRdMQrMObjIzZnpP5J7CPDPMI60eFCFt65RI3qxYyo1levm0qPhhzAWOaJpjbXTy7VcZQ5KIEm7HoyLEfU3UW8fnakVZ5VkoxMOSgZI93wVuHT6EZ0N7splr95/s1600/27540493_10156116893276823_1957053945852079756_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEvVJrhNL5kor77S_nRpRdMQrMObjIzZnpP5J7CPDPMI60eFCFt65RI3qxYyo1levm0qPhhzAWOaJpjbXTy7VcZQ5KIEm7HoyLEfU3UW8fnakVZ5VkoxMOSgZI93wVuHT6EZ0N7splr95/s200/27540493_10156116893276823_1957053945852079756_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bunnies in A Blanket</td></tr>
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If you'd like to know more about any of the snacks mentioned here, email me for more recipes.</div>
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Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-86752938975665057642016-03-03T06:14:00.000-08:002016-03-03T06:16:45.510-08:00Because Sometimes You Just Want to Be a Stuntman<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFySyH3wNjDBfBGc9XxHuVMkKL3Q0Aucmelj7-4FwbqfdWSWoig8_OuPwKeXJSjD6IrnKc2bT5DzWa59e05y5I2DwEr_iWlsiOD-ByugEsmU5Nu_SvKpSzdnSX0pcK-lUyZQUkqqUCDTzv/s1600/stunt+school.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFySyH3wNjDBfBGc9XxHuVMkKL3Q0Aucmelj7-4FwbqfdWSWoig8_OuPwKeXJSjD6IrnKc2bT5DzWa59e05y5I2DwEr_iWlsiOD-ByugEsmU5Nu_SvKpSzdnSX0pcK-lUyZQUkqqUCDTzv/s320/stunt+school.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Preparing to Leap</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">I love adventure. All types of adventure. I'm usually on the hunt for all kinds of new things to do but I'm not opposed to repeat themes. If it's something fun, of course I'm going to revisit it. </span></div>
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Scary, exciting, different - they all have my name on it. I like to call myself the entertainment coordinator. I usually plan things for me but I don't exclude. I'm all for people joining in on my excursions. </div>
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Sure, sometimes they do. Mostly, they don't. I'm used to being a solo rider. Like the time I decided to brush up on my trapeze skills. Not one person joined in. I had a few friends that <i>said</i> they wanted to come along, but in the end, it was me, with my cameraman. Thanks Mike.</div>
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I'm used to this. I don't mind. I'm never going to miss out because I'm a solo rider. I need adventure. <i>Need it</i>. It keeps things exciting. So I'm constantly searching for new things to do. </div>
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I always try to find a new experience, an unusual exploit, before I go back to something I've already done. I almost ignored my guidelines when it came to the trapeze. This was, to date, one of my favorite undertakings.</div>
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I discovered the trapeze in San Diego. Encinitas to be exact. I was so excited that I even had a few friends share in my enthusiasm. Until it came time to book. Then I was solo flyer. Literally. Well, technically I was solo adult flyer. Nothing says adventure like a class full of children and me. Lone adult.</div>
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But I forged on. Up the ladder to the platform and off I went. Swinging, flipping and the best of all, the catch and release. I'm not going to lie. It was hard, but the fun far outweighed it and was worth every ache I felt the next day.</div>
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After I moved back to NYC from San Diego, I wanted to go revisit Trapeze School. My logic was "different area, different experience" but I knew I had to wait. I had to find something new. Something different. The search was on. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjW4f2xVJsjEeaydutPRu1Pj9WUlIE-yu0Fa9LqUsXvDLgjyTj6LgFZZA1IpwlJLjqYHeBdbSWXayYp0_yVGze7iVsuecoIn6XLKN5TSZOkDN0nDXesU-oGMzjxaBxeT6ge9ouAE9HmMX/s1600/trapeze.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjW4f2xVJsjEeaydutPRu1Pj9WUlIE-yu0Fa9LqUsXvDLgjyTj6LgFZZA1IpwlJLjqYHeBdbSWXayYp0_yVGze7iVsuecoIn6XLKN5TSZOkDN0nDXesU-oGMzjxaBxeT6ge9ouAE9HmMX/s320/trapeze.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trapeze School, San Diego, CA</td></tr>
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Then one day I found it. My hunt had yielded the ultimate. STUNT SCHOOL. I had found the jackpot of city adventures. Not only was I going to learn how to be a stuntman, I was going to jump off buildings! </div>
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Through Living Social, I had found a place called Hollywood Stunt School. I was in and this time I was going with a friend. My cameraman Mike was up for the challenge.<br />
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There were two options (technically, yes, but for us, it was never an option) - Trampoline or High Falls. I knew what we were choosing. High Falls it was.<br />
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Because sometimes, you just want to be a stuntman.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp89bdaWBGicWUntiNpQxl16NNfGK0T96ptuQ8yd5JcI7blsotcnyWic15opjqCxWYVjMwbWp1Tl5sP-FQtXwICyERs3w1VLWz1bHYcbxfwMHQI_vPqkznQAtzg_drRI6ixPn9tOKMl5VU/s1600/stunt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp89bdaWBGicWUntiNpQxl16NNfGK0T96ptuQ8yd5JcI7blsotcnyWic15opjqCxWYVjMwbWp1Tl5sP-FQtXwICyERs3w1VLWz1bHYcbxfwMHQI_vPqkznQAtzg_drRI6ixPn9tOKMl5VU/s320/stunt.jpg" width="237" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pros at Work at Stunt School</td></tr>
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We were going to learn the proper way to fall from 20 and 30 feet. There was also a 40 foot platform but that wasn't for beginners. We started off with a table fall into a crash mat so we learn the proper technique. Baby steps.<br />
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The class had about 15 people in it - people who came for different reasons. People like us who were fulfilling their stuntman dreams, people who were just trying something different and then there was the woman who was deathly afraid of heights. No joke. Terrified.<br />
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Everyone in the class cheered her on. She climbed each platform and every time, had to wait it out, urged on by the cheers of her class. Although she was terrified, and it took her longer than the rest of us, she did it. Every time. From the platform onto the airbag. Success.<br />
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The instructors were great. We had fun and even though we all walked in as strangers, our entire class bonded over our leaps off the platform and the inspiration of the woman. She overcame her fear, I think we all might have teared up a little.<br />
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Next time I'm braving the 40 foot platform.<br />
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Ironically, what was supposed to be just a day of play, has now taught us the proper way to fall. It came in handy when, during our snowstorm a few weeks back, I thought it would be fun to jump off the deck into the snowbank. Life lessons. Stuntman for life.<br />
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To see a video of me at Trapeze School, follow this link:<br />
https://www.facebook.com/melissakbauer/videos/497693251822/?l=5368495957900613121<br />
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To see a video of me at Stunt School, follow this link:<br />
https://www.facebook.com/michael.j.bauernfeind/videos/10201398412230838/<br />
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To learn more about Hollywood Stunt School, visit their website:<br />
http://hollywoodstunts.com/<br />
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To learn more about Trapeze School, visit their website:<br />
http://www.trapezehigh.com/<br />
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<br />Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-14844806057333969322016-02-08T05:50:00.002-08:002016-02-08T05:50:21.837-08:00Beam Me Up Scotchy<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjToypcqd3EyKsH2KnG6sl7RVxTvfbQozE-p294q704MEh8jdBwfw6mtqLXMmBIhWQEAA1m9o9KvhUFEN-2Gq_1ZAPjjS8C9J3xEezMza3sXL9s_1V6yIjsGy35CAG2_2QvasHBWBFFtNCR/s1600/drams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjToypcqd3EyKsH2KnG6sl7RVxTvfbQozE-p294q704MEh8jdBwfw6mtqLXMmBIhWQEAA1m9o9KvhUFEN-2Gq_1ZAPjjS8C9J3xEezMza3sXL9s_1V6yIjsGy35CAG2_2QvasHBWBFFtNCR/s320/drams.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">12, 15 & 18 Year Scotch (not pictured - Nadurra)</td></tr>
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It's winter in New York City. This means cold. Very cold. Finding things to do each weekend gets harder and harder. Not for lack of events. It's my motivation.<br />
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When I wake up each morning, or get home each night, I fight the urge to want to get back in bed, underneath those warm covers.<br />
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The struggle is real.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhswHqm40Oj-aKPDondJjgQGRUJqdSSWUdTg7eSKp9jBjVrQEoVBEvW2SS7BiuOR7xm_QexInmAipqpN6IrqbKc9WOg6Y_CKAz0hyphenhyphenzEXcR3ySaYsvUx2VKLzWMI0e7OZiqtejym0FJj2_Wu/s1600/12645039_10153890712891823_554290410744902153_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhswHqm40Oj-aKPDondJjgQGRUJqdSSWUdTg7eSKp9jBjVrQEoVBEvW2SS7BiuOR7xm_QexInmAipqpN6IrqbKc9WOg6Y_CKAz0hyphenhyphenzEXcR3ySaYsvUx2VKLzWMI0e7OZiqtejym0FJj2_Wu/s320/12645039_10153890712891823_554290410744902153_n.jpg" width="213" /></a>Until I see "free". Free? Now that's truly something even harder to come by. So imagine my surprise when we've recently had the good fortune to attend not one, not two but <i>three</i> free scotch tastings.<br />
<br />
Ah, Scotch. Where do I begin? I have an interesting relationship with Scotch. I do not love it. I do not even like it. So why would I go to so many tastings? One word: Mike. Mike loves Scotch. I'm talking love. Love.<br />
<br />
I knew he was enamored of the golden liquid and I wanted to do my part to make sure he enjoyed it as much as he could. I began my search. Our first two tastings began months ago.<br />
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I had seen an add for a Balvenie tasting and signed us up. Mike was hooked. It followed with a tasting by Macallan. Then, this past Friday, came the Glenlivet at the Hudson Mercantile.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiokVi8yTQvBtHXfIpP-bvmHj293XqBCw8BOjkYasdvdWGjV9BHNLNpcAYOPg0atRdSBhphokEVteiUTnp3wbWlKsidJQD8I0PClfe9Md7NttXIvhay3KpDoozQOaIKT0I_QzdiAnnN3G5W/s1600/12651278_10153890711061823_1299925138921378817_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiokVi8yTQvBtHXfIpP-bvmHj293XqBCw8BOjkYasdvdWGjV9BHNLNpcAYOPg0atRdSBhphokEVteiUTnp3wbWlKsidJQD8I0PClfe9Md7NttXIvhay3KpDoozQOaIKT0I_QzdiAnnN3G5W/s320/12651278_10153890711061823_1299925138921378817_n.jpg" width="198" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking one for the team</td></tr>
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The Glenlivet is the single malt whiskey that started all. Made in Speyside, Scotland, it was so good that back in 1822 even King George the IV requested it. Mike would agree. It had such a good name that others were using the Glenlivet name in addition to theirs. Glenlivet was able to trademark their name and they became THE Glenlivet.<br />
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THE Glenlivet is produced in 6 steps.<br />
1. Malting<br />
2. Milling<br />
3. Mashing<br />
4. Fermentation<br />
5. Distillation<br />
6. Maturation<br />
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This final step, maturation, is what defines whether it will be a 12 year, a 15 year, an 18 year or 25 year and above. It all depends on how long you allow the whiskey to mature.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWvuyI9ok8XhdrSSVMM49eJhV0mqFI9ISFG2g-oQvZUYleDSErdioKOCcgix-WmCBfsSuRegWbHu6ypJ2cCFxRWXOGLWr5qR65w-dPWAyeLl22uksRXPLu3cg03VuWYyqeRXzrvfPB-PV/s1600/12662036_10153895032981823_8464185704984749619_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWvuyI9ok8XhdrSSVMM49eJhV0mqFI9ISFG2g-oQvZUYleDSErdioKOCcgix-WmCBfsSuRegWbHu6ypJ2cCFxRWXOGLWr5qR65w-dPWAyeLl22uksRXPLu3cg03VuWYyqeRXzrvfPB-PV/s200/12662036_10153895032981823_8464185704984749619_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>We were able to taste four scotch whiskeys. A 12, 15, and 18 year with a bonus called the NĂ durra. Great for Mike. Not so much for me. Have I mentioned that I do not like scotch? I've tried. A lot. Hey, I'm no quitter. I'll keep at it for Mike.<br />
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It was a great event. They had a nice variety of appetizers throughout the venue and the host was great. It was at the top of the tastings that we've been to. A little rushed for the tasting portion but overall, well done.<br />
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Now it's time to move on to the big time. The Motherland. Where Mike can go from scotch to scotch to scotch. And me? I can listen to the bagpipes. <br />
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To learn more about the products and places mentioned, you can visit their websites:<br />
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http://us.theglenlivet.com/<br />
http://www.hudson-mercantile.com/<br />
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<br />Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-65046669440895597872016-02-01T18:15:00.000-08:002016-02-01T18:15:59.701-08:00A Sweetleaf in Long Island City<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH_KwqW4GH3QDmMILwWCFGh0NvGLJ-cUJRVDG-SYlQ-yNNRV2cBM4gF9Z2tr6IDLHe7mWUhSFTmuACtHIXuyaR3hETFbIt-DbJXSltGt5MKHIsN2tpM08uq04zGqOovy2tJ0VLxUetYjhb/s1600/12644924_10153890667001823_497560429363494525_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH_KwqW4GH3QDmMILwWCFGh0NvGLJ-cUJRVDG-SYlQ-yNNRV2cBM4gF9Z2tr6IDLHe7mWUhSFTmuACtHIXuyaR3hETFbIt-DbJXSltGt5MKHIsN2tpM08uq04zGqOovy2tJ0VLxUetYjhb/s320/12644924_10153890667001823_497560429363494525_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>I can't stress enough how much winter in NYC makes me sad. Cold and sad. That's me, by the sign, being sad. No, really.<br />
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You're probably thinking, well, hey, you don't look too sad. I mean, I'm standing in front of a giant Pepsi-Cola sign so I'm not really <i>that</i> sad. <br />
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And it was Saturday. You can't be sad on Saturday. And it was sunny. You can't be sad when it's sunny. It <i>was</i> still cold so maybe I was just a little bit sad. Or cold. But I was on a mission. A random fun mission. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTAxLgaGy7r7JhLqrJFC6-3yTJMFymxqNDAE68lJoA9FmuiJvE1hYjsMddwey4_sxO3jkI0kP-3aD8f9rKr1dBhDNzxCD4_axVYy2Ap_DM5UFMZrtCtAUayAheDNf2P9g1SoWlBZzajOi/s1600/12670079_10153890667046823_2311592537617928983_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTAxLgaGy7r7JhLqrJFC6-3yTJMFymxqNDAE68lJoA9FmuiJvE1hYjsMddwey4_sxO3jkI0kP-3aD8f9rKr1dBhDNzxCD4_axVYy2Ap_DM5UFMZrtCtAUayAheDNf2P9g1SoWlBZzajOi/s320/12670079_10153890667046823_2311592537617928983_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mike and a portion of the city skyline</td></tr>
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We started out the day on a charity mission. Checking out art to use for a future art benefit for the Icla da Silva Foundation.*<br />
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The foundation is located in Long Island City. Not an area we are familiar with and we decided it was time to explore.<br />
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Long Island City is in Queens and is across the water from Manhattan and the view is beautiful. We started with a walk along the boardwalk.<br />
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This area has so many new things to explore - cafes, restaurants, parks - even a dog run. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgghnyqDdU6K10LKPdF0TffrppkXzlxqOkfEDj9nkS8sXeKNyGSiVqIrLALCAKZEX1WwgV4mPB6ZY5sz2hhxv4TVGgK6SjESZ_oaL1cNMawt6YoQbxMnug5pzWbx_5CEGj68iEImzHnmUIO/s1600/12670248_10153890706681823_5456266475296524115_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgghnyqDdU6K10LKPdF0TffrppkXzlxqOkfEDj9nkS8sXeKNyGSiVqIrLALCAKZEX1WwgV4mPB6ZY5sz2hhxv4TVGgK6SjESZ_oaL1cNMawt6YoQbxMnug5pzWbx_5CEGj68iEImzHnmUIO/s320/12670248_10153890706681823_5456266475296524115_n.jpg" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Comrade Mary</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="text-align: justify;">We were starting to get cold so it was time. Cocktail time. We walked around and found Sweetleaf. Sweetleaf is a coffee and espresso bar and apparently at this location it is also serves cocktails. It's like it was calling to us.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">We found our seat by the window and the flavor adventure began. </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">The bartender, Jonathon, came over and went over everything. I was set on the Comrade Mary, a lighter version of the Bloody Mary. When I say lighter I mean light on the mixers, more of the alcohol. Lemon, lime, cucumber and some other mixers included and it was perfection. </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">It was mixed to perfection so well that I had to stop myself from drinking it down in one sip. Light, refreshing and just, well, just so good. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnKlRNpaZCnc-PshYMq7CUu5pzqW3eoF-gy84hkWzoST8UqZmEs6wWMBQkqisxfy-Lz3djqFYAHJ758cZq49UxhStlaUJTjLQmhLhLMiRqISnPoPIHvd-zlcIH2lpQMSgrvxgO1KRJwee/s1600/12592440_10153891012246823_2636100263797088936_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnKlRNpaZCnc-PshYMq7CUu5pzqW3eoF-gy84hkWzoST8UqZmEs6wWMBQkqisxfy-Lz3djqFYAHJ758cZq49UxhStlaUJTjLQmhLhLMiRqISnPoPIHvd-zlcIH2lpQMSgrvxgO1KRJwee/s320/12592440_10153891012246823_2636100263797088936_n.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bartender's Surprise</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">Mike opted for the bartender's surprise. He wanted a hot drink and went for a coffee mix. It involved cinnamon syrup and two types of rum. I don't know what else was in there but it was so good that the girl at the next table ordered it based on smell alone. </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">We went in for one drink. We stayed for 3 hours. Yes, I said 3 hours. We lingered over the delicious flavors of our beverages and tested a few others. The bartender was so talented that he could take any flavor profile and mix it up. </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">He made Mike The Penicillin. Scotch, ginger and a few other ingredients, garnished with candied ginger. At first, all you tasted was scotch but as the drink sat, the ginger came through and that was the predominant flavor. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: justify;">Then there were the ice cubes - like mini art pieces. The last time we had seen cubes like this was in Japan where the bartender carefully chiseled away to create perfectly formed orbs. Such precision and care. </span><br />
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Jonathan showed such a passion for each drink that we knew we were getting a good product each time. We had hit the jackpot. The cocktail jackpot. We will be going back to Sweetleaf again.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioIrQKpqQTd2m4BoTg5S4p3gHF9wIPm8z62jGGTIjv5oQA7yTJlXx9uWokNrPbLH3VlTcCg9BLn9VTGMyX4rUSYVZ2Kv6vXxP_sDa62XOab09hyphenhyphenflzViagAKJZ3V1AEMJPLuRgtXJojWwj/s1600/12642578_10153890706591823_3187922542083839271_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioIrQKpqQTd2m4BoTg5S4p3gHF9wIPm8z62jGGTIjv5oQA7yTJlXx9uWokNrPbLH3VlTcCg9BLn9VTGMyX4rUSYVZ2Kv6vXxP_sDa62XOab09hyphenhyphenflzViagAKJZ3V1AEMJPLuRgtXJojWwj/s320/12642578_10153890706591823_3187922542083839271_n.jpg" width="290" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Penicillin</td></tr>
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For more information on the location mentioned, visit their website: </div>
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http://www.sweetleaflic.com/</div>
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http://www.icla.org/</div>
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*The mission of the Icla da Dilva Foundation is to save lives by recruiting bone marrow donors and providing support services to children and adults with leukemia and other diseases treatable by marrow transplants.</div>
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Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-30434965534325619742016-01-28T08:39:00.003-08:002016-01-28T08:39:49.883-08:00Maille Mustard is Spice & Everything NiceI've always loved mustard. When I say mustard, I'm not talking about that run-of-the-mill yellow sunshine version. I mean <b style="font-style: italic;">mustard. </b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgylr7Yrnqp5ES7LJ5pQwXqxdgPLjvJyLGv56_tScdxbomt6VQlqV68TjiNbgfISxUiLCyzN-I_r-RBheS7VC4_RcwWPkiMQnP4kOQGkyexBV0HWjvsSvK3WQlB_6PEhFfLlianx6fo5h/s1600/12647091_10153881486086823_7633017641039288073_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgylr7Yrnqp5ES7LJ5pQwXqxdgPLjvJyLGv56_tScdxbomt6VQlqV68TjiNbgfISxUiLCyzN-I_r-RBheS7VC4_RcwWPkiMQnP4kOQGkyexBV0HWjvsSvK3WQlB_6PEhFfLlianx6fo5h/s320/12647091_10153881486086823_7633017641039288073_n.jpg" width="176" /></a>Spicy, brown, seeded - delicious. Even when I was little, I couldn't get enough of it. Mustard sandwiches were a favorite of mine. That spicy, dark yellow concoction spread between tiny pieces of baby rye bread was just perfection.<br />
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Why? I'm not really sure. Was it the spice? Perhaps. The vinegar? Could be - I'm a lover of vinegar too. Something about this perfect combination of flavors had me hooked early on and I just didn't know exactly why.<br />
