tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57985277865827456552024-02-06T22:01:29.363-08:00daisy of the galaxyAshleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.comBlogger151125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-84088244781596887502012-07-30T21:33:00.001-07:002012-07-30T21:42:10.001-07:00Why can't I just stay?To find something so beautiful that it makes you cry to witness God's creations is an amazing feeling. My trip to Montana on July 20 surpassed all of my expectations. I honestly can't find the words to describe this place. Normal adjectives just won't do. And to sum up the weekend in one paragraph is a travesty as I don't feel I'm doing it justice. However, I could write all night about my trip so...I'm just going to post what my friend Anneke wrote:<br />
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Rewind. My wonderful friend <a data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=71002484" href="http://www.facebook.com/ashleypjamison">Ashley Jamison</a> from Arkansas visited us this weekend, and we rode horses into the sunset, got chased by wild stallions, slept in a cosy little cabin, then set up camp in the beautiful Crazy Mountains, fly fished for speckly Rainbow Trout, explored blue lakes and thundering rapids, crossed rivers and streams, and climbed over logs. Jeremiah Johnson would want to take us for a wife if he had seen it. Best weekend ever. We have scratches and mosquito bites and tan to prove it."<br />
Can you believe I did all of that in 48 hours? I know. It's unreal. And I also know that you are going, "Wow! How did that Ashley Jamison girl get up that mountain with all the chocolate sauce she eats?" Yeah. It was quite amazing how I kept up for the most part. The crisp, clean air was so easy to breathe I just glided right up. I also had the pleasure of renting my first car. Although it was a Kia (not to hate on Kia owners but mine was a load of poo) I had a nice 7 hour drive from Montana and Wyoming. I sang at the top of my lungs and even had to stop and pee on the side of the road. Note to Montana: need more rest stops so that I won't have to pee on the side of the road and act like I'm sight seeing when people drive by. Thanks.<br />
<br />
I honestly wanted to stay. I created different ploys in my head. I'll put sawdust in the car. I'll slash the tires. I'll just say I'm not going home. I want to move to Montana and just live the simple life. I feel like Little Rock people just get so caught up in "stuff". You have to drive a certain car and dress a certain way and talk a certain way and poof your hair and wear hairspray and lots of jewelry. Whatever happened to simplicity? I drive a Chevy, wear clothes from resale shops (that's not to say I won't splurge every now and then) and eat non-organic food. Why is everything such a big deal? That's why I want to live in Montana. And also for the fact that is just so stinking awesome.<br />
The family vacay was great also! It's been so long since I've been with my parents and siblings and their spouses. Being the middle child and the most neglected, I got to stay in the loft. Yay! Sorry...did I say neglected? Oops I meant strongest. Not all people can climb straight up a ladder ten times a day. Only people that hike up mountains. We did Yellowstone, ate at great restaurants, saw actual Hutterites (an offspring of the Amish) up in the Dairy Queen, and I went up in a ski lift for the first time. Pics and maybe videos to come. Y'all know I'm bad about posting :)<br />
<br />
-Ashe<br />
<div class="blogpress_location">
Location:<a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Billings,%20MT%4045.786416%2C-108.516616&z=10">Billings, MT</a></div>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-6971304315386347702012-07-04T08:47:00.001-07:002012-07-04T08:47:55.419-07:00Pura Vida MaeFor those who have been to Costa Rica before, you will know what the title means. For those who have not, it means "The Pure Life". Mae means "dude". You will hear that more in the coastal cities. They will answer with "Pura Vida" to just about anything. <br /><br />"How are you?" "Pura Vida"<br />"How was your meal?" "Pura Vida"<br /><br />That's the Tico slogan. I think it's a fabulous way to look at life. Ticos honestly are the most laid-back group of people I've ever been around. It's so refreshing not to have to worry about your busy life all the time. <br /><br />My stay in Sámara was lovely. My host family was precious. I do hope to visit again one day. I had many adventures as well. I kayaked to Isla Chora (Chora Island) which is on the Pacific. I'll tell you what, kayaking on a river and on the ocean are totally different. And you also need a good partner. Bless her heart, mine had never done it before and at times I wanted to throw her overboard. We got there safely without tipping over like the other crew did. I also tried snorkeling which turned out badly. It was way to rough especially for a person that doesn't swim well. My flipper feet weren't the right size and slipped off. I had to swim back by myself and nearly drowned. Panicking in the ocean is not conducive to good swimming. I finally made it without hyperventilating.<br /><br /><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/118146517855516868953/DaisyOfTheGalaxy?authkey=Gv1sRgCOO74rnun5zHAg#5761341332913513058'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFKiFEcmMtkPQcy8W_-alO80rKgskcQ7amg_cjUX9JLlOV8rq8N_AIG2kEdXSbGpThxd862gi_xhlUBngcAJRIqsvG2uedyWHr_5MCSTr0w2k0Ai2Yq0o2CBN-hTq3pu24YMKatJl8VSc/s288/6.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' align='right' style='margin:5px'></a><br />Horseback rising was also a must. Even though I'd done these things four years ago when I was there, I wanted to do them again. I was the most experienced rider which isn't saying much since I've only ever ridden a few times. It was all going well until the end. I wanted to gallop on the beach and feel wild and free. So I did. I just had no idea that the other horses would follow suit if they saw my horse. Uh oh. A sweet girl from Canada didn't know how to control her horse. At this point, we were all going super fast. It was getting so dark. I see Stephanie fly past me on her horse, arms and legs flying (her feet had gotten loose). She was trying to stop the horse, but it kept going faster. The next thing I saw was Stephanie flying off the horse and hitting a tree. Her head hit the tree, and I honestly thought she'd broken her neck because her head snapped back. I quickly stopped and assessed damage. She was sitting up and talking...in utter shock and disbelief. We call the doctor. I speak for her since her English is not good and since she was so angry. She hit her chin thank goodness. At least it wasn't the brain area as I was worried she might have a concussion. No teeth missing or blood in the mouth. Just some scrapes on her chin, chest, back and arms. She was one lucky girl. What all of us didn't know was that my roommate Sarah from Minnesota also fell. Her horse bucked her off and she landed on her bottom. She will have some pretty bruises from that. So friends, the moral of the story is: don't gallop on the beach.<br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/118146517855516868953/DaisyOfTheGalaxy?authkey=Gv1sRgCOO74rnun5zHAg#5761341386730226450'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZMvLVfp43cMYJ6hY5LAzfdWfdyVwG_DajYTT7lbGtIot7LjJeWjTr5879S52619nVyuNXoR7vgJBn756HaJsxeUCwFlFBiZhZ_J93liNayGa4ff95kACyA7BRR8S9ApsBOTqa9vhXPvU/s288/5.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/118146517855516868953/DaisyOfTheGalaxy?authkey=Gv1sRgCOO74rnun5zHAg#5761341459927164402'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyoqotvpmtW21araj1oxctLDAGaFxrgaJxsJ3oxjiZdHEq6iz1kBx18mrnbfDYTwcRDhpEgEWyhnrOvtKMcvjX4AW1OMRwjcGWMUDVEosrfcpp_DvNHHQv99LMg1VDdsQZncvTXpm2HZw/s288/4.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/118146517855516868953/DaisyOfTheGalaxy?authkey=Gv1sRgCOO74rnun5zHAg#5761341509430751986'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Deg1t6xVJHCEPI0Zkb5rCZkT9h67S3DdbI5RIkkFX2axgPsOBtKjPz8IGOUwNWEMz9d-2QZxrD6CLT1QKXnBxnKjBMrnD1vbCas1iGyWr0NtszLy0FVfRlTtDKTZ_HVsPEVQ3QeeJFc/s288/3.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Rachelle and I arrived in Tamarindo yesterday. It's so touristy which is totally different from Sámara. Our hotel is fantastic! I highly recommend to anyone traveling here on a budget. For $85/night, we get a king size bed, twin bed, dining area with kitchenette, hot water, air conditioning, wi fi, and HBO. The pool is beautiful with a waterfall thing. Breakfast is the best. A huge plate of fresh fruit (7 different fruits) then your breakfast of choice: traditional with eggs, gallo pinto (rice and black beans mixed together), cheese, bacon and a tortilla OR continental with eggs, toast and bacon. Coffee and fresh juice is also there. <br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/118146517855516868953/DaisyOfTheGalaxy?authkey=Gv1sRgCOO74rnun5zHAg#5761341550272199570'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQjp5LEtH3Pwwhh_HGpOsvKFKtTwxsQ9JizOTArxWilG5CAUvpolVH3a8tomiliuSthk0ir5mnbdp5HZkwzYBv6N6AvnxWo_HZZYYuWI1-sJVErl413dOqy192ZlZJWOkGyUSvXfpD6M/s288/2.