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As I got older I discovered so many different brands and varieties. I couldn't believe the mustard world that was opening up but nothing compared to the heavenly goldmine I found when I was in Paris a few years ago.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGr3tBo5gFDkTzR-NR4GFsPZT5uWELcJeyuvWGIt5bvGBmChPA4UcXuVSWep4UJ3J0zLLJy1zCGClLESiAAT3reLVRCzN4IsYdSBI3Z4iznHTS7GNsoHHtslY_9S28LHatWc0gU_ZWhemh/s1600/mini+rye+bread.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGr3tBo5gFDkTzR-NR4GFsPZT5uWELcJeyuvWGIt5bvGBmChPA4UcXuVSWep4UJ3J0zLLJy1zCGClLESiAAT3reLVRCzN4IsYdSBI3Z4iznHTS7GNsoHHtslY_9S28LHatWc0gU_ZWhemh/s200/mini+rye+bread.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perfect bread for mustard Sammies</td></tr>
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It was an accident really. We were strolling along the Place de la Madeleine and there it was. Store number 6. Mustard Heaven. Or more commonly known as Maille.<br />
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I didn't realize that Paris could get even <i>more</i> perfect. They had their own mustard store. An entire store. Le Maison Maille, it's official name, has been producing for more than 267 years.<br />
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Started by Antoine Maille in 1747, he began selling vinegar and mustard and later attracted the attention of King Louis XV. He became the official supplier of the King and other monarchs of Europe. If it's good enough for Kings then it's good enough for me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRlYCjke0l2Ln8jvTnl1MQVy_k8tmQ_SSswmWd14lYH6W5euypj2WMf6_5BXDbcPT1V1b1IQnm_2zcOL205kL4K7N4XhmI84iIc6V2C6w2T9iMyBXxHf_d32TG1noghnnIyPuUhIbwIOs/s1600/1660648_10153881486191823_7090601271259676241_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidRlYCjke0l2Ln8jvTnl1MQVy_k8tmQ_SSswmWd14lYH6W5euypj2WMf6_5BXDbcPT1V1b1IQnm_2zcOL205kL4K7N4XhmI84iIc6V2C6w2T9iMyBXxHf_d32TG1noghnnIyPuUhIbwIOs/s320/1660648_10153881486191823_7090601271259676241_n.jpg" width="176" /></a>We walked in to walls and walls of bottled beauties beckoning to us. I didn't know where to begin. What's more perfect than mustard? <i>French mustard</i>. I headed to the counter. I saw beautiful porcelain jars. Specialty jars for the limited edition mustards.<br />
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Then I saw it. The tastings. Mustard tastings. Perfection. There were so many to taste that we really could have been there all day. And night.<br />
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I remained calm and chose just a few. Each one was better than the next. We made our selections and moved along. We bid farewell to our boutique and knew we'd have to come back someday.<br />
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Then, one day, Paris came to me. With mustard. As I walked down the street, I saw a new store getting ready to open and there it was. A sign. Not just any sign, but <i>the</i> sign. "<i>Maille</i> - <i>Opening Soon</i>". What?? Just two blocks from my office? I knew it was fate.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxBt-_CIzAhMbssooiYzPKU3lhRFNzYyqNARjAFEhW6LSDV2-oxIPXsNschvW9F91Mp5zqNYjcDRiT3H4bKZJWUW0F78eU7cOMo0dFiSTKAc4a7XiKeDtOE-O4qTYAt5V8IN5xURxp1h2o/s1600/1124_10153881486036823_7231814253335733760_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxBt-_CIzAhMbssooiYzPKU3lhRFNzYyqNARjAFEhW6LSDV2-oxIPXsNschvW9F91Mp5zqNYjcDRiT3H4bKZJWUW0F78eU7cOMo0dFiSTKAc4a7XiKeDtOE-O4qTYAt5V8IN5xURxp1h2o/s320/1124_10153881486036823_7231814253335733760_n.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Won these at the giveaway</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Mustard tastings and sampling mustard are just a few of the perks of being close to the store. There's Black Truffle and Chablis, Sauternes, Dijon with White Wine and they all come with the ceramic stoneware jar. Those are just the flavors at the pump.<br />
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Besides the dozens of other mustard flavors to choose from, they also offer many other goods as well. Balsamic vinegar, fruit vinegar, white wine vinegar, olive oils, cornichons and my favorite - the mustard spoon. Ideal for reaching that last little bit at the bottom of the jar so no mustard goes to waste. And no mustard should go to waste.<br />
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To learn more about Maille, you can visit their website:<br />
http://www.maille.com/en_US/mustards/mustard-on-tap/<br />
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Maille Paris:<br />
https://www.maille.com/en_US/boutiques?sid=paris<br />
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Maille NYC:<br />
https://www.maille.com/en_US/boutiques?sid=new_york<br />
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<br />Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-73843426496340064422016-01-20T09:43:00.003-08:002016-01-20T09:50:02.865-08:00Alice & Me in Scone Wonderland<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkz8LWD4YcL17T1POcoRuPIIwHcgGD1VcnGCSzWjXS66pMuMRQTJ6RZoKerDMwqX8Ys7AOnWnjWgXwNC9cDn8oUE0E9mSG-7M1A1-WaKZcdlwaSlGjnEs9IMXMHF_P4pMv0Jn5I1SkW2yl/s1600/12592303_10153864641431823_6514590559254628348_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkz8LWD4YcL17T1POcoRuPIIwHcgGD1VcnGCSzWjXS66pMuMRQTJ6RZoKerDMwqX8Ys7AOnWnjWgXwNC9cDn8oUE0E9mSG-7M1A1-WaKZcdlwaSlGjnEs9IMXMHF_P4pMv0Jn5I1SkW2yl/s320/12592303_10153864641431823_6514590559254628348_n.jpg" width="220" /></a>I'm a scone fiend. I'm not ashamed to admit that. Carbs and me, we're best friends. I'm not one to jump on the low-carb bandwagon. Hell no. Never. I need that crusty, flaky, chewy goodness.<br />
<br />
Baguettes, bagels, croissants and last but certainly not least, scones - I want them all. In vegan form. Yes, it's still possible to enjoy all of this heavenly breadness in vegan form. If it can be made, I will find it.<br />
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And find it I did. This time I hit the scone jackpot. It was just an accidental find. I was out walking one day when I passed the cute storefront with the purple awning with a sign that beckoned for the curious to come inside.<br />
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<i>I'm</i> curious. They must have been talking to me.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6EyUJdi-B6Z9wbpump5T9F2tlCerY9JMikUvLPUqHMm2zyyxkGUnuw5w-H3GNXjbnpygWe8T1BWLUnn1bi3TP18pVXYRoZGUDAN8yZp20Um53-UpXwkx0Ubs7q9L2dv0azGSX-QIvXD5P/s1600/12512818_10153864642481823_3160501018292738353_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6EyUJdi-B6Z9wbpump5T9F2tlCerY9JMikUvLPUqHMm2zyyxkGUnuw5w-H3GNXjbnpygWe8T1BWLUnn1bi3TP18pVXYRoZGUDAN8yZp20Um53-UpXwkx0Ubs7q9L2dv0azGSX-QIvXD5P/s320/12512818_10153864642481823_3160501018292738353_n.jpg" width="225" /></a>This was Alice's Tea Cup, Chapter I. Located on the upper west side, it is described on their website as New York's most whimsical tea house.<br />
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I walked in and saw a wonderland. Cakes and cookies lined the counter. The wall was filled with giant tea tins. But the highlight was right there under the glass. Scones. And more scones. And then there it was....the vegan scone.<br />
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I was sold. I didn't even care what flavor it was, I bought it. Sometimes I get a little too excited. I don't even remember what it was other than delicious because it brought me back. Again. And again. And again.<br />
<br />
I started to go every day. I got the scone card. A scone card! Buy 12, get one free. I bought one for me and one for Mike. Then my mom caught wind of my habit. She wanted in.<br />
<br />
Every day I looked forward to my trip to "the Cup". Sometimes I'd even get tea. Rose Sencha.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6SVrGJvJPnvlxuboWqfIcNBSkz3B3IReH4X34Rts6nJ2NISe1cj4qzNqX6YPDb9UIbzyulmXAw5AiEZo6LLj2MAE27OBMd9KhlakC0RRfLe5sJ1hvp53qf_bMYnlzGxyLQQYt9Wf5tJ3N/s1600/12376216_10153864641471823_8076497767319078334_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6SVrGJvJPnvlxuboWqfIcNBSkz3B3IReH4X34Rts6nJ2NISe1cj4qzNqX6YPDb9UIbzyulmXAw5AiEZo6LLj2MAE27OBMd9KhlakC0RRfLe5sJ1hvp53qf_bMYnlzGxyLQQYt9Wf5tJ3N/s320/12376216_10153864641471823_8076497767319078334_n.jpg" width="186" /></a>I would walk down the street with my pink bag and people would stop me, recognizing my bag. I once even tried to sneak a few scones home but my mom saw the pink bag and called me out on it, asking if I remembered to get her one.<br />
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I also knew the people that worked at Alice's Teacup. There was Alice (really), who is sweet and Jasmine, an actress and incredibly awesome. They knew me too.<br />
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Which led me to realize that my everyday scone habit was getting out of control. I knew I had to take it down a notch. I knew I had to scale it back to just a few days.<br />
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But which days? There were good scones and bad scones. How would I know? What if I missed the double-chocolate cinnamon day? The lemon poppy seed day? The chocolate banana day? I wasn't sure I wanted to take that chance.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUNE9f3Br42Jw8mSK6JyqYUK69LSsIRmtB6FWAjKRO_dLkZo7awTsc0D16r5EP0eAXV7oWYzulSs2rILp26ncq0NCQ3hdiOwqmRtDOgPLx724hSvCSnDJM43AXKRmXi1FXe6OdHvPfURZg/s1600/12522992_10153864641511823_3005196069907311483_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUNE9f3Br42Jw8mSK6JyqYUK69LSsIRmtB6FWAjKRO_dLkZo7awTsc0D16r5EP0eAXV7oWYzulSs2rILp26ncq0NCQ3hdiOwqmRtDOgPLx724hSvCSnDJM43AXKRmXi1FXe6OdHvPfURZg/s320/12522992_10153864641511823_3005196069907311483_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lemon Poppy Seed for sharing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Until the weather changed. New York City in January. Cold. Very cold. What if I walked the 7 blocks for my scones and it was a pear walnut scone day? Did I really want to walk in the cold for a "bad" scone day?<br />
<br />
The cold helped break my habit and the phone helped me decide which days I would make the trek. I call daily, get the vegan scone of the day.<br />
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Yes, I'm obsessed. When you find a good thing it's hard to let go.<br />
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<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/AVvXsEiSBK3UjGNxAYavYCfu55H1EFyrvK-UhWpqWxgyrMK8TTXWVjg02xvumhn8Ex5pxOgqK4wLd7QD9BXmKZ02o1_KFEy60pFs3EZ2hTa6gUmXxG3JDwGUNO11q9wD5IzMhcMR9kGBIQrGeXgm/s1600/12552811_10153864641551823_7783313497348544804_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBK3UjGNxAYavYCfu55H1EFyrvK-UhWpqWxgyrMK8TTXWVjg02xvumhn8Ex5pxOgqK4wLd7QD9BXmKZ02o1_KFEy60pFs3EZ2hTa6gUmXxG3JDwGUNO11q9wD5IzMhcMR9kGBIQrGeXgm/s320/12552811_10153864641551823_7783313497348544804_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a few bites now, some later</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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To visit any of the Alice's Teacup locations, go to their website: http://alicesteacup.com/<br />
<br />Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-9564814684127295202016-01-15T06:40:00.002-08:002016-01-15T06:41:45.781-08:00The Hole<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5mImn6ELW-CwZKVcMqhPmz5gz68Ph_ic8fhL_nZE6KPLra-E-FPQ_Wl7p2_ImDHFQmfXBxXYgaqK_WeK67UvwohIfNFpI43657H-uz53AjurCYAukgJxIGmai6uTJF_tEqmuMCIoA3d-F/s1600/12195876_10153711936221823_3604855691770779956_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5mImn6ELW-CwZKVcMqhPmz5gz68Ph_ic8fhL_nZE6KPLra-E-FPQ_Wl7p2_ImDHFQmfXBxXYgaqK_WeK67UvwohIfNFpI43657H-uz53AjurCYAukgJxIGmai6uTJF_tEqmuMCIoA3d-F/s320/12195876_10153711936221823_3604855691770779956_n.jpg" width="176" /></a></div>
Ah, the Hole. It really just came out of nowhere. Well, TripAdvisor actually. It sort of just popped up on the screen when I was looking at places to visit. Almost like a sign. --->Go Here<<br />
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It all started when Mike and I tossed out the idea of going to Turks & Caicos. We weren't sure we'd be able to go but then we won travel tickets as the top fundraisers for the charity we work with and planning soon begun.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtDYBc2_1QuU2u14M42Qord_8lfog-LJ9KS4aJGZOUyEZd7F_Uv_dkkeBrMkz3OFp0L_mXnGvwhftXkf0nRGbgc-Sc589R3UK-USF3iBIvUIzJ69uvYBrxi5TkytQYKkcQ92gxiPqJYbN/s1600/12208862_10153711936361823_9090683160024527612_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtDYBc2_1QuU2u14M42Qord_8lfog-LJ9KS4aJGZOUyEZd7F_Uv_dkkeBrMkz3OFp0L_mXnGvwhftXkf0nRGbgc-Sc589R3UK-USF3iBIvUIzJ69uvYBrxi5TkytQYKkcQ92gxiPqJYbN/s320/12208862_10153711936361823_9090683160024527612_n.jpg" width="176" /></a>On TripAdvisor, the Hole was described like this, "get ready to go to the "Hole" located in Long Bay in Providenciales. This naturally formed massive limestone 40 foot hole is on the list of things to see. People can be lowered down a rope where 80 feet down there is a swimming hole. For adventurous souls only!".<br />
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I was intrigued. When I thought of vacations, dream spots, beaches and what to do while there, visiting something called The Hole wasn't something that was at the top of my list. But I like adventure. I was in.<br />
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Although I'm not a big fan of tours. I've always felt that I can do a better job of seeing an area on my own. I generally have two schools of thought on my travel - wing it (I'm a big fan of this and can honestly say it's been a great ride every time) and research. As I've gotten older, I've turned more to research. Not because it's necessarily the better way but because I don't want to miss anything.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0BFcQrx6j9EtTbdoGMhYw4jNrwDX4oyKoqt3vNjVDZPwlU9nZeGoGcd9NA4CuLjOKHcRMs30qWzotUtWdbo2kgMQAxmhdN0sPV6qU6RIQK3HgccLhDbpgmr_igs_g_ti1IUPwmkD3s8G/s1600/12188946_10153711936191823_7699161660475475772_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0BFcQrx6j9EtTbdoGMhYw4jNrwDX4oyKoqt3vNjVDZPwlU9nZeGoGcd9NA4CuLjOKHcRMs30qWzotUtWdbo2kgMQAxmhdN0sPV6qU6RIQK3HgccLhDbpgmr_igs_g_ti1IUPwmkD3s8G/s320/12188946_10153711936191823_7699161660475475772_n.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The warning sign</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So TripAdvisor has come in very handy and has given us some great options. We don't always have to use them but we've gotten some great tips and suggestions. We got to Turks, and our very amazing TripAdvisor-suggested hotel, and were set to explore.<br />
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We looked at the tour books in our room and they also suggested a tour. For $$$. Whatever. We're our own tour guides. We mapped out a route, grabbed our bags, packed water and snacks and hit the road. Not a bad hike but not too close either. We walked about 2 miles to get there. We were excited. The sites and the books had talked this place up. I couldn't wait to see this swimming hole.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdlFBjBI5gzl4junGDcrVhNeRHCHFZyrV_Ap8UQylC-PGClRoO8psh2NeJokbzVQiDB9tIjqaTRhEKqx38Pfsb9iv-5wD636HnxWs_yflDqPQST9-roKKxY4IMk113t40shE_Rx3GxV7b/s1600/12189665_10153711936291823_5219173655195036440_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdlFBjBI5gzl4junGDcrVhNeRHCHFZyrV_Ap8UQylC-PGClRoO8psh2NeJokbzVQiDB9tIjqaTRhEKqx38Pfsb9iv-5wD636HnxWs_yflDqPQST9-roKKxY4IMk113t40shE_Rx3GxV7b/s320/12189665_10153711936291823_5219173655195036440_n.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A glimpse into the Hole</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We passed dogs roaming free, mosquitoes, dirt roads, more dirt roads, beautiful views and a very interesting warning sign. And then....there it was...The Hole.<br />
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Just in case you weren't sure you were in the right spot, the large rock with a hole in it that stated "The Hole" was a good indication that yes, this is it.<br />
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There wasn't a soul around. Not a sound either. I'm not exaggerating. We started to wonder if this was a joke. Could all of the guide books AND TripAdvisor have been wrong? Could this really be one of the hot spots to see?<br />
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We were here and we weren't going to leave without seeing what it was all about. We walked down the gravel path, through some shrubs and there it was. Or wasn't. Sure, there was a hole. Could you climb down? Probably. Would you want to? No. Swim in it? Absolutely not.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg72t6QKt_39CHgkVu-khlULEyqhFn9sLQ89eEv6irMZREIBHYT6mMDETkqAbLMIkK_oXnqrwet-xh-6kWCIryg1ObdrYlbEnSMaSL92cMjOJ1h5q3oR6aO-BGZN7XZQMy_Ma5yXSNzkn3/s1600/12227124_10153711936426823_6584274944195984372_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg72t6QKt_39CHgkVu-khlULEyqhFn9sLQ89eEv6irMZREIBHYT6mMDETkqAbLMIkK_oXnqrwet-xh-6kWCIryg1ObdrYlbEnSMaSL92cMjOJ1h5q3oR6aO-BGZN7XZQMy_Ma5yXSNzkn3/s320/12227124_10153711936426823_6584274944195984372_n.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A View from Above</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I went close enough to the edge to peer down into this wondrous abyss. From what I read, I pictured rappelling down the sides into a pool of crystal blue waters. Nope and nope. Before stepping up to the edge, it looked like an interesting cliff with mysteries inside. I wanted to go.<br />
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My head popped over the edge and I saw.....brown water. Brown water? Not in the Hole. And garbage? There's garbage down in the Hole? Say it isn't so! Is nothing sacred? Ah, poor Hole.<br />
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There you have it. The saga of getting to the Hole. Was it worth it? Of course it was. If we didn't go, we'd still wonder what it was all about. Like always, it was an adventure - we had fun getting there and we were able to explore more of the island.<br />
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And that sign. We wouldn't have seen that fabulous warning sign. Most of all, we were happy that we saved money (more for shopping!) and did it on our own.<br />
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<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/AVvXsEjQJSMGP7KEOFzEezCFk7TPCuqMAOGEADsZ8QRcZpszIwgqrSTHPLs-oxKbegB8a99KCtSjMsPCgn-MelK9rX9zy2ZDX9QaPuHOQnUBoO9SWY9IPqVavW3kGsNRYn6i8Ri9uQn_iTXnt-i1/s1600/IMG_0292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQJSMGP7KEOFzEezCFk7TPCuqMAOGEADsZ8QRcZpszIwgqrSTHPLs-oxKbegB8a99KCtSjMsPCgn-MelK9rX9zy2ZDX9QaPuHOQnUBoO9SWY9IPqVavW3kGsNRYn6i8Ri9uQn_iTXnt-i1/s320/IMG_0292.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Much needed pool time after a long hike to The Hole</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF9RXu4vv9l41eKcMQwa9oMCQ3fnWbn_C5hxijzqX1-pP6qZUPZhtDUoPpPadY0e4moyhIJZgIPKqeoqB3YCxP9_FMdMFUXCv_VMmM7Tmbj2ANHej_mD00VpUyl9NlGPgtTxqsXpZmpS4i/s1600/IMG_0294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF9RXu4vv9l41eKcMQwa9oMCQ3fnWbn_C5hxijzqX1-pP6qZUPZhtDUoPpPadY0e4moyhIJZgIPKqeoqB3YCxP9_FMdMFUXCv_VMmM7Tmbj2ANHej_mD00VpUyl9NlGPgtTxqsXpZmpS4i/s320/IMG_0294.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relaxing after a long hike to The Hole</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-74001474710525230832015-07-27T06:15:00.000-07:002015-07-27T06:15:29.469-07:00Just Monkeying Around<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTUFXNoE8XQtMb3NS6WtIJTGiBFe2D8VierO-OuEUrIZ1619aEvRqPAuw_MZMfdAcmu0jPgwYRDFJim9U0-VtUUhNBv9SahiStzTQ60q3HF2ZZIIC6aypKetx7IxP-aoYa3VDES49byC1b/s1600/airsurf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTUFXNoE8XQtMb3NS6WtIJTGiBFe2D8VierO-OuEUrIZ1619aEvRqPAuw_MZMfdAcmu0jPgwYRDFJim9U0-VtUUhNBv9SahiStzTQ60q3HF2ZZIIC6aypKetx7IxP-aoYa3VDES49byC1b/s200/airsurf.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Blue Course</td></tr>
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There's nothing I love more than a good obstacle course. Well, actually, that might not be true but that would be another post. However, I DO love obstacle courses. And heights. And zip-lining. Okay, so there are a lot of things I love. My point here is that I love adventure. I'm always on the hunt for new and exciting things for us to do.<br />
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I'm so addicted to these courses that I even submit myself to torture of some sort so that I can play on them. What torture might you ask? The torture of Running. I'm sure many of you have seen the various 5k's and 5 mile runs, complete with obstacle courses, promising a day of fun.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOF7xQjofrFJIsjM5GMM1IORA8HhXJots4EIMvdF8Iwvt9bpXIFNwuoy8036RH430XFHC9mbASF14MYudOw1vUB0i-GtXC3YnvECDF800Y3vxSpck9ut793KKFQT91HI7Oyeh2rMXrc7Ly/s1600/logs+blue+trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOF7xQjofrFJIsjM5GMM1IORA8HhXJots4EIMvdF8Iwvt9bpXIFNwuoy8036RH430XFHC9mbASF14MYudOw1vUB0i-GtXC3YnvECDF800Y3vxSpck9ut793KKFQT91HI7Oyeh2rMXrc7Ly/s200/logs+blue+trail.jpg" width="110" /></a>Somehow, I always block out the running part and zoom in on the course part. They get me every time. I sign up, so excited for climbing, jumping, balancing - then the reality sinks in. I must run. A lot.<br />
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I still do it. I can't help it.<br />
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I was finally able to find a place where I can kiss that running goodbye. Until the next race that is. The Adventure Park at Long Island. Release your inner Monkey! I first discovered this place last year thanks to a friend. I was hooked. Obstacle courses in the trees? I mean, really, it couldn't get much better. Twelve different courses, ranging from easy to very hard, beckoned to me. I was in my happy place.<br />
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When you arrive at the Park, you have to go through a brief training each time, great for first timers, a nice refresher for those of us that haven't been in a while. I was raring to go. Just seeing the zip-line in action had me hopping up and down. We completed our mini training course and ran to the starting line.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFXdVBh-EWFBHFcpDuPhV9iy14s0jNxjIj9j7uws-T9fPXyWF7IgqsUjOoBQolTbz7BEFZFWxgJI6vyQGfVCMGHQjdQAGcf4MLA3nkGvDxXJMUA5q-jrplvu3LOT7_WxJ1XzxCHk1qDrnD/s1600/rope+blue+trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFXdVBh-EWFBHFcpDuPhV9iy14s0jNxjIj9j7uws-T9fPXyWF7IgqsUjOoBQolTbz7BEFZFWxgJI6vyQGfVCMGHQjdQAGcf4MLA3nkGvDxXJMUA5q-jrplvu3LOT7_WxJ1XzxCHk1qDrnD/s200/rope+blue+trail.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue Course</td></tr>
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There are 3 Yellow courses (beginner), 3 Green courses (almost beginner), 3 Blue (getting better), 1 Black (hard) and 1 Double Black (very hard). Each trail has an "escape route" halfway through the course, a.k.a, the quitters route. It's a zip-line where you can exit from the course if you don't think you can continue or if you don't feel like being on that course anymore.<br />
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Our goal from the first moment we had arrived was to conquer the Double Black course. Baby steps. We had to work our way up.<br />
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We breezed through the easy Green. Same for Blue. Sure, there were a few hang ups (no pun intended), but we flew through that course and before we knew it were standing before the Black. Without a second thought, we were up that ladder. No going back.<br />
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We were alone. No worries about rushing or waiting. Perfection. We made our way through the fun, high zip-lines and tricky obstacles. For the first time we encountered a hard spot....THE TRIANGLES. It was touch and go for a bit. I knew we'd make it but not without some bruises. All a part of the game.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0vy35J6MUsJXSM7IHycZ2fjPbSgmAa9DCTNGe909BIkNl7k4p1YlgQoFP_FBOuZxqgLdFGC6M5wCcndXsveLT7v3FilwzxOi_9_5oqtRNry4qjEPzAwgDFabYeQ-m7krnU1Vphqr94Lst/s1600/double+black.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0vy35J6MUsJXSM7IHycZ2fjPbSgmAa9DCTNGe909BIkNl7k4p1YlgQoFP_FBOuZxqgLdFGC6M5wCcndXsveLT7v3FilwzxOi_9_5oqtRNry4qjEPzAwgDFabYeQ-m7krnU1Vphqr94Lst/s200/double+black.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Double Black</td></tr>
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Black was great but it was challenging and we needed a break before we got to the ultimate goal: Double Black. We were ready. I was ready. Maybe. Yes, yes, we were ready. We headed up. And up. We were tired and made a deal that if we couldn't do it we would take the escape route. I knew I would never quit once I got up there. I was in for good.<br />
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Those triangles I mentioned earlier? Yup, we found worse. I called them The Discs. I knew I could do it. Had to do it. I would find a way, my way, anyway. I won't lie - it was hard, very hard, but we got through it. Tired and hot, we came to the escape route. We looked ahead and saw the most amazing zip-line. Escape route, zip-line. There was no question of what to do. We forged on. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8V0vv4cGu3SfPN6-i_8Z4clzW-1cPmXC2LLBWOQOXA5vClU24t7HPocaVHeipdvuYIBgMeFoVOaC1gGXf1e_RAn53KrqltHY3UtqUuIeJW8BQG09QU5N10izVcZVwzbLaWxgb12uD4UQ/s1600/logs+double+black+trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8V0vv4cGu3SfPN6-i_8Z4clzW-1cPmXC2LLBWOQOXA5vClU24t7HPocaVHeipdvuYIBgMeFoVOaC1gGXf1e_RAn53KrqltHY3UtqUuIeJW8BQG09QU5N10izVcZVwzbLaWxgb12uD4UQ/s200/logs+double+black+trail.jpg" width="110" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Double Black Course</td></tr>
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As we kept going, we actually saw people on the course with us. We weren't alone! Surprised that there were others who braved Double Black, we paused to watch how they would conquer The Discs. Some did, some cheated. They zip-lined across and avoided the challenge. Disappointed, we turned and climbed on.<br />
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Double Black is a shorter course than the others because of its difficulty. We only had a few more obstacles to get through and we made it. We felt so accomplished when we jumped off of that final element and slowly made our way to the ground. Would we do it again? Probably not. Our goal, my goal, was to do it and I did. We did. Now I can come back and do all of the fun courses and relax when I climb. And I will be back.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pURpZ73hoUG1zYF5AKnnqEj4_nPUxlY7pM8i10Y0IRR5to8NZJZPS7xJ97fA-M-Twp2yBLCIMHMHx_INg1mxh_isLMG6lHpVx-hQ069kM3YM_ECPkOPqdnI8d_lxARNVWp08RFQ_6t3_/s1600/we+made+it.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pURpZ73hoUG1zYF5AKnnqEj4_nPUxlY7pM8i10Y0IRR5to8NZJZPS7xJ97fA-M-Twp2yBLCIMHMHx_INg1mxh_isLMG6lHpVx-hQ069kM3YM_ECPkOPqdnI8d_lxARNVWp08RFQ_6t3_/s320/we+made+it.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We came, we saw, we conquered. </td></tr>
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If you'd like to visit the park, check out their website:</div>
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http://longislandadventurepark.org/</div>
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Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-30816192580713610672015-06-21T09:20:00.000-07:002015-06-21T09:20:34.916-07:00Just Another Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX6NaKAvH78Ww-DHWASCp64HHX6vMz5LBH8JVLgxeO9lOpOFyWORgcJ1MmiZq6r3J94v2Di-KnxYnClXDAI6YXIrLWzR3Nyw_nsoXEtdM5Si_oSIRn43WkvS0SD23qeVu86avLU3z0-e2a/s1600/bob+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX6NaKAvH78Ww-DHWASCp64HHX6vMz5LBH8JVLgxeO9lOpOFyWORgcJ1MmiZq6r3J94v2Di-KnxYnClXDAI6YXIrLWzR3Nyw_nsoXEtdM5Si_oSIRn43WkvS0SD23qeVu86avLU3z0-e2a/s320/bob+1.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Ah, Father's day. A time when we can all spend that one day basking in the awesomeness of Dads everywhere. A time when we look all around us at commercials and ads touting what we should do for that special guy. Gifts for that great Pop in your life. Dinners for the big man.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Except what if you don't have a dad anymore? Your first thought is, damn, this sucks. Really sucks. You start to ignore it all. Then you think you should plan a day of craptastic un-dad like events. If everyone is celebrating their dad and you can't participate, maybe un-Father's day is the way to go.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Then you realize, why un-celebrate who your dad <i>is</i> just because he's not physically here anymore when you can celebrate the total awesomeness of who he <i>was</i>. And really, everyone knows that my dad was fab-u-lous.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOf1NTSFXLrhW1PrC-h2ympUh_ceFx-dH-bBE0mzE5DzD2jDKwpsyxL-Z3USA8Q_A18OnBvI2Hca8eUZbuywX23rGJKrfqAC0Ingzmro6hMFkAPZNA-oY6U9Z70HgXMe_eyI-gvrEdxxIz/s1600/street+sign.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOf1NTSFXLrhW1PrC-h2ympUh_ceFx-dH-bBE0mzE5DzD2jDKwpsyxL-Z3USA8Q_A18OnBvI2Hca8eUZbuywX23rGJKrfqAC0Ingzmro6hMFkAPZNA-oY6U9Z70HgXMe_eyI-gvrEdxxIz/s200/street+sign.png" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Everyone thinks they have the best father. Well, mostly everyone. Except I really did have the best one. No, seriously. He was so awesome they named a street after him. True story. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Okay, so maybe he wasn't <i>always</i> awesome all the time. Sure, he could be a pain in the ass. Hey, aren't most parents like that? I'll admit, there were times that he drove me crazy. A lot. Like when he stole my bread. My special dairy free, $3.99-a-loaf, I walked 10 blocks from work to get that, kind of bread. I always yelled at him to leave it alone. He never did. So I started to buy two loaves. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Then there was the worst offense - he stole my champagne at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Nobody steals my champagne. Nobody. I'm not ashamed to admit that I was <i>not</i> happy at that moment.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmst7X2cuzLP4THiHUs-aHZXIdCwft6yiwE4bnBWq7uMLKN727wkFEKn07lG2AKmQAmKCzkPvZb8Dn71bjnVMXrsj3k5WFSvdK-wNRLpOQrNQ4z9RhGjlzscfYXLEZkYh9KJF1IHUFmPyY/s1600/eiffel+tower+champagne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmst7X2cuzLP4THiHUs-aHZXIdCwft6yiwE4bnBWq7uMLKN727wkFEKn07lG2AKmQAmKCzkPvZb8Dn71bjnVMXrsj3k5WFSvdK-wNRLpOQrNQ4z9RhGjlzscfYXLEZkYh9KJF1IHUFmPyY/s200/eiffel+tower+champagne.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Champagne steal at Eiffel Tower</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">BUT through theft of my food and drink, he <i>was</i> entertaining. And we did share a love of a good cocktail (hence my stolen bubbly). After all, in the words of my dad, "it's always 5 o'clock somewhere".</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjSNjPEManUVveNLFCZRbnX8aA8AdmIpgrhjgr1uPfgEF5nAMlxIeBEw_SeLL0D3lHjAZLLochBpcyIyKNj19pib4ONHQL-38ZkqxDfOj5mZPpAkxoHr5tJHVFtyAMfwJJeTQUZ-39riP/s1600/fan+club.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjSNjPEManUVveNLFCZRbnX8aA8AdmIpgrhjgr1uPfgEF5nAMlxIeBEw_SeLL0D3lHjAZLLochBpcyIyKNj19pib4ONHQL-38ZkqxDfOj5mZPpAkxoHr5tJHVFtyAMfwJJeTQUZ-39riP/s200/fan+club.jpg" width="127" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">What I loved most about my father was that he wasn't a rule follower. By this, I mean that he had his own set of rules, he did his own thing. If he wanted to do something, he did it. (See paragraph above). If he didn't feel like doing something, he didn't. Sounds like someone else I know....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He also loved hanging out with my friends and he loved their nicknames too. If they didn't already have nicknames then he made them up. There was the friend he dubbed "The Bod". There was "Funk" and ah yes, there was the Doofy Award recipient (she knows who she is). We even had a fan club newsletter dedicated just to him, aptly named "The Robert C. Lohnes Fan Club". I know, catchy.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD75RXOJpqlBWB0wIjWFaTFEmiliT3aXwirmsBN3bg3cvUDZpW9ZcaYCp6uToEmqDEIabIY8v3_qecMWSbuGs1JbIAlFsWLG3En5sA-PIHEzR65UN9M3jRZRmT2Ih9QFHQ_FYD3wqoBT0I/s1600/wolf+howl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">My dad always told me stories of growing up in Astoria. Always mischievous of course. A favorite one of mine was the Coyote Club. He was so amused by his old Coyote Club stories that he would call me up and leave howling messages on my voice mail. No hellos, just howling. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD75RXOJpqlBWB0wIjWFaTFEmiliT3aXwirmsBN3bg3cvUDZpW9ZcaYCp6uToEmqDEIabIY8v3_qecMWSbuGs1JbIAlFsWLG3En5sA-PIHEzR65UN9M3jRZRmT2Ih9QFHQ_FYD3wqoBT0I/s1600/wolf+howl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD75RXOJpqlBWB0wIjWFaTFEmiliT3aXwirmsBN3bg3cvUDZpW9ZcaYCp6uToEmqDEIabIY8v3_qecMWSbuGs1JbIAlFsWLG3En5sA-PIHEzR65UN9M3jRZRmT2Ih9QFHQ_FYD3wqoBT0I/s200/wolf+howl.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">There were so many adventures and not just with me, but with my friends as well. That is what I loved best. He came out to play with all of us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I remember us strawberry picking with Sarah and Nicole, followed by wine tasting on Long Island, NY. Hot Air Ballooning over the Temecula Valley. Blackberry picking in Ramona, CA. Road trips across the United States and up the California coast. Wine Tasting in Sonoma County. A Can Can Show in Paris. A road trip to Nova Scotia with Mike. Kayaking, whitewater rafting, Broadway shows, Fraunces Tavern - we had so many adventures. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So many adventures but not nearly enough. It's never enough though, is it? But we can look back on all the amazing times we <i>did</i> have, all the fun things we shared together, and raise our glasses in celebration to my dad, to your dad, to all of our amazing dads - because no matter what the time - never forget that it's always 5 o'clock somewhere.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad holding my beloved Lambie</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtfPiMxEUDP87Hfrpr-9mUhRNhVeMkun0X2DJ5ypUc7XvzPO3bnpx4LvdELZa44O4VAoF5dQP1oZjyvlQsujWj-_b8vaN6uCgcxUX4dUxDU0zahmlfEj-5ax8MnLmDHoLj3gpRSmy-bU9/s1600/bob3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtfPiMxEUDP87Hfrpr-9mUhRNhVeMkun0X2DJ5ypUc7XvzPO3bnpx4LvdELZa44O4VAoF5dQP1oZjyvlQsujWj-_b8vaN6uCgcxUX4dUxDU0zahmlfEj-5ax8MnLmDHoLj3gpRSmy-bU9/s320/bob3.jpg" width="304" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working hard - my rare topless moment</td></tr>
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Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-7724297912774401592015-04-16T08:24:00.001-07:002015-04-16T08:24:22.854-07:00Weekends in New York<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morgan Ave, Brooklyn</td></tr>
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I love discovering new things. I also love walking around new (and old) neighborhoods. This is why New York is such an interesting place. Even in the winter, which I hate, there is always something going on.<br />
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Not that I'm always out discovering it. I've been a hermit for so long thanks to this brutal weather that I know I've missed out on so much. I do not like missing out on anything. But that's over now. It's spring. It's supposed to be warm. Which means me, outside, exploring.<br />
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My latest explorations have taken me from Manhattan to Brooklyn and back again. While I say explorations, some might say obsessions. I've mentioned it before and it definitely warrants multiple mentions. The Macaron.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grattan Street, Brooklyn</td></tr>
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Ah, the Macaron. Such perfection. I first became smitten with this little orb of perfection on one of my trips to Paris. Of course the perfect city would have the perfect treat. I was in love. I wanted more. I always needed more.<br />
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Then I began following a vegan diet. I thought it was the end of my pillows of perfection. Until I discovered Sweet Maresa's. It was an accidental find at my first vegan pop-up shop a few months ago. I began following where they would go next.<br />
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This is how we wound up in Bushwick, Brooklyn at the Pine Box Rock Shop. Our mission was quick - get in, get the goods, get out. I was pretty good that day, unusual for me. I'm weak, I admit. But our adventures always start from one idea and morph into another. <br />
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We left the Rock Shop and walked into a tour group. Odd. We didn't think there was anything around here to tour. That's when we noticed our surroundings. It wasn't just any tour - it was an Art Tour. That's when we saw them. All over most of the buildings. Grattan Street, Morgan Avenue, Knickerbocker Ave - Wall Art. We could have driven around all day just looking at Art. But we had more to discover.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Central Park South</td></tr>
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Our next adventure took us to Manhattan. We're always guaranteed to find something interesting in the park and what a find! Spools and spools of rope. Thanks to the Public Art Fund we found "Desire Lines" by Tatiana Trouve. On display March 3 though August 30, 2015.</div>
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Each spool is wound with rope equivalent in length to a corresponding pathway and is labeled to identify its location in the park. There are 212 spools and each pathway has a title drawn from culture. Seeing giant spools at the entrance to the park was definitely something that was going to get our attention.<br />
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Of course I found the spool that referenced Paris. What else would go with the macarons?<br />
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We had night plans so it was home for a quick change and back out for Broadway time. What goes better with the theme of macarons & Paris better? Why none other than....An American in Paris!<br />
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This was one show I couldn't miss and I wasn't disappointed. The lead danced like Gene Kelly and just thinking about being in Paris was enough to keep a smile on my face the entire time. The dancing was mostly balletic so if you enjoy dancing this is a great show, or if you just enjoy Broadway in general it's a great show.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNh2vU48dymt1Nl2UqdeJSrKxHsDqkAXwFIEPxfS-i2xQvX0SnlU4VoKECjLhROxOennQz6WxrLltRUzfbPtJLk92I72n6u4G7wQkP_vnxvKEQ5tjj9MHL6hDl8ednP6MVCWzGHdJWHvFM/s1600/AmericanInParis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNh2vU48dymt1Nl2UqdeJSrKxHsDqkAXwFIEPxfS-i2xQvX0SnlU4VoKECjLhROxOennQz6WxrLltRUzfbPtJLk92I72n6u4G7wQkP_vnxvKEQ5tjj9MHL6hDl8ednP6MVCWzGHdJWHvFM/s1600/AmericanInParis.jpg" height="320" width="176" /></a>We weren't ready to head home so we went across the street to the Maple, a place we scouted earlier in the night. Paris was still in the air and I went with it.<br />
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The French Cocktail. St~Germain. Perfect. Gin, muddled mint, lemon juice, simple syrup, topped with Proseco. I controlled myself and stopped at one. Only because I knew the last bus was coming or else who knows what would have happened.....<br />
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Before I knew it another week had gone by and it was time for new discoveries. New discoveries and old favorites. By this I mean Macaron time. In a new location. We had run out. I couldn't have that. I wasn't alone in my desires for puffs of heaven though. Mike was in on my quest.<br />
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I did some research. The next vegan pop-up shop was at Moo Shoes. Uh oh. This looked like trouble. In my quest for macarons I was being sent to a shoe store. This couldn't be good.<br />
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It wasn't. I mean, yes it <i>was</i> good. It was beyond good. IT WAS AMAZING. There were macarons and chocolate and those delicious Yeah Dawgs, and shoes, shoes, SHOES! <br />
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I didn't know where to go first. But then I saw it. Tiny pillows in every color. I ran. Well, walked fast. I wasn't the only one excited. There was almost a fight on that macaron line. Apparently this woman didn't get the "no cutting" memo. I would have thrown her down but the mood around me was all zen and shit. I couldn't let it get to me. I was seconds away from more bites of Heaven.<br />
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Besides, I used my line time to scout for shoes. Of course I found a pair. Cute little mauve flats with a bow. It was a successful mission. The best part was Moo Shoes is just around the corner from BabyCakes. Baked doughnuts, savory biscuits and chocolate dipped Madeleines - yes, it was a <i>very</i> successful day.<br />
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For more information on the places I've mentioned, please visit their websites:</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">www.</span><b style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">pineboxrockshop</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">.com</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">www.</span><b style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">publicartfund</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">.org</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">www.an</span><b style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">americaninparisbroadway</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">.com</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">www.</span><b style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">maplenyc</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">.com</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">www.</span><b style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">mooshoes</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">.com</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">www.</span><b style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">yeahdawg</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">vegan.com</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: nowrap;">www.erinmckennasbakery.com</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0a9Yz3J0O_-pESwOst68_qqilQ8PNKoZJg6gwogGFDEw_MGjWiaQT_U92SMnjVYTwk1mkEuHfl_o0QNSeWuIisr-rwVG-02Trb5-CM2fOecFjI6dlTJW8Pv5-cjRsPlt4FoYcM2FbZQT/s1600/Central+Park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0a9Yz3J0O_-pESwOst68_qqilQ8PNKoZJg6gwogGFDEw_MGjWiaQT_U92SMnjVYTwk1mkEuHfl_o0QNSeWuIisr-rwVG-02Trb5-CM2fOecFjI6dlTJW8Pv5-cjRsPlt4FoYcM2FbZQT/s1600/Central+Park.jpg" height="320" width="161" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Central Park West</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5uQRGN97aZD-Ofqkeqir_xzOSK5XIJ6wblErfjeWgn5EP9CwANBPK1AyNOwSc9_d4a2VgUZTqjMGaYiEnfipRtSVI04qM8VrFCJrETiyXIbA_ZTiJiA0JnD45XCiWAaZ88YiNDiCm9Gl/s1600/the+seed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5uQRGN97aZD-Ofqkeqir_xzOSK5XIJ6wblErfjeWgn5EP9CwANBPK1AyNOwSc9_d4a2VgUZTqjMGaYiEnfipRtSVI04qM8VrFCJrETiyXIbA_ZTiJiA0JnD45XCiWAaZ88YiNDiCm9Gl/s1600/the+seed.jpg" height="136" width="200" /></a></div>
I love snacks. I'm not ashamed to admit it. More often than not, I think I can choose snacks over "regular" food. It used to be that I was more of a dessert person but I've gotten better. I've branched out. The possibilities are endless. Especially with the amazing choices of healthy snacks that you can find today. I try, really, I do.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6em_UqB5ZraY0JwBKS-OR_cZNhYod7dJwPZ5Yda1jNZoAQvu8fL4DM2o_Y6GnavY38J6DOn7cP5rP43fIWZE6X8O6x4L4px0U167gzOk1qL4zwns3BDznXovQPkvBzbAMYZ9E-hLvrc9l/s1600/yeah+dawg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6em_UqB5ZraY0JwBKS-OR_cZNhYod7dJwPZ5Yda1jNZoAQvu8fL4DM2o_Y6GnavY38J6DOn7cP5rP43fIWZE6X8O6x4L4px0U167gzOk1qL4zwns3BDznXovQPkvBzbAMYZ9E-hLvrc9l/s1600/yeah+dawg.jpg" height="320" width="162" /></a>I started the day out pretty good. Had my smoothie and headed out to The Seed Market, the monthly pop-up vegan market at 135 West 18th Street. I was excited to see what selection of vendors would be out today. I'd heard about a few new ones that I couldn't wait to try and there was always room for sampling.<br />