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='https://picasaweb.google.com/118146517855516868953/DaisyOfTheGalaxy?authkey=Gv1sRgCOO74rnun5zHAg#5761341592381341506'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVdn3aSG9xBEHh1W9JTjxJIS0Xq26ziXA7UBbgKoHcxGrpnti-Q87ESPOf89XKzNtKsEKEMpYo46QQzaJARGY9ugl5kXfWEJnb2BZwpzZdPwghsYPC0G0E0GEz2nNjA6oyE4-Xs6L_Kc/s288/1.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Some other students from the school and I took a weekend trip to the Monteverde cloud forest for zip lining and then to Arenal to visit the Baldí Hot Springs resort and a natural wild life resort. It's so cool up there (low 60s at night) and was a nice break from the heat. <br /><br />I have met so many people that will be lifelong friends. I have eaten well, gotten mosquito bites, and practiced my Spanish. A Tico actually thought I was Latina because of my accent. He said I sounded like a natural. Of course that thrilled me! <br /><br />Off to explore Tamarindo. Have a blessed July 4th! Yay for America!<br />-Ashe<br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Nature%20Trail,Tamarindo,Costa%20Rica%4010.296241%2C-85.839949&z=10'>Nature Trail,Tamarindo,Costa Rica</a></p>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-15271592005360113432012-06-25T13:16:00.001-07:002012-06-25T13:16:09.797-07:00Destination: Costa RicaI figured I'd just write what I put in my journal. It's long so get over it or don't read it. Or go sit by yourself and stare at people. This is from yesterday. <br /><br />Sunday June 24--Day 1<br />I'm now sitting on the floor in the Liberia airport waiting<br /> on my taxi driver to get ready to leave. Finding my taxi was a bit difficult. After a great and safe four hour flight down, I come out and look for my name on a piece of paper. I don't see my name. I look again at their papers, but I still don't see my name. I see a blond American girl, and she asked if I was having trouble finding my ride. She said she was going to Sámara and would give me a ride. She said she was waiting on her friend flying in from NYC.<br /><br />I'm a risk taker, but I sho nuff am not getting in an unverified taxi.i was going to ride with María the American. I found out she's from Ohio, and works for a health and wellness center in Sámara. I've already made a friend! As soon as I'd decided to ride with María from Ohio, a man with an Intercultura sign came up to me. But...he doesn't have my name card. Boobface!! He has cards for Kyle and Stefanie. He said he had my name card in the taxi. I asked Maria to walk out to the taxi with me. Ya know, for safety. It turns out he did have my name card. No wonder he was confused. It said I was to fly into San Jose June 29 at 11:45. I asked if Paola still worked there and why there were mistakes. He said that Paola's assistant Stefanía is responsible. That boob. <br /><br />So here I am waiting in the Liberia airport for Kyle and Stephanie to show up. I've been here since 1:00...it's now 2:30. <br /><br />It's 3:15 and finally Stephanie is here. Stephanie is 31 and from Montreal. We got to visit in the taxi. My second friend! Kyle didn't show up or maybe our taxi driver got tired of waiting. Elio, the taxi driver, was so nice. We arrived in Sámara around 5:00. Stephanie lives right around the corner from the school. I, on the other hand, live a 25 minute walk from school. It's way farther than my previous home stay here. <br /><br />My Tica mom's name is Kattia Palma. She has two boys, Rory and Joey. She seems nice but not as happy and motherly as Marlene. <br /><br />I venture off to find my favorite places. I meet two snotty girls from Florida. They just graduated college. I just wanted to be like, "Calm down. I'm not going to steal your man (even though I'm way cuter)." It felt so familiar to be back at school and on that beach. I saw new friend Stef and her roommate Shawna who is also from Canada. I had to stop and buy mosquito spray; I forgot to bring my 100% deet. Boob. The Mosquitos were having my feet and legs for dinner. Fleas last week, now mosquitos. And that stinking spray was $12!!