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I am weak. I want to establish that right now before I continue. I walked through the door and all hope was lost. Hope for self-control. There was the Cheese lady. Why hello! Is that mushroom pate I see? In my bag. It was incredibly delicious....and mine. All mine.<br />
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Next was Yeah Dawg! For anyone that has ever tried a vegan hot dog you may think, uh oh. But don't let that fool you. I have heard about this place from social media and from a co-worker who vends with them. Word was great. I was excited. The dog did not disappoint. I was very happy. Cooked to perfection with toppings that were just right. No ketchup Mike. I need these for BBQ season. If it ever gets here...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbquanZV9WKTXm6RMqPh8sx95wumNWxfzUVkD9Jw5imgvtd7W7SXrmyO9kOJ40SAwOyjYwGx7dNrHHLVl3-VBAo3yZmbY9Fd17fCgmbwAko_fGoebVUCa7px_0Up7GPP-_eS-52l0Q158o/s1600/gone++pie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbquanZV9WKTXm6RMqPh8sx95wumNWxfzUVkD9Jw5imgvtd7W7SXrmyO9kOJ40SAwOyjYwGx7dNrHHLVl3-VBAo3yZmbY9Fd17fCgmbwAko_fGoebVUCa7px_0Up7GPP-_eS-52l0Q158o/s1600/gone++pie.jpg" height="168" width="200" /></a>I turned a corner and there it was. Beams of light shining on a Chocolate Heaven. Gone Pie Vegan Bakery. I'd been following this bakery for a while, reading about the delicious chocolaty confections and wondering when I'd be able to partake.<br />
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I ran over and didn't know where to begin. So I took them all. Just kidding. I looked over all the chocolate goodness and chose a peanut butter rice crisp treat, a peanut butter brownie, junior mint balls & to balance out all of my chocolate, a few lemon cookies.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-5NsVSK6gCyyu1YGAgMELcFzcUezJVhB1jl-5XC_qKH9Q4zKsOjw6XM4PYyOatEKW6VQXCqe0Nzj64GovC8UXsr3nUTvO2ngXFLiJM946txmAzd3VZlEWHUKNcaMaRU8Ti5Jj0RcA-gg/s1600/macarons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-5NsVSK6gCyyu1YGAgMELcFzcUezJVhB1jl-5XC_qKH9Q4zKsOjw6XM4PYyOatEKW6VQXCqe0Nzj64GovC8UXsr3nUTvO2ngXFLiJM946txmAzd3VZlEWHUKNcaMaRU8Ti5Jj0RcA-gg/s1600/macarons.jpg" height="320" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet Maresa's Macarons</td></tr>
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I was so excited after my purchase that I think I just wandered around for a few booths. I let Mike check out some healthy items (we bought those too - I had to balance out my chocolate) and I found some really nice coconut snacks. Two different kinds - jerky and crunchy.<br />
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After all of our snacking, we had some juice tasting to do. Balance out the sweet with a little healthy cleansing properties. Isn't that how it's supposed to work? <br />
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Snacks, main course, juices, teas, desserts - this pop-up really does have everything. Even......mosquito repellent! Yes, I was even excited for this because with repellent it means hiking and spring. All natural repellent that can even be applied to your pets. Sold. But as I was finished up my sale, something else caught my eye...<br />
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Wait, are those...are those really....MACARONS! I ran. I might have knocked a few people over. It didn't matter. The important thing was that there were vegan macarons and I was going to get them. In every flavor. Just for me. And not share.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg152ntfs5FLFOwAKfuGlCWMJmG02YMjr4XLwi_ly30XJVUySc72iVq_5cpNbURMTH7bo-X4zOXQ2Mmvo2siEuXfexXrNvp0KYz_7E-ftRYG69tG2WP5TkpP_v_7zQ7J0BYPB7rMa-WuqrB/s1600/snowman+deadman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg152ntfs5FLFOwAKfuGlCWMJmG02YMjr4XLwi_ly30XJVUySc72iVq_5cpNbURMTH7bo-X4zOXQ2Mmvo2siEuXfexXrNvp0KYz_7E-ftRYG69tG2WP5TkpP_v_7zQ7J0BYPB7rMa-WuqrB/s1600/snowman+deadman.jpg" height="320" width="198" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What I'd look like if I ate all my goodies</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Yes, I said it. Not share. I bought two in each flavor and specifically told Mike I wasn't splitting. Rose, Chocolate, Almond, Pistachio, Lemon - mine. I was beaming. Like a ray of sunshine, the macarons had lit me from within. I'll be here every month for more.<br />
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I started the day with good intentions. Really, I did. The important thing is that I made sure that I mixed it up. I had a few treats mixed in with my healthy snacks.<br />
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Besides, I didn't eat ALL of my goodies in one day. Knowing that I can get my monthly fix makes it all worthwhile. Moderation is the key - and when it comes down to it I really will share everything - except my macarons.<br />
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If you'd like to attend The Seed or to get information on any of the goodies I've talked about you can visit the following sites:<br />
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theseedexperience.com<br />
cheezehound.com<br />
www.yeahdawg.com<br />
gonepie.com<br />
palmfrites.com<br />
ticktocknaturals.com<br />
www.lagustasluscious.com/shop/sweet-maresas<br />
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<br />Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-13487411539733970982015-02-06T16:35:00.001-08:002015-02-06T16:35:15.776-08:00*The Lost Post* Summer of Bob<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWet6UqrHZwgPNROLlaPks7psQlpauvxEYcOxbKF0Hqps3WhyphenhyphenYvDKuz5bBVLgmkogzKW7BmPLVZSa85t9_p1mWtusPunNMxx__ud_mWFKoozoSZv6VLp9q4YJa46Xe6gy5W-MPv4YNSiLL/s1600/kayaking+me+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWet6UqrHZwgPNROLlaPks7psQlpauvxEYcOxbKF0Hqps3WhyphenhyphenYvDKuz5bBVLgmkogzKW7BmPLVZSa85t9_p1mWtusPunNMxx__ud_mWFKoozoSZv6VLp9q4YJa46Xe6gy5W-MPv4YNSiLL/s200/kayaking+me+2.jpg" height="135" width="200" /></a>I love adventure. I think it's pretty obvious. If I'm sitting still for too long I get bored. I need constant action.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3NvyDwLWIKJQXgktZNfbftbBigkHfYqRK_H5OKLKOT51ONUe4gkEB_xvpCL1x83fKkN_gVazsQEXeJ6s7r6X0qGd7ww2hsp6eL9JNMYmcb75ha3-7VoZzow10rQaktaZBzZu4FXCgF8C/s1600/kayaking+moo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI3NvyDwLWIKJQXgktZNfbftbBigkHfYqRK_H5OKLKOT51ONUe4gkEB_xvpCL1x83fKkN_gVazsQEXeJ6s7r6X0qGd7ww2hsp6eL9JNMYmcb75ha3-7VoZzow10rQaktaZBzZu4FXCgF8C/s200/kayaking+moo.jpg" height="135" width="200" /></a><br />
Some may view this as a bad thing. For those around me, it's always a positive. They have a built-it entertainment coordinator.<br />
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When I lived in San Diego I was always on the look-out for things to do. Different, new, out-of-the-ordinary. You name it, I was up for it. Not everyone was always game for my selections but I'm okay with being a solo flyer.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOMnwi2iQvY5-SSP3rsjF3QI7pORkm_TmBuwHBdsz7gwHMPZdkCOSEIvlEBr-qFkxDGv3PYS_ldtwdxscxSnHUOISeI7Ifgbaj7KbM6fdqgpJvp4kLmPcb1RTNv_1xr4EYfBtLr-4m2UM/s1600/Rafting+all+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOMnwi2iQvY5-SSP3rsjF3QI7pORkm_TmBuwHBdsz7gwHMPZdkCOSEIvlEBr-qFkxDGv3PYS_ldtwdxscxSnHUOISeI7Ifgbaj7KbM6fdqgpJvp4kLmPcb1RTNv_1xr4EYfBtLr-4m2UM/s200/Rafting+all+3.jpg" height="146" width="200" /></a>The important thing is that I was always keeping my eye open for things to do. I knew I had to maintain my duties once we moved. People were depending on me.<br />
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Thanks to websites like LivingSocial and Groupon, my search was made easier. Activities were delivered straight to me. All I had to do was decide which ones were adventure worthy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuJf8mC13gV6S48d2aCKKtBdIRAW9InlX1cCGFemV2l1RLAM8WTLhWWiWHUzmzSFh66glB1LYSyZe79wofpm2PpYOeUWP1iKY31Xv0sIWO8z1jhBiReBDUMra94WDC52goUGl3N4qHDUgD/s1600/on+the+water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuJf8mC13gV6S48d2aCKKtBdIRAW9InlX1cCGFemV2l1RLAM8WTLhWWiWHUzmzSFh66glB1LYSyZe79wofpm2PpYOeUWP1iKY31Xv0sIWO8z1jhBiReBDUMra94WDC52goUGl3N4qHDUgD/s200/on+the+water.jpg" height="137" width="200" /></a></div>
I know, tough job but I was determined. The adventures were on. They kept flooding in. I didn't know where to begin. Or where to stop. So I didn't.<br />
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I thought I'd take it easy on our first trip. Kayaking. Two-hours of gliding through Bullhead Bay in calm South Hampton. I had two adventurers with me - Mike and my dad, a.k.a. Bob. We were ready for some serenity.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK9QtSPPeLNBdkj-wfPliyqYSETN5seKdI2a7a-g0271iSlnJjp0aS2j3UcqXIp8lNKmSzgJzhj1zcKOJaldWRulenxVv3bELtra_39sOYA9knoJ6McL9rSkVQez-ewSrCsY5GBQqp-m6x/s1600/hanging+out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK9QtSPPeLNBdkj-wfPliyqYSETN5seKdI2a7a-g0271iSlnJjp0aS2j3UcqXIp8lNKmSzgJzhj1zcKOJaldWRulenxVv3bELtra_39sOYA9knoJ6McL9rSkVQez-ewSrCsY5GBQqp-m6x/s200/hanging+out.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><br />
Notice I said <i>we</i> were ready for serenity but I don't think serenity was ready for <i>us</i>. Or at least it wasn't ready for Bob. As soon as we hit the shore and sat in the kayaks...SPLASH! Bob was in. Yes, we laughed. It was blamed on his height. I'll go with that.<br />
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And then it happened again. Two hours into our adventure. We pulled ashore for a little rest and upon shove off...SPLASH! There Bob was again, in the drink. I think this was the highlight of our trip. Not Bob's.<br />
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We thought we'd try something a little more fast paced after this. It was time for a different kind of adventure. Since we knew Bob had a penchant for getting wet, we knew he'd be on board for whitewater rafting. Up to the Lehigh River in Pennsylvania we went.<br />
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Since he had tamed the rapids before, he was dubbed the pro and sat at the back of the raft. He was in charge of steering. I think he was paying more attention to staying on the raft this time. There were 5 people to a raft, each of us had an oar and a job to do.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQzmMA8d7dliXKkGrcjvWQWA6PKksVNTFqJvvcffCQ4E13-n2DTwINMddPXtIpcZfRlnGVovqhP4G83u9rDpx2YM1bwSrE-Vt6FcWQt4Z3eKfnPE-onedk7fcY5-BrodowzIbCu14VmQG/s1600/me+&+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQzmMA8d7dliXKkGrcjvWQWA6PKksVNTFqJvvcffCQ4E13-n2DTwINMddPXtIpcZfRlnGVovqhP4G83u9rDpx2YM1bwSrE-Vt6FcWQt4Z3eKfnPE-onedk7fcY5-BrodowzIbCu14VmQG/s200/me+&+bike.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
The most important job - staying dry and not falling in. Pretty hard when you have 10 other rafts chasing you down with super soakers. Our lunch break was on top of a massive rock formation overlooking the rapids.<br />
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After a morning filled with rapids conquering, it was a beautiful spot to sit, relax and regroup for the next portion of the water trail. This was an amazing adventure - more my speed than kayaking. I know Mike and Bob agreed and we couldn't wait to come back for more.<br />
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We had already done sea so next up was land. Bob took a pass on this one so it was just me and Mike. Back up to Lehigh, PA for a 25-mile bike ride with the best part at the end - wine. That was all the incentive I needed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjasggh838vyQTCuphxm9ZT6r68hiRMq8CAEy_x9EgACfuXlqlQgqOLrSz0y45olp2XN33XzGPQoMeELDyjU_IK9i1MiAxp0Hks1j8DoHfEkQqEvjYxh5FhnOO6HDuzGgAEAQuuzsADCJeQ/s1600/mike+&+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjasggh838vyQTCuphxm9ZT6r68hiRMq8CAEy_x9EgACfuXlqlQgqOLrSz0y45olp2XN33XzGPQoMeELDyjU_IK9i1MiAxp0Hks1j8DoHfEkQqEvjYxh5FhnOO6HDuzGgAEAQuuzsADCJeQ/s200/mike+&+bike.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
We got fitted for our bikes, started with a group and a guide and hit the trail. All along the way were beautiful, scenic view points. Trees, waterfalls, cliffs, train tracks - they were all there.<br />
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I love to take pictures but I also love to be first. I knew it wasn't a race but when I looked behind me and saw all those people....<br />
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We had a plan. We weren't <i>technically</i> racing. We were just biking a lot faster than everyone else. A lot. So we were able to take all of the pictures we wanted and get to the finish line first. Well, there wasn't really a finish line but we got to the end first.<br />
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More importantly, we got to the wine first. The wine! When we got there and saw our wine, and no one around, we realized we hit the jackpot. Now I bet Bob wished he were here.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8azrCCLAaYROo3EdYPVa5pMn2jMuWKT6SIxy4KbmCNAx_I0CIg-jQYnjp4rXz1-0M-6H6ADcTGYaUErM53ZBiqmIGX8k-_78Ug_jmVHs_5LTtqfiV4W_lC_2yxjBAQ8R872Zch4JfsEHp/s1600/us+&+waterfall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8azrCCLAaYROo3EdYPVa5pMn2jMuWKT6SIxy4KbmCNAx_I0CIg-jQYnjp4rXz1-0M-6H6ADcTGYaUErM53ZBiqmIGX8k-_78Ug_jmVHs_5LTtqfiV4W_lC_2yxjBAQ8R872Zch4JfsEHp/s200/us+&+waterfall.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><br />
Since we were so early, we had plenty of time to walk around the town before our bus took us home. Old historical homes, nice shops and restaurants - we were glad that we had the chance to explore as much as we did.<br />
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The bonus - before it was time to leave - extra wine!<br />
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Our Summer of Adventure was a great one. Each one had positives, some more than others, but they all gave us a lifetime of memories. Now it's almost time for fall.<br />
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I have to search for some crazy new adventures. Stay tuned....Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-61995317937180396272015-01-20T18:57:00.000-08:002016-01-20T12:41:53.515-08:00Adventures Gone By<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBi5P_Y0V9a-HyWEfVqNJzJ98inNeUdIWRxv4M6Vy-6-fTY3MZiiE0LNFZHp0-btK8_84KHJEqL9WEZwM5aXWLTHqNh6wnshm2WIgCIpAsJV5FawVe7STpElBov5y0DoOTpG1Ep59Vxej/s1600/whitewater.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBi5P_Y0V9a-HyWEfVqNJzJ98inNeUdIWRxv4M6Vy-6-fTY3MZiiE0LNFZHp0-btK8_84KHJEqL9WEZwM5aXWLTHqNh6wnshm2WIgCIpAsJV5FawVe7STpElBov5y0DoOTpG1Ep59Vxej/s1600/whitewater.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I wasn't going to address the gap in-between posts but it's like not addressing the elephant in the room. It's there, hanging out, screaming for attention. Here it is. Almost 3 years. I have a lot of excuses. They sound pretty plausible, but really, are they? Probably not. So I'll leave them out. But I'm back.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8pAzTnVNA4tmTc9_jKGbvSeLRF6JwrZ9FQx72Tm-UiCgkXxDQ8ctaVNggsNpsw-iNtg9UImDj0_DCDBBuMnssyBZk6oXc9531Tpe4hJMTefneUeActcWtKjKtLjN2xjd3JF7A9eqJxTS/s1600/kayak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8pAzTnVNA4tmTc9_jKGbvSeLRF6JwrZ9FQx72Tm-UiCgkXxDQ8ctaVNggsNpsw-iNtg9UImDj0_DCDBBuMnssyBZk6oXc9531Tpe4hJMTefneUeActcWtKjKtLjN2xjd3JF7A9eqJxTS/s1600/kayak.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer 2012</td></tr>
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A lot has happened in 3 years. I had every intention of writing about it. There were so many adventures. Whitewater rafting, kayaking, 25-mile bike rides, the Nutcracker Ballet, Cirque du Soleil, group painting events and the biggest one of all - my return to Paris, not just once but twice - yes, twice! - for Christmas in 2012 and again in April of 2014. Most of it all has been great. Most of it. </div>
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Through it all, like so many of my events, my father, Bob, was right there with us for most of it. Whitewater rafting? He was steering. Kayaking? In the Kayak. And in the water. Twice. Tipped that kayak right over. The ballet? Cirque du Soleil? Paris? Yes, yes and Yes. Just the first time though. I was most surprised about Paris but yes, he didn't want to miss out. Who could blame him? It's Paris!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaQqvje-8HOHGRXCmoCOEgMr3HwaFtnIiRpGa24RzjAgPA45OXcR0f9-lDsmgV_aoMjI2osHyQ-2aa6l2l3KSWc5X_jGR1AfRJBWc8hFG3SggWKVko7KraSWt136UOkwxRwOHcywYlFVH/s1600/eiffel+&+us.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaQqvje-8HOHGRXCmoCOEgMr3HwaFtnIiRpGa24RzjAgPA45OXcR0f9-lDsmgV_aoMjI2osHyQ-2aa6l2l3KSWc5X_jGR1AfRJBWc8hFG3SggWKVko7KraSWt136UOkwxRwOHcywYlFVH/s1600/eiffel+&+us.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paris December 2012</td></tr>
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Bob always loved hanging out with us - Mike and my friends, or as we call them, the girls. He had names for many of them and would always ask if they were coming over or if I was going to see them. There was "The Bod", "Funk", "The Doofus Award Winner" (you girls know who you are). When we had parties he loved to be there. He was just like one of the gang.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM0VVVZXwkrm62Fd91y1pLCSArQg2vBpiJ8UF30rY7qJRWKfuCjgTNtJhiKaItGeB6F5CAmznxU4O29MiQSJa72IyVvSFB3nJp7AvsAmUZZSE73zX-EdyKjonm4L7Xp3C3ci73DLwMAdKz/s1600/shakespeare.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM0VVVZXwkrm62Fd91y1pLCSArQg2vBpiJ8UF30rY7qJRWKfuCjgTNtJhiKaItGeB6F5CAmznxU4O29MiQSJa72IyVvSFB3nJp7AvsAmUZZSE73zX-EdyKjonm4L7Xp3C3ci73DLwMAdKz/s1600/shakespeare.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">April 2014</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioS6p2MlLsFs9-alF4uhQYiFBAtktp4jmmZWWcMXOf6hQQApa1y-rQHuc4rcUSNrKPQyhVmrBH-u4qhai2wG4ZoyFe8JCM9WQlL9DLpfZMmDKsZsP39D1GWIaRCv_dtSx5sG_vz0egSlWf/s1600/paintnite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div>
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We had plans. Breweries to try, wineries to see. Scotland. We just ran out of time. </div>
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Bob was diagnosed with Myelodysplastic Syndrome (MDS) in August of 2013, a type of cancer where the bone marrow doesn't make enough healthy blood cells. We signed up with the Icla da Silva Foundation in March in the hopes of having a bone marrow drive for him. Sadly, it was too late. He passed away on March 15, 2014. </div>
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We continue our mission of raising money in his name and our team, Bob's Mustaches, partner with the Icla da Silva Foundation, in the hopes of raising awareness and encouraging people to sign up to become donors so that one day, others in need of bone marrow will hopefully find their match. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 2014</td></tr>
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*<i>While writing this, I stumbled upon an unpublished blog about the adventures we had taken with Bob. Coming soon....the forgotten Summer of 2012.*</i><br />
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For information on how to donate, how to become a donor, or on the foundation, please visit the websites below:<br />
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www.crowdrise.com/melissabauernfeind<br />
Bone Marrow Donor: www.icla.org</div>
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Bone Marrow Donor: www.bethematch.org</div>
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Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-8228150977395510902012-05-07T10:32:00.002-07:002012-05-09T07:31:18.607-07:00Oh What a Mayo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm not a big celebrator of Cinco De Mayo. I also don't celebrate St. Patrick's Day. Well, generally I don't. The "drinking holidays" are typically not my thing but something funny happened this year.<br />
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Funny ha ha? Oh no no. Funny ironic. Yes, I say ironic because that something was called Mom and Dad. Oh the irony. <br />
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It all started with the holiday of green. I hadn't planned on going out. I was still in my pajamas relaxing when my father asked if I wanted to head out with him and my crew.<br />
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I was taken aback. I didn't really want to go out but dad looked so....mischievous. That was all I needed. I'm all for a good night of mischief. I was in. I called the girls and we were set. Until dad bailed on me.<br />
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Yes, you read correctly. He bailed. Got me ready for the night and then he bailed on me. I was stuck. Plans were made. We proceeded - without dad. Beware when making plans with dad. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2V7GXVKaZqsKSLboZqWAtch4wSM109a2QWxYpSDliHtb8nN03HzZ1K8Jb5o16XbzL3ACimNz6T_UGW8tC9ioMJcTan6qBarNNQf5dDwgmtb06h5_tes89jTWcdoJshI1ZWnLnNkvK2BER/s1600/Tequila+menu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2V7GXVKaZqsKSLboZqWAtch4wSM109a2QWxYpSDliHtb8nN03HzZ1K8Jb5o16XbzL3ACimNz6T_UGW8tC9ioMJcTan6qBarNNQf5dDwgmtb06h5_tes89jTWcdoJshI1ZWnLnNkvK2BER/s320/Tequila+menu.jpg" width="264" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So many choices...</td></tr>
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The months rolled along and May was here. This time it was mom's turn. She approached with her Cinco De Mayo plans. Tequila tasting, music, a new restaurant.<br />
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I was intrigued. I'm not big on Tequila but I'm always up for a new adventure. I was in. Mojave here we come. No, not the desert, the restaurant in Astoria, Queens.<br />
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We walked through the doors and the adventure began. The band was already playing as we arrived so we took our seats, sat back and grabbed the menu.<br />
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It was a latin evening and spicy was the tone of the night. Attitude and drink. My eye immediately flew to "jalapeno" and I was set.<br />
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Jalapeno infused tequila with a splash of lime was my drink of choice. Keep in mind I've stated that I'm not big on tequila. This drink was so good that I wanted more. I now know why Patti Stanger of the Millionaire Matchmaker fame has instated the two-drink maximum.<br />
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The food was good, dessert was great and of course those drinks were dangerously good. I was starting to think this celebrating mini holiday thing was a great idea after all. <br />
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Bonus - we couldn't leave without getting a dose of free - T-shirts, bottle openers, key chains and the most important of all....tasters of tequila.<br />
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After all, a night celebrating the remembrance of the 1862 Battle of Puebla would not be complete without some tasters of tequila.<br />
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After spending a good portion of the evening at Mojave it was time to hit the town. I am not familiar with Astoria. This is where my dad grew up. He had plans. <br />
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We were back in his hood. He wanted to show us around his old stomping grounds. We're always up for adventure. And if we see some interesting finds along the way that's an added bonus. As long as the driver is always willing to stop the car, we're good to go. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mischief Patrol</td></tr>
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First stop - the old apartment. We were like stealth bombers on a mission. Dad drove the car up the street and parked. We all ran up for our first picture. And then the door creaked open. Hhmmm.<br />
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We didn't see a no trespassing sign. It must have meant we were welcome. After all, dad <i>used</i> to live here. It's almost like he's a resident. No harm in a photo. We walked in.<br />
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Ah, the old apartment, straight ahead. I was tempted to knock and ask for a tour but I thought it was best to just get our "outside the apartment door" photo and call it a night.<br />
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Not quite. We weren't finished with our tour. Back into the car and around the streets we went. And down an alley. Mom was confused. An alley? Dad was amused. So were we.<br />
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He regaled us with childhood stories as we cruised down the alleys. Until we saw it. It was what made us stop the car. Not just a rolling stop. We needed the full stop here. Yes, there, off to the side, was the cafe. <br />
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When you've had a rough day, when you need to relax from the stress of world, unwind in the privacy of your back-alley cafe. Have a glass of wine. Have a latte. Get away from it all.<br />
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I think I would have added a little palm tree. Create some green effect. A little serene privacy. Put some crawling ivy on that wall. Surrounded my cafe with nature.<br />
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Just remember, when you think you can't escape from it all, there's always a hidden place somewhere to lose yourself. Here it happens to be in an alley in the middle of it Astoria. This certainly was a Cinco De Mayo to remember.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little nightcap on the "patio"</td></tr>
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Please visit my other websites at:<br />
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<a href="http://redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/">http://redismynaturalcolor.com/</a><br />
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http://thedeadmanpose.tumblr.com/<br />
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<br />Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-7692331968664524932012-03-20T09:48:00.000-07:002012-03-20T16:33:37.664-07:00It All Started With A Cupcake<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I love a good cake. It's all about the desserts for me. I'm not ashamed to admit it. People talk about going lo-cal, watching the fat, watching the calories.</div>
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Sure, whatever. You do that. I'll take the cake. I'm not talking about eating the whole thing here. I can have a few bites and be good. Which is why I'm even a bigger fan of the cake of cup. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My twist on the cupcake - Chocolate with Almost Frosting</td></tr>
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Cupcakes. I'm obsessed. Give me a mini little cake and I'm a goner every time. If I walk down the street and see a shop with those tiny little bites of heaven gracing the store window I have to stop. I <i>need</i> to stop. </div>
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Which is why when I heard about a new show on the Food Network called "Cupcake Wars" I was all in. Yeah, I said it. All In.</div>
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I'm not ashamed to admit it. I was hooked. I couldn't miss an episode. Some people have mocked it. They feel it's a waste of an hour. They don't understand the beauty of the cupcake.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blueberry Pancakes</td></tr>
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Each Sunday I found myself waiting to see which city the next batch of bakers (haha, see what I just did there?) would be from.</div>
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It was that fateful day when I saw it. The most delicious looking cupcake I had ever seen. And it was Vegan. I was intrigued. I had been on a dairy-free kick for a few weeks. </div>
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The judges couldn't stop raving about it. The chef's name was Chloe Coscarelli and she won the show. I was hooked. I needed to learn more.<br />
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I signed up for her newsletter and began getting her recipes. I tried out her cupcakes. They were the best I had ever eaten. I kept baking. My friends raved. They were the best <i>they</i> had ever eaten.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxOd6ywdRA0NdSjCFN_NnwU8RKn7GLKMHlLtD-X1xnnkrFWneBWVhKqWYq_G3WGomNCr1hDkDJFT3y4nyH3dh07Y57qYI2_BsybUB5PnbS205vKBJfcH_o3emnjX-bLRn5G5ip9re_k7d/s1600/DSCN6184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxOd6ywdRA0NdSjCFN_NnwU8RKn7GLKMHlLtD-X1xnnkrFWneBWVhKqWYq_G3WGomNCr1hDkDJFT3y4nyH3dh07Y57qYI2_BsybUB5PnbS205vKBJfcH_o3emnjX-bLRn5G5ip9re_k7d/s320/DSCN6184.JPG" width="320" /></a>I was hooked. I tweaked the recipe and changed the frosting to make them my own. I couldn't stop. I could get into this vegan thing. Could I just eat cupcakes forever?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpNP5YHTDDkDiSZmX0H0XqSfFK-ww8CgWWxL-Ekag8Aw3St1gTyP10xiGAKGMc_igW16UAXAzO_bBY8v9VWQIL8mZRw4U1lYXPIvUnVrbnDI3zrOh1p8Vkq_c6mRWOZjUNESF6ga_r4nn/s1600/DSCN6205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpNP5YHTDDkDiSZmX0H0XqSfFK-ww8CgWWxL-Ekag8Aw3St1gTyP10xiGAKGMc_igW16UAXAzO_bBY8v9VWQIL8mZRw4U1lYXPIvUnVrbnDI3zrOh1p8Vkq_c6mRWOZjUNESF6ga_r4nn/s320/DSCN6205.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cinnamon-Espresso Chocolate-Chip Cookies</td></tr>
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I knew it was time to try some food. I'm not big on the cooking but I thought I'd give it a whirl. Chef Chloe had so many delicious Internet recipes. I tried a few and loved them.<br />
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*Sigh* They weren't enough for me to cook with everyday so I got lazy and just stuck with my dairy-free, vegan-cupcake infused diet.<br />
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Hey, a girl's gotta start somewhere. Might as well make sure the cupcake is first and foremost.<br />
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For the past year I had been happily creating my cupcakes. Playing with different frostings and doing my thing. My, I can-eat-whatever-I-want-as-long-as-it's-good-for-me thing.I don't like to follow diets.<br />
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I don't like to be told what or what not to eat. I like to follow my own rules. So this time when I saw that Chef Chloe was coming out with a vegan cookbook I thought it was time to give it another try. Except instead of being vegan, I was going to be vegan*.<br />
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That's right, vegan*. Here is my disclaimer. I am a chocoholic and I love sushi. Those are two things that I don't think I can willingly give up. Besides, chocolate and sushi are good for me. True story. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK4ZFNbM14wAB6yFOAfdyAkClAHfJJ4nZMT7gYpUuLbxBVvgcec1vL3RUkD8ic89Bd1_4FAjAWW6EEtyvaoTA-fKW4iVot9ukDvYWyhYLGQ4xmDTDrqU-p7yzUNdb-JCFGkgXR6R3n_6wM/s1600/burger1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK4ZFNbM14wAB6yFOAfdyAkClAHfJJ4nZMT7gYpUuLbxBVvgcec1vL3RUkD8ic89Bd1_4FAjAWW6EEtyvaoTA-fKW4iVot9ukDvYWyhYLGQ4xmDTDrqU-p7yzUNdb-JCFGkgXR6R3n_6wM/s1600/burger1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Falafel Burger</td></tr>
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I know that there are some of you out there that have become vegans because of your love of animals. This is great. I love animals too. I adore them. But I have to admit these are not my reasons for going vegan.<br />
<br />
I an becoming vegan* because I love the food and love the healthier lifestyle. I can't claim to do it because of animals.<br />
<br />
I'd be a hypocrite if I said that. If I ate my vegan meal and then opened my leather Louis Vuitton purse to get out my leather Coach wallet to pay for my meal. Baby steps.<br />
<br />
So it was with extreme excitement that I received my new cookbook in the mail. It was the first time I actually read a cookbook from cover to cover.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVrWwXJFCPk5SpGMw4OPfKWC8W5MiEDAMYcLqjh0TrLLwOzgkUdsRozLzli8fraSAv8mdX7Kb_bMndE5hV3jUeclEfIGTqiFfwqCSWIK1lmH36a2CAmenxwwsNJsLIrpu4coYzpAU0ekBE/s1600/DSCN6218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVrWwXJFCPk5SpGMw4OPfKWC8W5MiEDAMYcLqjh0TrLLwOzgkUdsRozLzli8fraSAv8mdX7Kb_bMndE5hV3jUeclEfIGTqiFfwqCSWIK1lmH36a2CAmenxwwsNJsLIrpu4coYzpAU0ekBE/s200/DSCN6218.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mac & Cheese</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I bookmarked all of the recipes that I wanted to try immediately and the next day I went to Whole Foods and bought all of the ingredients that I'd need.<br />
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I didn't recognize myself. It was an odd transformation. For the next two days I was a cooking fool. My parents were the beneficiaries of my new found skills. Cookies, burgers, pasta. I was unstoppable.<br />
<br />
Well, until I ran out of ingredients. Then I was put on hold for few days. But that won't stop me. I'm into this cooking thing now. I'm even on a Brussels Sprouts kick. Didn't see that one. Ever.<br />
<br />
I never thought we'd get much use out of our food processor when we registered for it years ago. If I'd have seen this coming I would have gone for the 12-quart. Who would have known.<br />
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<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/AVvXsEiQ3UIQdtJbZTd85gQ6P6AKWkQ58jxcPBprDE60XnfQPax2p9Vk18pCEYErHg0upzNyb-kiBXta3iqDT79K0yXt2GPFBkdpDWCuql5NQ_L1VCVun31wAUq2huQLiww9imofg1uCbcKI1gLD/s1600/cupcakes2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3UIQdtJbZTd85gQ6P6AKWkQ58jxcPBprDE60XnfQPax2p9Vk18pCEYErHg0upzNyb-kiBXta3iqDT79K0yXt2GPFBkdpDWCuql5NQ_L1VCVun31wAUq2huQLiww9imofg1uCbcKI1gLD/s400/cupcakes2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Cupcake twist - Chocolate with Peanut butter & Choclate Frosting<br />
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</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If you would like to find out more about Chef Chloe's cookbook, please visit her website at:<br />
<br />
http://chefchloe.com <br />
<br />
Please visit my other website at:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/">http://redismynaturalcolor.com/</a><br />
<br />
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<br />Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-21255611245684732562012-03-05T09:39:00.000-08:002012-03-05T18:04:08.162-08:00The Sport of the Shoe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnH_WdbcXGehC7weWLromHYGkDKSSmM2gZCBffMOyG53Iylu2AuRAHmVEELgj8RcjQlFYuSt6QnKKa-o5BJIQ5a36sls_J1tUKnxtjGJDeqT7CRxcZ7IZa0Lnh6qNETyS6AN5xM4QlX86S/s1600/DSCN6151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisTT7o9Fq5ozERXfz3FZDLoIgso4P8KT8ugTnNTS9c-DERUEudmK-V8l0xJKe55pXomtFL0EwvoexRkHwu-BsEhyznR7oPW_1NMrcTaepdS5xz2s9_7iHmQ0bKIOUwumnqx0ULqfF9thJr/s1600/DSCN6139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisTT7o9Fq5ozERXfz3FZDLoIgso4P8KT8ugTnNTS9c-DERUEudmK-V8l0xJKe55pXomtFL0EwvoexRkHwu-BsEhyznR7oPW_1NMrcTaepdS5xz2s9_7iHmQ0bKIOUwumnqx0ULqfF9thJr/s320/DSCN6139.JPG" width="320" /></a>I love shoes. It's not a secret. I'm not afraid to declare my love. I'll shout it from the rooftops.<br />
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Some people might refer to my love as an unhealthy addiction. This is just negativity.<br />
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I don't like to use such mean terminology for such a beautiful, um, sport. Yes, that's right, I said sport.<br />
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Sport you ask? How can a shoe collection be a sport? Well, maybe the actual collection can't be, but the shopping part? Sport. For sure, sport.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJx_DXEPP789h6lDaGDg338y_VqytQNGE_Mf11J6fBFBqIGN-IIuIHNx6n6Snw-hBXVBR4a8BfDU95Jz1b5aIfMbW69GJpdNcERoVh8BreDBEcrgwOBgeuHBDHyVE2nb9G1csarT7wZOX6/s1600/DSCN6150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJx_DXEPP789h6lDaGDg338y_VqytQNGE_Mf11J6fBFBqIGN-IIuIHNx6n6Snw-hBXVBR4a8BfDU95Jz1b5aIfMbW69GJpdNcERoVh8BreDBEcrgwOBgeuHBDHyVE2nb9G1csarT7wZOX6/s320/DSCN6150.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can't I just take them all?</td></tr>
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I know. I just participated in a sporting event at DSW's preview opening of their Flagship store in NYC. <br />
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My shoe team consisted of me and Liz. We arrived early thinking we'd have time to eat and prepare for the race. We were wrong.<br />
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Apparently we had to line up. A line? Damn. We had some stiff competition. We were starting to get nervous. <br />
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We had to focus. Wedges and heels. That's what we were here for. Wedges and heels. Find our size, grab the box and go.<br />
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The line began to move, they took our tickets and we were in. WE WERE IN. I was ready to hit the aisles. We hit the escalator and as we neared the top and rounded the corner it was like the sun was shining down on us. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnH_WdbcXGehC7weWLromHYGkDKSSmM2gZCBffMOyG53Iylu2AuRAHmVEELgj8RcjQlFYuSt6QnKKa-o5BJIQ5a36sls_J1tUKnxtjGJDeqT7CRxcZ7IZa0Lnh6qNETyS6AN5xM4QlX86S/s1600/DSCN6151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnH_WdbcXGehC7weWLromHYGkDKSSmM2gZCBffMOyG53Iylu2AuRAHmVEELgj8RcjQlFYuSt6QnKKa-o5BJIQ5a36sls_J1tUKnxtjGJDeqT7CRxcZ7IZa0Lnh6qNETyS6AN5xM4QlX86S/s320/DSCN6151.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Death by Shoe</td></tr>
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I started to run to the right when ooooh to my left cake pops and Perrier. Oh My God they have Cake Pops!<br />
<br />
A distraction. <i>They threw in a distraction.</i> Focus. I needed to focus. I was here on a mission. I forged ahead. Wait. I stepped back.<br />
<br />
I grabbed a pop and got back on track. I headed down the aisle and my eye settled on a shoe when there it was. The Champagne Tray. <br />
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It was like an obstacle course. Every time you tried to get to the shoe you had to overcome the rope bridge or the giant wall.<br />
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Aisle after aisle of shoe. We didn't know where to start. And those crowds. Each time we thought we had it conquered we were told there was another floor. And there went that Champagne Tray again. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKuGMgoXkNJCUIax7uqqIHnEPPu28zWEVA1sLKKLyyffsNuzgWHBrtzej2Jl1YtduoA_3MEHgO_98AHKd77NzWqsY9KIOxGPuV7irEosWCFVan-p2PPDfrRkZiX0HuWy3tyR6vfMFCEGwU/s1600/DSCN6145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKuGMgoXkNJCUIax7uqqIHnEPPu28zWEVA1sLKKLyyffsNuzgWHBrtzej2Jl1YtduoA_3MEHgO_98AHKd77NzWqsY9KIOxGPuV7irEosWCFVan-p2PPDfrRkZiX0HuWy3tyR6vfMFCEGwU/s320/DSCN6145.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hello? Want to come home? </td></tr>
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The D.J. was playing, people were laughing, we were dancing and grabbing shoes at the same time.<br />
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Yes, it is possible to dance and try on shoes at the same time. We <i>are</i> professionals in our sport.<br />
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Our pile was growing. We had some decisions to make. Go with the cork or go with the red patent leather? Take the wedge or peep toe?<br />
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Several times during the event we switched shoes. Each time we thought we had our final choice we'd spot a new looker from afar and sprint. We had to get our shoe before anyone else did.<br />
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Then it was time to relax. The main event was over. We had completed our activity and had won. Big time. I'm talking gold medal here. We could fully enjoy the festivities. Goody bags, t-shirts, quadruple points for luxe members. We had earned our rewards.<br />
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Now let's go find that Champagne Tray.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0utnEVIINYYnUp4f6N9xiB8MsqphSXJKbiwDdUCBxcbVZNyX6aNlosU6Wdk_nTR3BXndtfgedAP2jIjpllZi7yvLjW5nWn2gVn9V15tOmyfTwPA2Pyqh-1XV130aCeLHqak2Se1QKc1eB/s1600/DSCN6141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0utnEVIINYYnUp4f6N9xiB8MsqphSXJKbiwDdUCBxcbVZNyX6aNlosU6Wdk_nTR3BXndtfgedAP2jIjpllZi7yvLjW5nWn2gVn9V15tOmyfTwPA2Pyqh-1XV130aCeLHqak2Se1QKc1eB/s400/DSCN6141.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You will be mine.</td></tr>
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To find out more about the new flagship store visit:<br />
<br />
https://www.dsw.com<br />
<br />
Please visit my other website at:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/">http://redismynaturalcolor.com/</a><br />
<br />
<br />Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-24724930940910582642012-02-16T18:29:00.000-08:002012-02-16T18:29:46.309-08:00One of a Kind, Me.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1YipPieLGUg7dCC3t7OV3FOZVjm-chp-XCoaaqsut3_VQS7KcABk7Dt2QlxxEoosdzVDPggt5IwrmqJVGMh5n9XB7DkPk-0dtRweyxlInzNvg6y3KJQfFdklb_CWxODbffu-p3rYblpOt/s1600/DSCN5739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1YipPieLGUg7dCC3t7OV3FOZVjm-chp-XCoaaqsut3_VQS7KcABk7Dt2QlxxEoosdzVDPggt5IwrmqJVGMh5n9XB7DkPk-0dtRweyxlInzNvg6y3KJQfFdklb_CWxODbffu-p3rYblpOt/s320/DSCN5739.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look, a pointer. </td></tr>
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<br />
I had to make a trip back to the West Coast for some unfinished business. I know, poor me. It was a tough job but I knew I was up to the task.<br />
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I viewed this as my chance to do the things I kept saying I needed to do the last time I said I needed to do them and didn't. Did you follow that? Good. <br />
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First stop - Canine Companions. Sure, we'd been here before when we met Dean Koontz but we'd never taken a picture by that sign. You know, <i><b>that sign.</b> </i><br />
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The sign that lets everyone know that this is where Dean Koontz has been. I've been meaning to take a picture here for five years. Yes, <i>five years</i>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcvU_AwXTatcPBUnqrapQRt0xQ97vtxXP8e_haPkHINgOQlXw9aHF-zT5hY7tJ-2Rp32IshC8E1614bPNPzG8LKQ1AgB30buOiN2w9o-Tz96Z5h6UzY8GxzZDs_KuaaWcwW7qdcff0JjV/s1600/DSCN5741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcvU_AwXTatcPBUnqrapQRt0xQ97vtxXP8e_haPkHINgOQlXw9aHF-zT5hY7tJ-2Rp32IshC8E1614bPNPzG8LKQ1AgB30buOiN2w9o-Tz96Z5h6UzY8GxzZDs_KuaaWcwW7qdcff0JjV/s320/DSCN5741.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
It's amazing what you do when you know you won't be around anymore. Which is why we ran across the street to the cemetery.<br />
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Why you ask? Because we always said we were going to stop for a long time. How long? Well...<br />
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We've been seeing this graveyard for...that's right...five years. Rumors flew. Pet cemetery, Indian graveyard. Time to find out.<br />
<br />
Look at that - the burial place of Oceanside's founders. Mystery solved. It was a peaceful hill overlooking Mission San Luis Ray. Sure, not as exciting as a Pet Cemetery but...wait.<br />
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There was a headstone <i>outside</i> of the cemetery in the far corner. We had to investigate. Well, what do you know! A cat grave site. Okay, so there was a little truth to the rumors. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvuczT79qj7EfJGwi7YlChgG0ljNrLYBJD-s0ZTGYkd8puKyq7iSSEvVxgKVwBrzIjGlB4hW_YTJFBQTm37cw8-ZDBzsEdfUdGmSqqzWNwXJ2QjmoXIH2uFqanZYNoF3AwWTcE_itNNZVG/s1600/DSCN5874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvuczT79qj7EfJGwi7YlChgG0ljNrLYBJD-s0ZTGYkd8puKyq7iSSEvVxgKVwBrzIjGlB4hW_YTJFBQTm37cw8-ZDBzsEdfUdGmSqqzWNwXJ2QjmoXIH2uFqanZYNoF3AwWTcE_itNNZVG/s320/DSCN5874.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You find the best things on the street.</td></tr>