<br /><br />I'm home for dinner by 6:30. I was famished. I hadn't eaten a thing since 9:15!! Petunia was having withdrawals. Kattia cooked two small chicken legs in a tomato sauce, white rice and flavored noodles with cilantro (eewwwww) in it. I licked my plate clean even though I hate cilantro. I ate with roommate Sarah from Minnesota. She's very sweet but loud--I think that's a northern thing. It's nice to have a friend in the house. Sarah said Kattia's cooking is lacking. I'm sad. That's the main reason I flew all this way. For realz. I want fresh fruit and fresh, white cheese, and gallo pinto with Lizano green sauce. I better get it. Speaking of food, I might've told a lie to Kattia. I told her that was allergic to all seafood. Ok. I lied, but I can't risk eating seafood. (I'm<br />Vomiting now...now it's just dry heaves.)<br /><br />It's around 8:45. I popped a Unisom to help me sleep. It's hot, humid and loud outside. I've got three fans going and my sound machine. Let's hope I don't get woken up by chickens and howler monkeys.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />-Ashe<br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=S%C3%A1mara,%20Costa%20Rica%409.881044%2C-85.526272&z=10'>Sámara, Costa Rica</a></p>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-45808811162601264812012-03-12T19:18:00.000-07:002012-03-12T19:18:03.653-07:0010 Reasons I LOVE Going Home<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WD8SYCeaQcjEcZGTI1gY_bRpvdGyPtFsnBeUqmtqqu3OY6QsAUJV9yDWN_-kYKDv1chJiiJxKQyONwMnDx3wgjRxjYGub7Y1l7oTQns72O5r0q_FVyNgDHVvZfMv9e1RiyVS6kuSq8A/s1600/road.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8WD8SYCeaQcjEcZGTI1gY_bRpvdGyPtFsnBeUqmtqqu3OY6QsAUJV9yDWN_-kYKDv1chJiiJxKQyONwMnDx3wgjRxjYGub7Y1l7oTQns72O5r0q_FVyNgDHVvZfMv9e1RiyVS6kuSq8A/s400/road.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jamison Road Sunday in the pouring rain.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><ol><li>I am always welcomed with dessert by my beautiful Momma. This time it was blueberry cobbler, and I couldn't stop eating it.</li>
<li>I get to hang my head out of the window like a dog as soon as I hit Jamison Road and smell smell SMELL. You would be amazed what smells you miss like cow poop, hay, and just trees and nature itself. Even the rain smells better on Jamison Road. And boy did it rain. Gravel roads are not something I necessarily miss however.</li>
<li>I feel a peace that I honestly don't feel anywhere else. I feel closer to God. I think it's because I'm surrounded by love and everything beautiful.</li>
<li>I get spoiled by my Daddy because he will grill me whatever my heart desires. And those who know me well know my heart desires food all the time. Daddy grilled pork chops, steaks, chicken, and shrimp (that was for him since I don't like anything that swims), but the thought was there.</li>
<li>I get to spend time with my Momma watching home videos and looking at old pictures. We laugh so much, and we stay up late like we are still young :). We felt it in church the next day, didn't we Momma? I also get to spend time with her in the kitchen which is my favorite place. Momma just loves cleaning up after me, and I love making messes for her.</li>
<li>I get to spend quality time with Daddy that I wouldn't otherwise get to do. It's not like the man is a phone talker or anything. I helped him rake leaves for a minute (literally) then we drove to get some horse poop for his garden. I wouldn't trade those moments for anything.</li>
<li>I get to bother my Granny. She loves me this I know. But I always stop there first to see if she has anything sweet to munch on as I travel the 1/4 mile down the road to my house. And I just love to go squeeze her and talk about Poppa.</li>
<li>I get to see all the rest of my family--all of my sweet babies that I miss so much. I don't get to see their "firsts" so I love to spoil them when I'm home. Jamison showed me his new John Deere boots, and Addie sat beside me in church. At least they haven't forgotten me. And of course I can't forget all the oldies either--aunts, uncles and cousins. And we can't forget my new cousins Bo and Danny. Ooh boy, I could hardly sleep Friday night because I knew I was going to get to spend the morning with these precious boys. It was so nice just to sit and relax with little Danny on my chest and a perfect view of sweet Bo sleeping peacefully. I mean really, can life get any better than new life? I also must be selfish and say that I've missed Tela being up here in Little Rock. I got spoiled being with her each day, so it was good to get to talk to her. </li>