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Another thing I'd always wanted to to in San Diego was go horseback riding. I had been trying to find a place for years but to no avail. It was either for couples or lessons.<br />
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I didn't want lessons and well, Mike didn't share my enthusiasm for the horse. I wasn't faring too well. I gave up my search. But then, as if the one-last-mission fairies were shining down upon me, there it was.<br />
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Well, maybe not the fairies, more like Groupon and Living Social. I got my ride at Vineyard Trail Rides in Ramona. I opted for the 9 a.m. slot. Sure, it was early but besides the guide, who was also the owner, I was the only person on the trail. This is how it should always be.<br />
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Gallop, trot, cantor, whatever. I could do it all in peace. I didn't have to worry about anyone else enjoying their ride either. Just me. My horse was great too. I barely had to do anything and of course it was another beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky. Another good reason I took the early time slot. It was still cool but by the time I was done it was starting to heat up.<br />
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There was a bonus on the trail. It was actually a "ride and drink" offer. You take a two-hour trail ride and get a wine tasting.This may come as a shock but I actually forgot my wine.<br />
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*Gasp* I actually was in it for the ride. I know, I know, how could I. We rode for an hour, took a brake where I had my mini bottle, then continued for the next hour.<br />
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I didn't realize I left my bottle until I was driving away. And the tears came to my eyes.....<br />
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As you can see, I like to do my own thing. I love it when someone wants to come along and join me in my adventures. The more the merrier. If you don't want to, that's okay, I'm fine trying things solo. I don't want to want to miss out on something because I was alone or felt silly doing it. <br />
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I still haven't finished my list of needed sights to see. Yes, the list has gotten smaller but it does seem like the list is never ending. Which just means more traveling. I'm not complaining. <br />
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It's great to be unique, one of a kind, or as that great sign on the street says, the Black Sheep. Normal is so overrated. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black Sheep are the best. Dirt is harder to find on them.</td></tr>
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If you would like to learn more about the places mentioned in this blog you can visit their websites below:<br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><a href="http://www.vineyardtrailrides.com/" rel="nofollow nofollow" target="_blank">www.vineyardtrailrides.com</a></span><br />
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">http://www.cci.org</span><br />
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><br /></span><br />
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Please visit my other blog at:</div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<a href="http://redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/">http://redismynaturalcolor.com/</a></div>
<br />Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-23607303409907034832012-01-29T10:11:00.000-08:002012-01-29T10:52:44.533-08:00New York State of Mind<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf-1yiqi7wiDpMFFXhiS3yFj7pfgzBSxPhs3HFrZk_ralCOw1QaTb5Y9OYhF9iq9d6-AnDcadlQl2Bri53uzYEdffLqYOObe1Tj733aVaDdK9lQZrHSx68GFlNutgVVM5_7QBFoLUg-R3I/s1600/couch+in+driveway.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf-1yiqi7wiDpMFFXhiS3yFj7pfgzBSxPhs3HFrZk_ralCOw1QaTb5Y9OYhF9iq9d6-AnDcadlQl2Bri53uzYEdffLqYOObe1Tj733aVaDdK9lQZrHSx68GFlNutgVVM5_7QBFoLUg-R3I/s320/couch+in+driveway.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new living room in the driveway look</td></tr>
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Ah, New York. It seemed like we'd been planning this move for a long time. Probably because we had. Are we moving, are we not, should we move? We couldn't decide.<br />
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We kept putting it off but we finally made our decision and picked a date. Late December. It sounded like a great idea. Christmas in New York. Everyone loves the holidays in the city. I know I do.<br />
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What's not to love? The decorations, the city all aglow, the shopping, Broadway, stores open late. Needless to say, I was pretty excited. Until I remembered one little thing. The cold. Damn it. THE COLD. I had forgotten about that part. We'd just finished packing. Was is too late to turn back now? Just a joke. No really, I'm joking.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0KtGl2Mh-YpQv-gqLAU7re3KUg5YMEFpxvVTvIR-GIOBSwkCSurv8xrjpQpmzwS9LKTB9kWwyx3Wxn1fPgQ8flY0UFSY4ZdsBeQCUh6RwUnEWB0WwTF0Now85H4r5weue0932SutneSmn/s1600/rooftops.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0KtGl2Mh-YpQv-gqLAU7re3KUg5YMEFpxvVTvIR-GIOBSwkCSurv8xrjpQpmzwS9LKTB9kWwyx3Wxn1fPgQ8flY0UFSY4ZdsBeQCUh6RwUnEWB0WwTF0Now85H4r5weue0932SutneSmn/s320/rooftops.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amongst the Rooftops</td></tr>
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We arrived in NY and to our surprise it was warm. A reprieve. Temporary, yes but it didn't matter. Anything to help us adjust would work. We knew what was coming. January. AND February. I might not make it after all.<br />
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Christmas was only a few days away. We had to unpack and put our things in place. Not an easy task when you have another house full of furniture to deal with. We had an easy solution. Set up outside. Nothing says welcome home like a couch in the driveway. My mom was amused. Dad, well, not so much.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW627LA0fhCnDu2m3UH4T_X_sqQyfSzqGCVg0l3yeoiJuUvPxZj_9Ie-HRlkAJy1v1oS_vJMQF1ANBY4E-2qm-UJX3J0pCD_NVdCQBvuxftblbS7qwRU-nUeaNkac1dlUU4BLVQXLr1l09/s1600/Mike+&+How+to+Succeed.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW627LA0fhCnDu2m3UH4T_X_sqQyfSzqGCVg0l3yeoiJuUvPxZj_9Ie-HRlkAJy1v1oS_vJMQF1ANBY4E-2qm-UJX3J0pCD_NVdCQBvuxftblbS7qwRU-nUeaNkac1dlUU4BLVQXLr1l09/s320/Mike+&+How+to+Succeed.JPG" width="224" /></a>Work was almost done. Now it was time to play. Into Manhattan we go. We were on our way to see a show. I'm all about the shows. I've been going to Broadway since I was 3 years old. That's a long time. Tonight's selection - How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. <br />
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We arrived early. I know you're not supposed to take pictures in the theatre when the show starts but we were so early I thought hey, why not? Apparently they frown upon any pictures in the theatre at all. Let me stress that. AT ALL. I guess if I were famous they'd bend those rules a little. At this point, those rules were not bent.<br />
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The play was fantastic. My parents had seen it and loved it which is why we decided to see it. I highly recommend it. Although be careful when you get wine in those plastic sippy cups. They leak.<br />
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Afterwards we decided to walk around. The best part about the city is that it's open late. Yes, the whole city. Ok, maybe not the <i>whole</i> city but most of it. This is what I missed the most. <span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">When trying to get coffee late at night only to face a closed establishment, many a conversation has ended with, "you know, if we were in NY..."</span><br />
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On the plane ride over I had just read an article in my New York Magazine about an art installation called "Rooftops". I thought it was interesting. Just a bunch of rooftops placed on the ground. I was wondering if I'd be able to see it. For years I had been clipping places to see, things to do but since I was in San Diego it had never happened.<br />
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Well what to you know. Walking around the corner on the way back from our play - Rooftops! Fences prohibited us from climbing all over them but it was pretty cool to see them displayed in the middle of block. After all these years, I finally got to see something that I read about in my magazine. This move was starting to look better and better.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3CzyDJx9ZWb_F6Po_w9JdLt9WmaihiQ4NmKNOy-lbfKxiArC2dP7W2koDjTbDRPiOcVmz6tA-9qP0YEJVrORrkyQfCyF_lQn5LU4ezx4PaOqc_jGjVzLFxBAgkNi35quheBYhQxABgzke/s1600/Peep+mobile.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3CzyDJx9ZWb_F6Po_w9JdLt9WmaihiQ4NmKNOy-lbfKxiArC2dP7W2koDjTbDRPiOcVmz6tA-9qP0YEJVrORrkyQfCyF_lQn5LU4ezx4PaOqc_jGjVzLFxBAgkNi35quheBYhQxABgzke/s320/Peep+mobile.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stuff dreams are made of</td></tr>
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Oh my God. It's the Peep Mobile! The freakin' Peep Mobile! I was just walking down the street in excitement from my rooftop display when there it was. Just sitting in the parking lot down the street in all of its yellow glory. Who knew one even existed?<br />
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It was turning out to be a perfect night. We'd only been back in NY for a few days and it was already magical. What a night this had turned out to be and it wasn't even over yet.<br />
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It was getting close to midnight, that's right, <i>midnight</i>, and the stores were still open. I knew I had to made one last stop. Cupcakes. Every night needs to end with a cupcake. Magnolia Bakery had my name on it. We strolled in and picked out a few chocolate creations and then our night was complete. Wait, that time thing is too good for me not to say it again. The bakery was open <i>until midnight.</i><br />
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Yes, I know there are going to be good times and some not so good times. Like that January and February cold thing I mentioned earlier. Maybe I should have held off on the move until March when spring starts rolling in. But then I wouldn't have seen Rooftops or the Peep Mobile. Or Daniel Radcliffe in How to Succeed. And those are definitely some good times that I don't want to trade in. It's not too often you see a giant marshmallow bunny driving down the street.<br />
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For an alternate ending and for different pictures go to my other blog at:</div>
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<a href="http://redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/">http://redismynaturalcolor.com/</a></div>
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<br /></div>Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-86284803340303975372011-12-19T12:50:00.000-08:002011-12-19T12:55:55.351-08:00Out With a Bang<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAw0DQZ1hnE8VIwRzwlKG_6gxciON5nemNetXrL0azYPuxdfmJOREMT8ecwozPbZiONll-8VoqiiL-rbQhUbIQasEx-MkXZuy7eCqq31w60oFCEiKrNMMeeh6vpoPe0BCoj2ZoW9zWgOJ0/s1600/Me+in+the+car.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAw0DQZ1hnE8VIwRzwlKG_6gxciON5nemNetXrL0azYPuxdfmJOREMT8ecwozPbZiONll-8VoqiiL-rbQhUbIQasEx-MkXZuy7eCqq31w60oFCEiKrNMMeeh6vpoPe0BCoj2ZoW9zWgOJ0/s200/Me+in+the+car.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">I am moving back to New York City. There I've said it. I'm still not really sure how I feel about it. I haven't talked about it much. Partly because my California friends have banned me from speaking about it. </span> They know how they feel about it.<br />
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Yes, we all know how they feel about it. So I haven't said much other than I'm moving. I knew the date was approaching. They knew the date was approaching. We just didn't realize it was approaching <i>this</i> fast. I had too many things that I still wanted to do. Still needed to do. I wasn't ready to go yet. I'm still not sure that I am ready to go.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSuRA0NhikIa8HBWkabUHGbRBxtVT0tf30gNBms_PsAMpx0GObfhccJdgQ2j2UAk0IsTwbh-8x-viqFVQ6huiVeyHDdAyjjgssd38SG_vXxukhaK6o8YY_eJhZErJh2L3RRf1fNqy-b3fb/s1600/Samurais.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSuRA0NhikIa8HBWkabUHGbRBxtVT0tf30gNBms_PsAMpx0GObfhccJdgQ2j2UAk0IsTwbh-8x-viqFVQ6huiVeyHDdAyjjgssd38SG_vXxukhaK6o8YY_eJhZErJh2L3RRf1fNqy-b3fb/s200/Samurais.JPG" width="200" /></a> People keep asking me if I'm excited. I don't know what to tell them. I know, I know, it's New York. I love New York. Really, I do. It's where I'm from. It's the city, a great city. I don't need to be sold on that. I don't know what's holding me back. I realized before I started worrying about leaving I needed to focus on my final days.<br />
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It happens every time we go to an amusement park though. We live only an hour away from most parks. Two hours at the most. I have an amazing time. Dilemma you ask? No. But the thrills, joys and highs you get are fabulous. Especially when you know you live close by. That's right, close by. I won't live close by anymore.
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But I'm still here. I will enjoy every last second. I had to get in some last important items. I knew there were some places we'd wanted to go <i>forever</i>. Now was the chance. We had to do it. It was time to end our year with a bang. We had to make it the <i>best.</i> <i>weekend. ever. </i>No pressure. None at all. I knew we were up to the task. So we went to top. The peak. The mountain. The mountain of magic.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, we planned this. Shocking, I know.</td></tr>
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What could be more perfect? A park filled with roller coasters. Nothing but coasters. It's pure genius. I had only dreamed of a place like this when I was little. It's all about the speed and drops. I love to feel like I'm flying.<br />
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We were excited all morning. We got there for the opening of the park. Winter in the park is phenomenal. No lines. Well, almost no lines. We breezed through almost every ride. Coaster after coaster - flying, soaring, looping, dropping - my face hurt from smiling so much. I walked around like I was living the perfect life. We were having fun and we were carefree. Even if it was only for a day.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfBQL6Q4kDmeb6LuczL-RlNq4Cj6Pru7ntRUpx44ySWGs0Z_y5N6LTYjSgf2-zGh9o5_DnPMKVu_-FS9g3DVNQubsjhl_SXguHhZ19dEm-W7BJmjkrUlrQIcJ_vR7EUnnuUM1ac5dKb82/s1600/me+%2526+the+coaster.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfBQL6Q4kDmeb6LuczL-RlNq4Cj6Pru7ntRUpx44ySWGs0Z_y5N6LTYjSgf2-zGh9o5_DnPMKVu_-FS9g3DVNQubsjhl_SXguHhZ19dEm-W7BJmjkrUlrQIcJ_vR7EUnnuUM1ac5dKb82/s200/me+%2526+the+coaster.JPG" width="200" /></a>Thoughts of moving were pushed away. Even though I knew I would be getting on a plane soon, too soon, I didn't think about it. I'm only thinking of it now, as I write this. We walked around the park for hours. No, really. Eight plus to be exact. It just meant we could eat more. Perfect.<br />
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I have always loved the feeling of flying through the air. That first launch where you feel the wind whipping through your hair and you can smell nothing but the air around you is amazing. Each time we went on a new coaster I felt free. I'm not a screamer. I'm a smiler. I couldn't stop smiling on every ride.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwoeQPUipLVnkwA8jLnp13jyOKpkDgLvCXlLCNiGEonLAFR8J7LKzyWbspID5Jj_t-FhxTcdV2dyVDgay5vK3m-S06wuavSgEtKnisBoVQkX68gPZm1LMQ6ikhAJsn-VZdibX9eZ_sYM-/s1600/Us+with+Superman.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwoeQPUipLVnkwA8jLnp13jyOKpkDgLvCXlLCNiGEonLAFR8J7LKzyWbspID5Jj_t-FhxTcdV2dyVDgay5vK3m-S06wuavSgEtKnisBoVQkX68gPZm1LMQ6ikhAJsn-VZdibX9eZ_sYM-/s200/Us+with+Superman.JPG" width="190" /></a>If I could ride those coaster every weekend I would. Line free of course. My teeth hurt from the wind rushing at them but I couldn't close my mouth. All ride photos showed screamer after screamer. People scared or nervous or just yelling for the hell of it.<br />
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Not me. All of my photos had the look of pure joy and the smile. It was as if I was on a photo shoot and I was supposed to keep that smile going to whole time.<br />
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Which is ironic since growing up I was the frowner. Had my mom known then that all she had to do was introduce a little high thrills to me to get me to smile things might have been a little lighter.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBCibOc10quApGFBfKtpQDEn48RzkK-4lcsBT4SDOu_1DOUGbU2ZbDcPybJv-eJmLN1f9cmzeu3Tm7MfQN4R_vxcOwMBpQAMsGcpy1y2iPRuQWqqD7voeOFlN_ja8EePU6AyS5v0b8Xf6/s1600/carousel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBCibOc10quApGFBfKtpQDEn48RzkK-4lcsBT4SDOu_1DOUGbU2ZbDcPybJv-eJmLN1f9cmzeu3Tm7MfQN4R_vxcOwMBpQAMsGcpy1y2iPRuQWqqD7voeOFlN_ja8EePU6AyS5v0b8Xf6/s200/carousel.JPG" width="200" /></a>We thought it was all over and slowly headed for the exit. We didn't want this magical day to end. But then, as we neared the gates, we saw our final ride. It had lights. It had music. It had magic. It met all of our requirements. The carousel was perfect to end the night on.<br />
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Besides, it's the only time I'm going to get Mike on a horse so I couldn't pass up this opportunity. We chose our stallions and hopped on. The music began and we took our final ride.<br />
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For an alternate story and for different pictures go to my other blog at:<br />
<a href="http://redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/">http://redismynaturalcolor.com/</a><br />
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-36656037858620832642011-11-11T08:47:00.001-08:002011-11-11T11:14:47.898-08:00Zombie Capitol of The U.S.?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXE3dg1HMgvb_FNykAUuBFQFwGEBx1n5voi9uk2BfrR7GyQajgFO4TF-IZbR4MLIoQwN1W_LWDEEXvpjXz5H-ezTGAaw0M_8GfsiZ1SEtrZZGeC_Du4Gal4j0gdtm02JF1GRbiHXAP8R83/s1600/space+needle.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXE3dg1HMgvb_FNykAUuBFQFwGEBx1n5voi9uk2BfrR7GyQajgFO4TF-IZbR4MLIoQwN1W_LWDEEXvpjXz5H-ezTGAaw0M_8GfsiZ1SEtrZZGeC_Du4Gal4j0gdtm02JF1GRbiHXAP8R83/s320/space+needle.JPG" width="116" /></a></div>
When I received an email from JetBlue warning me that my TrueBlue points were set to expire I knew I couldn't let that happen. I'd been saving those bad boys forever. I had to book a flight. I didn't want to mess up. As part of our "Tour the West Coast Before We Leave" plan, we knew we had to pick a location we'd never been to. It was a toss up - Seattle, WA or Portland, OR. <br />
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It was a tough call. Rain or rain. Hhhmm. We went with rain and Seattle it was. Once we made our decision, I figured I would call a reservations agent before I booked the flight to get conformation on the dates to make sure all was right. She assured me that all was a go. Keep that in mind. I'll get back to this later.*<br />
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We were pretty excited. In case you haven't guessed it by now, I feel best when I'm traveling. Home is on the road. I even sleep better when I'm traveling. It's always been like that. In a hotel, in a car - I sleep through the night when I'm not in my "normal" bed. As soon as I get back to my regular place of residence, I never have a good night's sleep. I couldn't wait to be in a new city.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Street Art</td></tr>
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When we arrived we had everything all mapped out. We knew exactly what we wanted to do and we knew we would do it all. From the moment we arrived we were in heaven thanks to my friend Sandrine. She steered us to the Hotel Max. All we needed to see was that there was a pillow menu. Every variety you can imagine. We were sold from the moment we stepped into our room.<br />
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We only had a few days so we knew we had to be on the move. First stop - the Space Needle. Now I'm usually not a big fan of spending a lot of money just to ride up, walk around, and ride down. But hey, this is the <i>Space Needle</i>. It's not like we're just going up and down an elevator ride for that price.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even Bigfoot visits the Market</td></tr>
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Besides, how can I say I went to Seattle and didn't go up in the Space Needle? Exactly. I couldn't. So I won't. Because I did. The views were pretty nice. It was only a little overcast. The rain was actually starting to clear up. *<i>Gasp</i>*. That's right, the sun was fighting for equal time. I may have even pulled out my sunglasses.<br />
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We headed back down and it was on to Pike's Market. This city is really the easiest city to figure out and I mean that as a compliment. The streets, the train, it's great for people that aren't used to cities. If you are a city person, it's a a great change of pace. Once we got to Pike's, I could have lived there. Okay, well, maybe not <i>really</i>, but no, I could have.<br />
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That place is great - the flowers, the fruits and veggies, the seafood. I've never seen things so inexpensive and of such quality. Of course that's probably the only place where you'll find things so inexpensive which is why I said I could live there. We couldn't leave without watching the fish being manhandled so we hung <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gFQ93L6_8_LS2-raPl7JnGc7TqjcqHdKWUyUWyAUoTaIpfKDcJgnYlOFvhq1MYGf8hDG0hyphenhyphenLqGa7GLp5_cMDlrjnml8H1sdwUSZOeWOyO27nwA-o7MYW-jh11Dwj41Q5HMg4A3S0NJxx/s1600/fish+market.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gFQ93L6_8_LS2-raPl7JnGc7TqjcqHdKWUyUWyAUoTaIpfKDcJgnYlOFvhq1MYGf8hDG0hyphenhyphenLqGa7GLp5_cMDlrjnml8H1sdwUSZOeWOyO27nwA-o7MYW-jh11Dwj41Q5HMg4A3S0NJxx/s200/fish+market.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Little Fish Toss</td></tr>