<li>I get to eat at church potlucks. Somehow I time my arrival perfectly to coincide with these. It's so great to see the people that have influenced me as I grew up. It's good to just sit down and visit. My teacher who taught me in my 4 year old Sunday school class walked me to my car in the rain. I probably haven't really, truly spoken to her in years.</li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiddadgGYbDWz1_jLYXizOLlOM0GN-fuyeDYxpcjiWWqdcqK8zAWBFK1_qelFrJEhwfcD-QEfxeAAAhQw34LlIQ7cah8-E3vEvD659i4JH-l5FF03OccU0UcbqUJhbOpugScdFbpqf8mc/s1600/Danny+and+Me.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiddadgGYbDWz1_jLYXizOLlOM0GN-fuyeDYxpcjiWWqdcqK8zAWBFK1_qelFrJEhwfcD-QEfxeAAAhQw34LlIQ7cah8-E3vEvD659i4JH-l5FF03OccU0UcbqUJhbOpugScdFbpqf8mc/s400/Danny+and+Me.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Danny and Me</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwiY6eGCxNmD5OV2O0Fk6_HKlLrMZykLyrIRHIhtdNQcIO0jS3dC48HoqmY3FSY-OfQ4Df1ujckx0RAUq1rQsol4fsqkL-rERsfiLGp2_OMWwKugp23ccLInvbbENWPYKLiznFzjeND1Y/s1600/Bo.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/AVvXsEjwiY6eGCxNmD5OV2O0Fk6_HKlLrMZykLyrIRHIhtdNQcIO0jS3dC48HoqmY3FSY-OfQ4Df1ujckx0RAUq1rQsol4fsqkL-rERsfiLGp2_OMWwKugp23ccLInvbbENWPYKLiznFzjeND1Y/s320/Bo.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bo</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyWhl8VVjdMWR8_EEn_aHl5QVZLMqh8fX1kvx2CKNQfpaveOY3hn6dkRr95NUi-4l7kvhgyubgw5099SgxCF2mMujIT6ZXfLKaRoxo3rtgXwxAX3KYOFGCFxFv92o4a7zTgDxPuur6YI/s1600/cake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyWhl8VVjdMWR8_EEn_aHl5QVZLMqh8fX1kvx2CKNQfpaveOY3hn6dkRr95NUi-4l7kvhgyubgw5099SgxCF2mMujIT6ZXfLKaRoxo3rtgXwxAX3KYOFGCFxFv92o4a7zTgDxPuur6YI/s400/cake.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cake that I made for the potluck that Mom and I sampled too much of. Y'all. It's good. I mean. Good. The recipes at the end.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><li>As hard as leaving gets the older I get, I love going home knowing I always have a place to come back to. I never want to leave. And I do still cry each time I leave. It's that awesome. If you've never been home to Nashville with me, it's not too late. Jamison Road loves visitors!</li>
</ol><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLgKm0YaIosPVsKxJbeKsJaM7PVWFNsOTFMrZmrqbdrcGjsUjvGYAdq8rcYPbTGHP1PQ5LUxN7NhWsqkHXJEOdIyNg0a36vwQxgPMkcPUZMKwv9Qk1j-p4eRKHjj15kTd8skSd5lO_Gdg/s1600/Dad+and+Me.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLgKm0YaIosPVsKxJbeKsJaM7PVWFNsOTFMrZmrqbdrcGjsUjvGYAdq8rcYPbTGHP1PQ5LUxN7NhWsqkHXJEOdIyNg0a36vwQxgPMkcPUZMKwv9Qk1j-p4eRKHjj15kTd8skSd5lO_Gdg/s400/Dad+and+Me.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy and me<br />
<br />
<br />
<h2>Chocolate Stuffed Sticky Bundt</h2>Rhodes Chocolate Stuffed Sticky Bundt has a sweet little surprise hidden inside each delicious bite!<br />
<b>Servings:</b>12<br />
<b>Skills:</b>Beginning<br />
<b>Bake Time:</b> 35 min<br />
<b>Prep Time:</b> 20 min (not including thaw time) <br />
<h4>Ingredients</h4><span>24 Rhodes™ Dinner Rolls, thawed but still cold<br />
1 1/2 cups milk chocolate chips<br />
1/2 cup granulated sugar<br />
1 tablespoon cocoa<br />
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon<br />
1/2 cup chopped pecans or toffee bits<br />
1/2 cup butter or margarine, melted<br />
1/2 cup packed brown sugar</span><br />
<h4>Instructions</h4><div id="yui_3_2_0_1_1331604557801320"><span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1331604557801319">Cut rolls in half and flatten each half. Wrap each half around 1 teaspoon chocolate chips and completely enclose. In a bowl, mix granulated sugar, cocoa and cinnamon. Dip each roll half in sugar mixture until well coated. Place in a large sprayed <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1331604614_0">bundt pan</span>. Sprinkle any remaining sugar mixture along with pecans or toffee bits over rolls. Combine butter and brown sugar in a small bowl and microwave 30 seconds. Stir well and pour over rolls. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise until almost to the top of the pan. Remove wrap and bake at 350°F 35 minutes. Cover with foil last 10 minutes of baking. Invert immediately onto serving platter.</span></div><br />