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around for a little bit. A little crab toss, mussel toss and fish toss and then we were good to go.<br />
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Then there was the great Starbucks debate. Which one holds the claim to fame of being the first. Is it the one on 1st & Pike's or is it the one in Pike Place Market? Apparently each one says they are but only one has the official stamp. We weren't taking any chances. We posed by both. Hey, we're coffee people, we needed that picture.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHowXB5xc-m4T2ABVVr5rzFlCCnmedpWfEchfn5eWbjM4OdK3HKhn5kkpVg99cHpgkBlwj5szEgJjsSOFtv4vvmBqVULneHgSxEdXSUIJxqUvxFntUWniRfdTvRmjyy2xCjW_ge34ukwA/s1600/1st+Buckies.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHowXB5xc-m4T2ABVVr5rzFlCCnmedpWfEchfn5eWbjM4OdK3HKhn5kkpVg99cHpgkBlwj5szEgJjsSOFtv4vvmBqVULneHgSxEdXSUIJxqUvxFntUWniRfdTvRmjyy2xCjW_ge34ukwA/s200/1st+Buckies.JPG" width="200" /></a>Next stop on the tour was the underground. We had been hearing about this for months and we were pretty excited about it. We pulled up to the tour location, got ready for the first segment and saw the children. The ones under five. The one in particular that was screaming through our orientation.<br />
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Now people, please let me make myself clear. We pay good money to go on tours. If you can not find someone to watch your children, please, please do not take them on a tour that lasts over one hour. That will be in dark, confined spaces that echo. That require silence so a tour guide can speak. Why do people do this? Also, please silence your cell phones and <i>do not take that call and start talking</i> <i>while on our tour</i>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOm2X9Johzc1SWHRIsjXDK7br1cyRqj5aL3lvVQiI-0P1K1TIM54bSnTS8X2_PLEFTavYK9TdIw2ruYw6bCH-ph67J_di5mJBfjDmLz50kPV2ajI-LwMMAoVRgLZSZSK_wPSLpChF75A6P/s1600/Underground+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOm2X9Johzc1SWHRIsjXDK7br1cyRqj5aL3lvVQiI-0P1K1TIM54bSnTS8X2_PLEFTavYK9TdIw2ruYw6bCH-ph67J_di5mJBfjDmLz50kPV2ajI-LwMMAoVRgLZSZSK_wPSLpChF75A6P/s200/Underground+2.JPG" width="193" /></a>But back to the underground. It really is a fascinating place. Crazy to think people actually lived down there. We only walked a small portion of the city and once we were shown what the entry points looked like, every where we went after that we knew how extensive they actually were.<br />
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Of course, what would a dark, musty, "basement-like" place be, without a ghost or two. Supposedly there are a few hanging around some of the areas. They must have been hiding. We saw nothing. Felt nothing.<br />
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The most surprising thing of all was when we got out of the tour and came back up. <b><i>The sun was shining</i></b>. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">And so it was time. Time for the piece de resistance. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">The unexpected bonus to our trip. Who knew just by flipping open the magazine in our hotel we would have discovered gold of such amazing proportions. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">That's right my friends. I'm talking about.....ZomBCon 2011.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-LhShuDCRA_k7xDfhQ8RS7limeML1aGPh-EoTyP6KE6KGnxYhyphenhyphensbXRvivwdpLe04Y1CqvVQ6sE12-w4eKG8ksQS3irF9ov5t_-_1_S4CW5uRObVAQ71qf01wDcPVU5n7oLFFUlASz6VX/s1600/ZomBCon+Eye.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-LhShuDCRA_k7xDfhQ8RS7limeML1aGPh-EoTyP6KE6KGnxYhyphenhyphensbXRvivwdpLe04Y1CqvVQ6sE12-w4eKG8ksQS3irF9ov5t_-_1_S4CW5uRObVAQ71qf01wDcPVU5n7oLFFUlASz6VX/s200/ZomBCon+Eye.JPG" width="151" /></a><br />
We could hardly contain our excitement. Are you kidding me? Zombies? In Seattle? What's going on here? The article said Seattle was <i>the</i> zombie capital of the United States. What luck! And this weekend. We happened to be in town for the weekend of a zombie convention. Holy Sh*t. We've hit the mother lode.<br />
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We knew we had to get there. We didn't care what it took. We would rearrange our schedule to make sure it happened. We found the train, hopped on and we were on our way. Once we arrived we couldn't contain ourselves. Literally. I tripped over a huge sign in the lobby, knocking it over and really made a grand entrance. I sure had arrived.<br />
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The cast of The Walking Dead was supposed to be they had a steep "sitting" fee. Plus, we were late comers, not advance ticket holders. My goal for the day was just to pose with a zombie. Eating me of course. There were quite a few "B" list actors there which for us zombie aficionados was pretty cool to see. Not cool enough to pay $50 to pose for a picture with though. I don't pay to pose. I have enough fun taking my own pictures, why would I pay someone for theirs?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't eat me!</td></tr>
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If you'd like to check out the sites that we visited, go to the websites below:<br />
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<a href="http://www.hotelmaxseattle.com/">http://www.hotelmaxseattle.com/</a><br />
<a href="http://www.spaceneedle.com/">http://www.spaceneedle.com/</a><br />
<a href="http://www.zombcon.com/">http://www.zombcon.com/</a><br />
<a href="http://www.undergroundtour.com/">http://www.undergroundtour.com/</a><br />
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<br />
For an alternate story and for different pictures go to my other blog at:<br />
<a href="http://redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/">http://redismynaturalcolor.com/</a><br />
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*I want to thank customer service at JetBlue for giving me inaccurate information when they assured me that my flight dates would fall within the restrictions of my TrueBlue miles. They were incorrect and I lost off of my miles. When I called them on it they said it was my fault for not reading my rewards membership. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">After explaining that I did read them but got verification from a JetBlue rep that it was acceptable to fly on those dates I was told, "too bad, it's your fault". Thanks again JetBlue.</span><br />
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<br />Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-89445627505881414062011-11-02T12:40:00.000-07:002011-11-02T12:46:29.468-07:00Cupcakes & Cornpops<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When we first planned our trip to Seattle, it was just that - a trip to Seattle. It's part of our Conquer the West Coast Tour. Now that we are leaving there are so many things that we need to do. Too many things. Why didn't we ever do any of these excursions in the eight years that we've lived here? No one ever does, do they? Until it's too late. We weren't going to let that happen this time.<br />
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We started preparing for our trip when it hit us. Vancouver. I'm not talking the one in Washington State. I'm talking the one you need a passport for. You know, the good one. No offense Washington. We got excited about our little side trip. Ah, Vancouver. We'd never been to the west coast of Canada before. East coast, sure. We were old pros. Well, at least I was, but the west? Nope. Never been. We knew we had to get there. <br />
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We were all set with our Seattle plans. There was plenty to see, plenty to do but we weren't sure what we were going to do in Vancouver. We looked through a few books at Barnes & Noble but that only gave us a few ideas. The problem - it was going to be cold & rainy. We were limited in our choices. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I settled on the important things. I didn't care what we did once we got there as long as we completed my missions.<br />
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Mission one: Cupcakes. I started watching a show called The Cupcake Girls a few months ago. It's set in Vancouver. Lucky me. I needed to try these little cakes. We set our GPS on cupcake and drove. Over the border, through the rain we went. We arrived at the trademark cupcake awning and I had to contain myself. I ran out of the car when we saw the meter and realized we forgot to change our money. Oops. Mike ran to the bank while I waited. And watched. So close and yet so far. Finally we entered and saw them. A sea of little cakes dancing in front of us. Mini cakes, little cakes and even big cakes. I didn't know what to choose.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYrcGM2sKev8yDJu9gEz2PM06mkoWwNa5IpLqmuRTC6FMCfOQtYiwqa2nxQ_1LMX0fRAXZzswPa8pCb_lnrJDL67PsIUC7_2hnOiKX9LFDZxqF_B-h62_6J5uJi7K-6yMkAz_LPf7ep4mV/s1600/Death+by+Cupcake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYrcGM2sKev8yDJu9gEz2PM06mkoWwNa5IpLqmuRTC6FMCfOQtYiwqa2nxQ_1LMX0fRAXZzswPa8pCb_lnrJDL67PsIUC7_2hnOiKX9LFDZxqF_B-h62_6J5uJi7K-6yMkAz_LPf7ep4mV/s200/Death+by+Cupcake.JPG" width="159" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Death by Cupcake</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Of course you can't just have one. Or two. Or three. Well, you see where I'm going with this. We packed up two for later and sat down with two for now. I went with a lemon cake with lemon frosting. Mike went with chocolate on chocolate. I consider myself a cupcake pro. I've eaten my fair share of cupcakes & I bake them all the time. This was the first time we found ones that we both enjoyed. The cake was moist and delicious. The frosting was so soft and fluffy.<br />
<br />
In case anyone is wondering, I had to substitute the chair for the floor when I had my death by cupcake. Remember, it <i>was</i> raining. I was feeling good. And full. Mission one accomplished. But we couldn't stop now. There was more to do, more to see and another mission to fulfill.<br />
<br />
Mission Two: Canadian Corn Pops. As soon as I realized that we would be going to Canada, I knew I had to have these. For anyone that loves the pops, you have to believe me when I say that these golden puffs far outshine their American counterpart. I don't know why they are made differently but they are. They even look different. They taste like actual corn, they are round, light in color and are tasty treats. Plus the box is in French and English which I always like better anyway. Bonus! Whatever we decided to do, I didn't care as long as we got my pops before we left the country.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHMnJD4hQcSlK4QRuJck0xb3MRa8qvEKlgKiROxACgv2q-Z5yut-N0t3H18tTZqHBp9w8qmnKwByNgBvGKQLkf9rSidPBHrmt9AuadStOw7ApqRBq0AElQnnUhrSifc0lCUSgMH6Bp89Vh/s1600/Giant+Leaf.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHMnJD4hQcSlK4QRuJck0xb3MRa8qvEKlgKiROxACgv2q-Z5yut-N0t3H18tTZqHBp9w8qmnKwByNgBvGKQLkf9rSidPBHrmt9AuadStOw7ApqRBq0AElQnnUhrSifc0lCUSgMH6Bp89Vh/s200/Giant+Leaf.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">They make 'em bigger in Canada</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We put mission two on hold while we drove through the city and aimed for Stanley Park. On a sunny day this is probably a stunning place to walk around and picnic. Unfortunately we didn't have that opportunity because, did I mention it was raining? It was still a beautiful place but we didn't get to linger too long at the photo spots. Although at each spot you have to feed the meter so we weren't staying long anyway.<br />
<br />
When it's raining you're on the run in, run out plan. We got to see the whole park, stopped and got some nice souvenirs at the gift shop and even got a lovely souvenir from the park on our windshield. Thanks for the ticket Stanley Park. We'll remember you fondly. We decided we had enough after that and headed back to the city to complete mission two.<br />
<br />
I needed my pops. We hit up a few smaller grocery stores and nothing. We drove through some really cool neighborhoods. We needed to come back here. There it was - the Safeway. I know, I know, it's a sad thing. I was excited to see a supermarket. We ran in and made a beeline for the cereal aisle and there they were. I think I even heard some angel music in the background. My pops. Oh sweet lovin', there were my pops. I grabbed two boxes and crap. Cereal is expensive in Canada. $5.50 a box with our club card. It was worth it. I needed these. We headed out. Mission two accomplished.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiii-FryyTfce26LhmpEL01fiRT-e4JQQyJ_dhKTh-N1RXWtpIkc8CzIHN8NII0MIRBhHPkQwlZKMOXAxKNkqBu_PIoF0qezxAv9nRY-HoI5yk92oz53hPQrFhkLw9aTD6IrAmwKDLzzn3R/s1600/Canadian+Corn+Pops.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiii-FryyTfce26LhmpEL01fiRT-e4JQQyJ_dhKTh-N1RXWtpIkc8CzIHN8NII0MIRBhHPkQwlZKMOXAxKNkqBu_PIoF0qezxAv9nRY-HoI5yk92oz53hPQrFhkLw9aTD6IrAmwKDLzzn3R/s200/Canadian+Corn+Pops.JPG" width="136" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Golden puffs of heaven</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Time to head back to Seattle. But not without a final trip to duty free. No one heads back across the border without that last stop. We thought we would commemorate our trip with some British Columbia wine. And like that it was all over. Back to the U.S. It was a successful trip. We may not have seen all that we wanted to but we accomplished our missions and for a day trip in the rain we got the job done. Who knows. Maybe we'll be back some day. In the summer next time.<br />
<br />
To find out more about the places we visited go to:<br />
<a href="http://originalcupcakes.com/cupcakes.php">http://originalcupcakes.com/cupcakes.php</a><br />
<a href="http://seestanleypark.com/">http://seestanleypark.com/</a><br />
<br />
For an alternate ending and for different pictures go to my other blog at:<br />
<a href="http://redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/">http://redismynaturalcolor.com/</a>Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-51011775257835966622011-09-13T11:40:00.000-07:002011-09-13T16:26:26.964-07:00Bringing Back the Classics<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHIzBAtBiD8aITPRXeQQQPzugmVPQUoiLfYNKZ9otZpF4V47ru4CdWeeS0jIlyE_7ar0RabDv1TZ-fkrxRX2IKnmup8DUu1R7II6bUM6wV3ADERuNBlUlMAzVVeRjf-fEa2keHjH-gxAXO/s1600/Manchester+Dead+man+pose.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHIzBAtBiD8aITPRXeQQQPzugmVPQUoiLfYNKZ9otZpF4V47ru4CdWeeS0jIlyE_7ar0RabDv1TZ-fkrxRX2IKnmup8DUu1R7II6bUM6wV3ADERuNBlUlMAzVVeRjf-fEa2keHjH-gxAXO/s200/Manchester+Dead+man+pose.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651918166137357874" /></a>I believe it all started in Manchester, England. The year was 1997. Sarah and I had just arrived at her Uncle's house for spring break. We were walking down the hall to our room when I spotted the bathroom. It was perfect. The layout, the lighting, the bathtub with the steps - everything just screamed "crime scene". <div><br /></div><div>An idea began to take shape. I ran to our room and threw my bags down. I couldn't stop to unpack now. I grabbed Sarah and the camera. Dead Man Pose was born. It's a classic. It became a favorite of ours. I was always the model of course. Sarah was the photographer. It didn't matter where we were. I was a willing victim. My favorite was in Paris. On our hotel balcony. It's a classic and you would see the picture here if only I could find it.<div><div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYWEzKfulMLMnLYL56TJU0AAWu1-ft89y01VXLohSnAOPqUx8yYvN4oUdNLL0Tj0hNYrq4-KF34cqJN9pbrHhiFQpgOi_rCxJTxmwHJ6ZwC2ufxU5ZPZAWbdRDJ0toLYSYUBqf4TYpFhAD/s1600/dead+man+pose.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 143px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYWEzKfulMLMnLYL56TJU0AAWu1-ft89y01VXLohSnAOPqUx8yYvN4oUdNLL0Tj0hNYrq4-KF34cqJN9pbrHhiFQpgOi_rCxJTxmwHJ6ZwC2ufxU5ZPZAWbdRDJ0toLYSYUBqf4TYpFhAD/s200/dead+man+pose.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651917448621827874" /></a>But alas, like many things over the years Dead Man's Pose came and went. Like an old friend that you lost touch with over the years, it was gone but most certainly not forgotten. Until a few weeks ago. Mike and I had gone on a ghost tour in downtown San Diego. I know some of you have read about it on a previous blog. Well, at least I hope you have. </div><div><br /></div><div>We had come to the end of our tour when I saw it. The piece <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">de</span> resistance. The mother lode. The crime scene of all crime scenes. The Grand Staircase. I stopped dead in my tracks. Ha ha ha. No, wait. I'm not joking this time. I really did. My eyes were open wide. I was in awe. I couldn't move. I caressed the newel post. You know, the thing you hold on to at the end of the stairs. The newel post. Or, the thing my mom likes to hang her purse on. </div><div><br /></div><div>I looked around. There were so many people on our tour. I didn't know if I could do it. Should I throw myself down on the stairs right here? Damn. The dilemma I was facing. I moved on. We toured the room for another 10 minutes and my eyes kept returning to the stairs and lost opportunities. I thought of Sarah. I knew I would regret it. I had to bring back the classics. No regrets, no regrets. I had to do it for me, for Sarah and for old times. </div><div><br /></div><div>I ran to the stairs. Our tour group looked at me with wonder. I excused myself. Told them it was all about the Dead Man Pose. As I threw myself on the floor to the sounds of laughter I couldn't help but smile. Mike snapped away. I had forgotten how entertaining this was. I didn't even think about the dirty floor I was laying on. Until now. Remember it's all about getting that shot, all about the shot.</div><div> <div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhACG3eho9t-XzK9dHFxYi4v_ozSqSKEuzMsYqBeptP7iLDjYjIkVimjtNIPF7SeAhJsMfcIF9Bvqmb1i8JbFRhb8eknVabFxhXHhZ7KrCpLZIb2hyTASCvJo26wZtVEgYYqRbcGI4YUWmj/s1600/dead+man+on+rocks+1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhACG3eho9t-XzK9dHFxYi4v_ozSqSKEuzMsYqBeptP7iLDjYjIkVimjtNIPF7SeAhJsMfcIF9Bvqmb1i8JbFRhb8eknVabFxhXHhZ7KrCpLZIb2hyTASCvJo26wZtVEgYYqRbcGI4YUWmj/s200/dead+man+on+rocks+1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651917217281808914" /></a><br /></div><div>That was the beauty about those days. I didn't think about certain things. Or over think. I just had fun. I went for it and sometimes that's what it's really all about. That's what I miss. Just go for it. It's time that I bring that attitude back. Even if it's just starting small. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I thought I'd honor the past and keep it current. Let's keep that pose coming. On the stairs, on a rock, where ever the mood strikes me. But the pose is always with you in mind Sarah. Always.</div><div><div><div><div><br /></div><div>For an alternate ending and for different pictures, go to my other blog at:</div><div><a href="http://www.redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/">http://www.redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/</a></div></div></div></div></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-33242468221432613212011-08-30T11:40:00.000-07:002011-09-02T16:19:30.334-07:00A Spooky Fascination<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9i2hZDY0HRLEhKkdfDJnG_tjJ0f597TrNN0mI62Kl2sCrzbNwj3julShWfp_MIbiq2x_BcH5LjkKVWcrUdH3efYwVERwG_TxCvqdG4ms6a1xT4mZIruO7pg612XyG2raxT7MAjNrDySE/s1600/London+Dungeon.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9i2hZDY0HRLEhKkdfDJnG_tjJ0f597TrNN0mI62Kl2sCrzbNwj3julShWfp_MIbiq2x_BcH5LjkKVWcrUdH3efYwVERwG_TxCvqdG4ms6a1xT4mZIruO7pg612XyG2raxT7MAjNrDySE/s200/London+Dungeon.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646728864661028834" /></a>I have always been fascinated with all things scary. Some might even say obsessed. I don't know why, I don't even know when or how it started but for as long as I can remember I have always enjoyed anything related to all things scary. Books, movies, rides, games, I'll take it all. I'll try it all. It's ironic really. My mom is terrified of anything scary. Definitely not her first choice. I don't know where I got it from. I'm telling you, an obsession.<div>
<br /></div><div>I remember going to the library and picking up my first Dean Koontz book. It was called <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Darkfall</span></span></i>. Great book. I couldn't wait to finish it. Until my mom saw me reading it and took it away. Said I was too young. What?? Nine is definitely not too young. Do you know how hard it is to finish reading a book when you have to sneak read chapters every time you go to the library and do covert ops? Leave your mom and brother in the kid section while you run to the adult section looking for Dean Koontz? Not an easy task. Same thing happened when I tried reading <i>The Exorcist</i> when I was eleven. Confiscated. This time by a teacher. What's with this censorship? I even had to sneak my movies in. A classic like Poltergeist. Imagine that. I had to wait until the parents were out before I could catch up on my horror classics. What's a girl to do? Thank goodness for Nana and the babysitter. Whew. <div><div>