<div align="left"><span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">MAKE THIS!! It will change your life. I mean HELLO! Anything with a stick of butter is amazing :).</span></span></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div align="left"><span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">Peace and blessings and try not to get arrested!</span></span></div><div align="left"><span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">Ashe</span></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-1196332877462265472012-02-15T19:41:00.000-08:002012-02-15T19:41:50.488-08:00Heartbreak HotelSometimes I forget just how perfect a childhood I had. Today was a day when I was flooded with those grateful memories of my wonderful, Christian parents. I'd noticed one of my most vocal students had missed the past four class periods which is unlike her. She loves Spanish; she loves me or so she tells me daily. I don't even have to say it first. She is always coming in with the daily gossip and a huge smile. Not today.<br />
<br />
She shows up for class today only to be checked out 15 minutes into class. I said, "Ok chica. What's going on?" She said she didn't want to talk about it. I said, "Well you're going to because I need to know why you've not been in my class.". We go out in the hallway. She proceeds to tell me that her mother is being charged with 3rd degree battery and assault...for beating her. DHS has removed her from her home, and she is now living with a foster family. She missed school because of the severe bruises on her body, mainly on her back making it very uncomfortable for her to sit. <br />
<br />
I was stunned. I didn't say anything for what seemed like an eternity. I then asked, "Do you want to be with your mother?" She quickly responded with a no. I hug her, but I can't let go. I'm crying at this point which I know teachers aren't supposed to do, but I didn't care. What was ironic about the situation was SHE was consoling ME. I want to just hold her and love her and let her know that she is so incredible and so strong to be able to tell someone. <br />
<br />
I continue crying as she reassures me that she is ok. She will be fine. I tell her I love her like I tell all of my students. And I truly do. They are MY kids. And it just makes me so sad that one of my kids is hurting. Y'all. I don't know. I worry so much about my kiddos. Pray that she can continue to be strong and that she can stay in school. Fostering at this age can be disastrous. Pray for her foster family, and pray for her mother. Pray for me because right I'm having images of her mother getting hit by a bus. Don't worry. She doesn't die, but it's still not a good thought to have.<br />
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<br />
-AsheAshleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-58907026674359667892012-02-13T20:28:00.000-08:002012-02-13T20:28:34.531-08:00She be so ratchetRatchet=nasty. My students think that I am not cultured enough in "today's" language, so they have decided to teach me a new word every day. And who said you stop learning? NEVER. Have you ever had one of those nights when you just think the most random things and none of those things connect? It's like, "Hey thoughts! Let's play connect the invisible dots." So I was thiinking just now about dots and that made me think about being chased by a crocodile. Very scary thought. So I googled "What to do when being chased by a crocodile" and it gave me the following information: <br />
<ul><li>Since the crocodile is surprising fast on land, run in a zigzag motion for the crocodile has little or no ability to make sudden changes of direction. </li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4UlKJ0PZSXxMWgQwuh_wjrN1-DvtULZsnwTrObmqTehZZW9y6dgrcuMLsgUFT5ce_HnG-ON0ieh_TZTxdogdfmxDOmnBcfjBoYzMumEZ6uDi1GtdYFVG6jiEbNYSfLvADyIxN6Skw54E/s1600/crocodile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4UlKJ0PZSXxMWgQwuh_wjrN1-DvtULZsnwTrObmqTehZZW9y6dgrcuMLsgUFT5ce_HnG-ON0ieh_TZTxdogdfmxDOmnBcfjBoYzMumEZ6uDi1GtdYFVG6jiEbNYSfLvADyIxN6Skw54E/s400/crocodile.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I got so tickled. First, I of all people would find myself in that predicament. Second, can you picture running in a zigzag motion? Me the girl who falls so often? Third, who thinks while being chased, "Oh wait. A crocodile has little or no ability to change direction so I'm going to run in a zigzag motion." No thank you. I shall just run. <br />