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITNAlgW5uSVM0Hhj29C-pixndYEW3v3_xGE4TGAckh8vtu0uLflBQrecyX1XkSaTUppSblgpwQDQMt2MnweD0eFtJBBer-XsMERauP0VpqeZB4MRQCTdcTtRSRat6aTKfvhGAL8I2TqNh/s1600/Jack+the+ripper.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITNAlgW5uSVM0Hhj29C-pixndYEW3v3_xGE4TGAckh8vtu0uLflBQrecyX1XkSaTUppSblgpwQDQMt2MnweD0eFtJBBer-XsMERauP0VpqeZB4MRQCTdcTtRSRat6aTKfvhGAL8I2TqNh/s200/Jack+the+ripper.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646728718507088546" /></a>My friends can attest that it's been like this forever. They've all been sucked into my world of ghosts and horror movies. Yes, we've all watched great movies and cheesy movies. Those are the best ones of course. I'm not ashamed to admit it. They might be but I'm not. Classics. That's what I'll call them. As I got older I discovered the mother lode. All over the world. This was brilliant. Everywhere you went you could be entertained and learn. Yes, that's right, it was a history lesson. Sure, that's what it was. I was learning all about the history of where I was. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Ghost tours and museums and much, much more. Now these were definitely the kinds of museums I could visit all day long. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Throughout the years I've been on a few ghost tours and a few interesting "horror" tours as well. Whether or not they are scary I guess is up to the individual but you definitely learn some cool facts and depending on who is in your group you can be entertained. I'm pretty lucky. I always have a good group with me. It's always me and whoever I take. So yes, that's a good group. We know how to entertain ourselves, no matter where we are. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>First stop - London Dungeon on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Tooley</span></span> Street. It looked like Sarah need a little head chopping. I was up for the task. This place was fascinating. It told 1000 years of London's most dark and gory history. There are different rooms that tell the tales of what went on throughout history and most of it is in the dark. The anticipation of what you think is going to happen is probably what is the most scary. We loved it. Of course you can't leave London without going on a Jack the Ripper Tour. Also a night tour, which you'll find is the best for a ghost tour. Trial and error, my friends. I remember a lot of walking down cobblestone streets for this one. Sure, not as scary as a traditional ghost tour might be but still a pretty interesting walk when you try to think of walking down the same paths as others did so long ago. <div><div>
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh112o3_kdkkpn9dydawsYfypxpyeoRNximpmHn0LyKQnqao4Rq6Elmz9m6MdYVxenJCP9d0dQVX-DEQ2Y-shP7FQLj2l_BkhWM2lOdaA8dfxFelnizZnSDoc0VidNV_p34W1MfT3dqvUit/s1600/Scotland+Tour.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 104px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh112o3_kdkkpn9dydawsYfypxpyeoRNximpmHn0LyKQnqao4Rq6Elmz9m6MdYVxenJCP9d0dQVX-DEQ2Y-shP7FQLj2l_BkhWM2lOdaA8dfxFelnizZnSDoc0VidNV_p34W1MfT3dqvUit/s200/Scotland+Tour.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646728624926059714" /></a>By far one of the coolest ghost tours I have ever gone on was in Edinburgh, Scotland. I was flying solo for this little bad boy. Walking around the old streets of this beautiful city was amazing and to cap it off with a visit to the underground haunted vaults was fascinating. You would never think while you are walking around above ground that there is a complete city underneath you. These vaults have been featured on T.V. as being the most actively haunted and paranormal experiencing locations in the world. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Much like in London, you learn about the historical dark side of Edinburgh. I think it's time I go back for another tour. I see they've added some new things. At the end of the tour they now take you to Scotland's most haunted pub for a drink, The Banshee Labyrinth. Wait a minute. Look at all this history. This is actually a very educational fascination. Learning <i>and</i> getting entertained at the same time. Really, what more could you ask for?</div><div><div><div>
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTyAQtNBpAgmXYqYslDxYCTcwdU0MKSwAsccIzSD4ev-L6YieOHm21sfcCHYnd7mtYyIqJvU-bTztKMY6pbm6Ncm25U96NEmHGghKRI1XZmVYbcPswPwQgEp0Bf_7biLEkUoVuqS_D57JU/s1600/Mike+%2526+the+stairwell.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 149px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTyAQtNBpAgmXYqYslDxYCTcwdU0MKSwAsccIzSD4ev-L6YieOHm21sfcCHYnd7mtYyIqJvU-bTztKMY6pbm6Ncm25U96NEmHGghKRI1XZmVYbcPswPwQgEp0Bf_7biLEkUoVuqS_D57JU/s200/Mike+%2526+the+stairwell.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646728059168438626" /></a>Now it was time for us to hit up San Diego. We'd done a brief tour on our own before. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Whaley</span></span> House in Old Town. The Chamber of Commerce had dubbed it the most haunted house in America. Now that's a pretty good title. However, we had made a mistake. Day time. I know I mentioned that earlier. Never take a day tour of a haunted location. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Now I'm not saying you're guaranteed to see anything at night but hey, it's more fun. Plus, there aren't children running up and down the stairs going "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">wooooooooo</span></span> I'm a ghost". This does not make for a good atmosphere. I do actually recommend going to The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Whaley</span></span> House. I'd like to go back at night. It was interesting. But this time we decided to take a walking tour of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Gaslamp</span></span> District in downtown San Diego. San Diego is perhaps known as the most haunted city in the United States. We started off at the Georges V Hotel on Fifth Street which was once owned by Wyatt Earp, but not haunted by him. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>This is haunted by former women of ill repute. Well what to you know because we also found out that the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Gaslamp</span></span> used to be the red light district. I love history. We had fun running up and down the stairs at this location and it's a good thing we did because unfortunately many of the buildings that we were shown we could not enter. One, which used to be a mortuary and was very haunted, was now a private jazz club. So private that there was no phone number and had a fake law office door to fool people into thinking it was something else. Really? Also on Fifth Street. It costs $300 to get into. I'd rather be a ghost. Another building that we couldn't enter was a restaurant. The owners believed it was not good to mess with spirits. What the hell is going on here?</div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqq654zTHo7890KdhTBWG1796m8qchSGi8Y6akdxE28kBUCjfJcwd3AvJ_fnEN0H-dFBC6uUxCXEKG4HImFEPsfBX6lwgPdbfmHWPQ1oGlaU55bNnESuIsZTBXVNbXTV4a5bLbra_LiTrc/s1600/George+V+Bldg.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 122px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqq654zTHo7890KdhTBWG1796m8qchSGi8Y6akdxE28kBUCjfJcwd3AvJ_fnEN0H-dFBC6uUxCXEKG4HImFEPsfBX6lwgPdbfmHWPQ1oGlaU55bNnESuIsZTBXVNbXTV4a5bLbra_LiTrc/s200/George+V+Bldg.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646727124568854242" /></a>
<br /><div>Our last stop on the tour was the Horton Grand Hotel. It was actually two hotels split by a lobby. This place was haunted by two ghosts. The Horton Grand was graced by the ghost of Ida Bailey. She preferred showing herself to the men and didn't appear to women. Sure, I can understand that. Which is why I gave up Mike as a sacrifice. Our tour guide said she was fond of money. Well, duh, who isn't? Mike pulled out that cash and sat on the stairs. I didn't want to leave him out there too long so I just made him pose for a few pictures and I let him come back down. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>The other side of the hotel is called the Kale Saddlery and is haunted by Roger Whittaker, who was a gambler. He haunts room 309. Of course we were told that we couldn't go up here either because it was occupied. Well of course it's occupied. There's a ghost in it. Apparently if you want to see ghosts you have to make a reservation to stay at the hotel for which there is a three year waiting list. For room 309 anyway. Looks like I'm going to have to find my ghosts somewhere else. I wonder if the tour group is in cahoots with the merchants around San Diego. Apparently the only way to get inside these buildings now is if you pay. Or if you're a ghost. </div></div></div></div></div><div>
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<br /></div><div><a href="http://www.the-dungeons.co.uk/">http://www.the-dungeons.co.uk</a></div><div><a href="http://www.auldreekietours.com/">http://www.auldreekietours.com</a></div><div><a href="http://whaleyhouse.org/">http://whaleyhouse.org/</a></div><div><a href="http://gothere.com/">http://gothere.com</a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 21px; ">
<br /></span></span></div><div><div>For an alternate ending and for different pictures, go to my other blog at:</div><div><a href="http://www.redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/">http://www.redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/</a></div></div><div>
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<br /></div></div>Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-7232405999571620282011-08-29T08:57:00.001-07:002011-09-02T12:31:56.666-07:00The Way Camping Should Be<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyzWjp3qYN9XrCuHKgq8q82vF-4rsJj13_idvnQsMZahc2VUZIhLLRUd12VpPZEBQy07vA1IpbPnCxIqgS0MfWBHPH3FbW_1u60-bmoBAiCacC38ZSMpYDLeXXWEiUzZlVJWbYam-LpUiS/s1600/outdoor+camping.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyzWjp3qYN9XrCuHKgq8q82vF-4rsJj13_idvnQsMZahc2VUZIhLLRUd12VpPZEBQy07vA1IpbPnCxIqgS0MfWBHPH3FbW_1u60-bmoBAiCacC38ZSMpYDLeXXWEiUzZlVJWbYam-LpUiS/s200/outdoor+camping.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646316880776535026" /></a>I've always loved camping. Been doing it all my life. Literally. From the time I was a baby I've been hitting those woods. Sleeping bags, tents, firewood, roasting marshmallows over an open fire, yes, it's an old familiar feeling to me. I've always been a big fan. When I was growing up I couldn't wait to get out in those woods. The campsite we used to go to had so many things to do - even blueberry picking. That was one of my favorites. I love berry picking. <div>
<br /></div><div>Even now when I smell wood burning the first thing I say is ooh it smells like camping. It's a great smell. It takes me back to good old Mongaup Pond in the Catskills of New York State. We used to go there every summer. Or at least it seemed that way. It was almost like a home away from home. The crisp, fresh air. The cool, clean lake. Relaxing in the hammock. That was good stuff. Until one day it all changed. Mosquitoes? Humidity? Sweat and dirt? Where the hell did all this come from? Where was the fun? Where was the relaxation and zen-like aura? Was this what camping was now all about? I think we might have a problem. <div>
<br /></div><div>Don't get me wrong. I don't mind getting a little dirty here and there. I like to play. I'm all for adventure. But I have to draw the line somewhere. At this stage in the game, do I really want to go on vacation and "rough it"? I don't think so. But I was willing to give it a try again. Last year we really did try to go camping. A new way. On the beach. We'd never been beach camping and we thought it might be fun. Apparently so did everyone else. All of the sites were booked. So we did what every normal person would do - we improvised and went camping in our backyard. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBjrwQ6KjussqOhWCMhkHjRHf4Ll7_Ya3hKGRtZ1C8L3TV8fZJrFgIq5BmcQ_xmuHXWRtscMvustStdPDAbT02q3r0oVvUQ9X9UY8Y0YrJx4RnBZuUm_bVKfiRCvHfJaSQnh4yr5sxuR5e/s1600/tent+1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBjrwQ6KjussqOhWCMhkHjRHf4Ll7_Ya3hKGRtZ1C8L3TV8fZJrFgIq5BmcQ_xmuHXWRtscMvustStdPDAbT02q3r0oVvUQ9X9UY8Y0YrJx4RnBZuUm_bVKfiRCvHfJaSQnh4yr5sxuR5e/s200/tent+1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646315418137658226" /></a>It was a perfect plan really. We already had a fire pit. We had the s'mores and everyone knows that this is really the most important part to any camping adventure. We had the tent, the air mattress, our sleeping bags and we were all set. We got our pillows, put little Charlie Brown inside and we were all set. What could go wrong?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Apparently someone forgot to tell the flea that he was not invited. Damn. Just when you think you're safe from all the perils of regular camping, you can't even make it without a scratch from backyard camping. What had happened since I was younger? It was all so innocent and fun. I knew those days were over. We had to change our tactics if we ever wanted to use our tent again. We had to clean the sleeping bag and air out the tent well. All because of one uninvited guest. Charlie wasn't too happy either. He had to go to the doctor. It was his first camping experience and I'm pretty sure he was done with it. We packed up our equipment and were done with the tent.</div><div><div><div>
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2rrF830P7nm3PYR6NDR3RXW3EBc4_0BjEjIIIQ4fRd5I4cyuwXF_9q-fjVNW7ZL-lZDaSg0yuWsbT4sPTDSXdzsYl6zBuLzSTKoTnkRODfkufJ4zF2RH2lUURnYMyyA4cmyJ5ctdoLNw/s1600/tent+2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2rrF830P7nm3PYR6NDR3RXW3EBc4_0BjEjIIIQ4fRd5I4cyuwXF_9q-fjVNW7ZL-lZDaSg0yuWsbT4sPTDSXdzsYl6zBuLzSTKoTnkRODfkufJ4zF2RH2lUURnYMyyA4cmyJ5ctdoLNw/s200/tent+2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646315315592307106" /></a>Until one year later. An idea came to me. They generally do. I like to entertain myself. Sometimes others. But mostly I need to keep myself entertained so this is why I am always coming up with new things to do. This time it was camping. In the living room. Why not? Bug-free, heat-free and it was a nice change of pace. I told Mike my idea and we ran with it. He moved all of the furniture into the office and we set the tent up. Charlie wasn't happy at all. He remembered his nemesis. He could have done without the tent - inside or out. But hey, we were loving it. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>It was perfect for a couch too. A couple of snack tray tables and we were good to go. I've decided that maybe this is the way to go - who says camping has to be in the woods? Camping is all in what you decide to make of it. I can camp out where ever I want. I used to love making tents in my room with my brother when I was little. Who says you have to stop? The only difference now is that we can use an actual tent in my room. Brilliant I say. Want s'mores? Just use that fire pit in the backyard. Same results, same smoky campfire smell. Then run back into your tent in the living room. With the air conditioner keeping you cool. Luxury camping. Now this is much more like it. </div></div><div>
<br /></div><div><div>For an alternate ending and for different pictures, go to my other blog at:</div><div><a href="http://www.redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/">http://www.redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/</a></div></div></div>Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8167492227564727889.post-26948523531110744112011-08-16T08:15:00.000-07:002011-09-08T13:05:10.936-07:00Just like Venice...but with Fireworks.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjij4_c8_7jh0zgL7zRpKpTLLYlPQJdI0BxdFDGl0rHvOovQulaP7_po74r3oxYSigMY0Wwhc0bHIvjIRL6nApvBCZkLzhr6UEM2FVYxMZ0jsXMpWp3e5HMTmjwKVaiFG7wm1BOo-z4W2Bm/s1600/DSCN4301.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjij4_c8_7jh0zgL7zRpKpTLLYlPQJdI0BxdFDGl0rHvOovQulaP7_po74r3oxYSigMY0Wwhc0bHIvjIRL6nApvBCZkLzhr6UEM2FVYxMZ0jsXMpWp3e5HMTmjwKVaiFG7wm1BOo-z4W2Bm/s200/DSCN4301.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641685359519738738" /></a>The Grand Old Gondola. We've all heard of it. Seen pictures. Envisioned floating down the canals of Venice as your gondolier belts out beautiful music. Well, perhaps most of us have. And perhaps it doesn't always go <i>exactly</i> as you have might have dreamed it would. It usually doesn't but then again, that's what makes the best memories. I was in Italy with my cousin Margaret in the summer of 1998. We were staying at an apartment in Florence but we had a Euro rail pass and on the weekends we would travel all throughout Europe. We decided it was time for Venice. We didn't have a game plan. We never did. <div><br /></div><div>I'm generally a wing-it type of girl. A basic game plan is fine <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJL5WfYgq9ltFzLxaieCsIyX4Is6ys5_CxNhauCmgg9_QS3-9He5qx2bmb9cMMuosG9YEurEQ6Gf09RPv87CRbjHI7XMjA0-Y2yRXgRxKmKs3r5f6YIk185BrdIR79nvn1ljXP2_7wPEhA/s200/DSCN4302.JPG" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641685240784934290" />but nothing was set in stone. We had a few ideas. Shopping. Check. Drink wine. Check. Did I mention shopping? I wanted Venetian glass. I knew my shopping. I was a professional. Oh and of course we knew we wanted to go for that gondola ride. I mean, seriously, who goes to Venice and skipped out on the gondola? We didn't waste any time. </div><div><br /></div><div>Day one - shopping. Mission complete. Drink wine. Mission complete. Day Two. Uh oh. Drank too much wine. Get on a gondola after too much wine. Damn. Apparently I didn't think this through. I knew I couldn't skip out on this so I had to suck it up. We were pretty excited. We boarded our gondola and couldn't wait for the music to begin. What fine opera would we hear this morning? Pavarotti? Bocelli? Nope. Elvis Presley. That's right. Our gondolier excitedly pressed play on the tape recorder and said for us he would play Elvis. We couldn't stop laughing. Don't get me wrong, it was an amazing ride and I like Elvis but we were in <i>Italy</i>. <i>On a old fashioned gondola</i>. But hey, he was thrilled so we went with it. The history and architecture of the buildings was absolutely amazing. I could have ridden all day. Almost. When you decide to ride a gondola, or any kind of sea-going vessel, remember to do it on an alcohol-free stomach. I learned my lesson that day.<div><br /><div><div><div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmc469egv_XVq5_oFL2fzttbH9K6Fd88BREDHeEgLKQnDfCPISWaBVMtLvQizJn6NEWap_MU0FL5jikMVlQUD3TbOvHQtg2K7Rae0qte9YQ7cPouwRPQGsoPcVZtLAjnV9Z7-PRXlW0Qv/s200/gondola.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641492419648416402" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 96px; " /></div></div><div>It's ironic. Italy had never actually been one of the countries on my "to visit" list and yet I had the best time ever and I have always been plotting a return trip. The gondola is also another ride that I needed to revisit. I didn't know when it would happen but I knew it would. I put it out of my head though and moved on. Then came my birthday. Mike had a surprise for me. I'm not a good surprise person. I detect. No, I don't snoop, I detect. It's not my fault if I just figure things out. Sometimes with no clues at all. It's a gift. But I promised that I wouldn't even try and I didn't. So this time I had no idea what I was in store for. </div><div><br /></div><div>We headed South. When we reached our destination I still didn't know what we were doing. We were on Coronado Island and that's when Mike pointed it out to me. There it was. The Grand Old Gondola. Whoa. I smiled and started to tell him about my first gondola experience. It brought back so many memories. This one would bring new and different ones. For starters, I could happily say I did not drink too much the night before. This is always a great start to any boat excursion. This time we actually had the wine with us. This is definitely the way to go. Drink the wine <i>on</i> the boat. <i>On the boat</i>.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMDID7HsDRtbzPw9-75zT4RGoiLLFCLvYImhEZKIw4_C9cWo6e7lgHz2I-G5Kcm2Gbi4zNuDfitLbm2n1RuqlE94OyV2o3OqNncHg_vDBW2aSzA6xjivSjScoYe1WSRgcxWuX8lFOlWGBq/s200/Gondola+1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641492226837213938" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /><br /><div>I've definitely learned so much through the years. We also had snacks and a blanket. Now that is what I call planning ahead. We settled into our gondola, food in lap, wineglass in hand and pulled our blanket all around us. We were toasty warm and settled in. All we needed was our musical selection. Uh oh. What would we get? A flashback to my 1998 Venice gondola ride where the gondolier was trying to be more American? Or would we actually get an authentic Italian experience, right here in the heart of San Diego? Authentico it was. We cruised the bay for the next hour, relaxing to the sounds of Italian opera, enjoying our Italian wine - compliments of our friend Kevin - and eating our antipasto. For a brief moment, we didn't think about anything else. It was just the two of us. And the gondolier. Enjoying the peace and tranquility of everything around us in San Diego. One last time.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixtNPI0RkCv9vRQGz9O7PhH1M7KoNNA975-SA6nF00yEQpu3yTCjwm6W8sCl6tBaUCb0oWkVZnNtXP1Y48f_xO9NIvCSUD1aEdc8V1sAOuE3vmXkM6ygE7w_nwnq8FskHhpMcNXh0fJiU7/s200/gondola+w+horse.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641491990504056658" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></div><div>It was a perfect day. No rushing, no worrying about what to do, where to go or who we were going to do it with. It was just us. And for that day Mike transported us back to Italy. It started with homemade pizza for lunch. Compliments of Chef Mike. After we left "Venice", we went to Il Fornaio for dinner and completed the taste of Italy. There was even a fireworks show put on outside our restaurant window. How many people can say that they have a fireworks show put on just for them on their birthday? </div><div><br /></div><div>That Mike sure is an amazing guy. I don't know where we'll be for the next birthday but it doesn't matter. We can transport ourselves to anyplace with an idea and a little imagination. As long as we enjoy ourselves along the way. And don't drink too much the night before getting in the gondola. </div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>If you'd like to experience a taste of Venice in San Diego, visit The Gondola Company at www.gondolacompany.com to find out how. </div><div><br /></div><div><div>For an alternate ending and for different pictures, go to my other blog at:</div><div><a href="http://www.redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/">http://www.redismynaturalcolor.wordpress.com/</a></div></div></div></div>Melissa K Bauerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17338540816944435395noreply@blogger.com0