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Luckily I have yet to be chased by a crocodile. Life is so good and very busy. My students are awesome! They are so sweet even though I want to sucker punch them sometimes. They did throw me my first surprise birthday party EVER. I was so shocked and grateful. They do have such kind hearts. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTlSpaBG2I-5Pr4a02kuqIc4TIw3MNp6SLTsTueqLagM2NFo-EQW65IxNxOCDXn6HbRYLaSvHBTVl2s1rzs39E8xQvecwkVvrKkWsH6hVP7Sy-SHabVVxQ-W2pB3gGcH9VW0XqEJ5sz0/s1600/ll-cool-j.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTlSpaBG2I-5Pr4a02kuqIc4TIw3MNp6SLTsTueqLagM2NFo-EQW65IxNxOCDXn6HbRYLaSvHBTVl2s1rzs39E8xQvecwkVvrKkWsH6hVP7Sy-SHabVVxQ-W2pB3gGcH9VW0XqEJ5sz0/s400/ll-cool-j.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Speaking of kind hearts, wasn't it totally awesome that LL Cool J prayed on the Grammy's last night? What a statement that made! That did give me glimmer of hope for our world. I kind of want to send him some fanmail. I would always send JTT fanmail. I never got a response--that punk. Go sing to yourself you lion lover! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU13zjZpqmXYbuYmfrUWgBFwACxP-4K9Af-sXCImvQHFXkcbGrKtFgINqBvCukFNpGYuUM9bnWjoWdeHA1aCSS6wvMxBPJ4tAWxbd2x3JXRpF8ia19CK-EbFnbC7g11Ehi7cpieLT0A0o/s1600/JTT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU13zjZpqmXYbuYmfrUWgBFwACxP-4K9Af-sXCImvQHFXkcbGrKtFgINqBvCukFNpGYuUM9bnWjoWdeHA1aCSS6wvMxBPJ4tAWxbd2x3JXRpF8ia19CK-EbFnbC7g11Ehi7cpieLT0A0o/s400/JTT.jpg" width="292" /></a></div>I'm so tired yet I hear the ocean. I would love to be on a ship right now with Sawyer or Jack from LOST. Oh be still my beating heart! You are beating so quickly that Dr. Jack might have to do surgery, you bad heart you. I really want to go to the beach. This summer I shall go to a beach. Where? I have no earthly, but I can tell you this. I will NOT get a heat rash because I will not. That's all I know to tell you. If you've ever had a heat rash, you think you're skin is dying. <br />
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Goodnight fair friends. Dream sweet dreams. I'm going to dream about oceans and writing in Spanish with one hand and English with the other...simultaneously. Mark Twain said to "explore, dream and discover". Marky Mark...you be so smart. You so not ratchet.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-85718449053148199352012-01-08T15:01:00.000-08:002012-01-08T15:01:55.940-08:00My "How To" for the dayI'll be 28 in a few weeks. I'm not one of those people that will cry and get really upset when people don't tell me happy birthday. I mean, yes. It's nice and makes me feel happy when my birthday is acknowledged. I admit it. But I'm not going to go stab your picture if you forget. I just love any reason to eat, have a party and just hang out. So this leads me to the "How To" of today. Today's "How To" is...how to throw yourself a surprise party!! Whoopee!<br />
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So I've thrown this idea around in my mind...ya know. Would people think it was weird if I, me, Ashley, sent out invitations to my own surprise birthday party. I mean, really, how awkward would that be for them. I'm awkward anyway, and I can handle myself. But others sometimes don't know how to react. "Hey, I just got an invitation to Ashley's birthday party. <em>She</em> invited us to her own birthday party. And it's a <em>surprise</em>. I'm so confused." As will most people be. We are celebrating the moment when I was pushed out of my mother. How much more awkward can you get? <br />
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The reasons why I will throw myself a surprise party:<br />
<ol><li>It's a totally fantastic idea that no one in the history of birthdays has ever pulled off. I mean, I've never met every person that was ever born. Could you imagine? I would be asking SO many questions like...what was it like wearing a corset AND pantiloons? Did your toga ever accidently fall off? Did you ever help build a cathedral or almost die of the black plague? See? So many questions so it's probably best that I've never met everyone, though maybe there was someone who had my same idea. </li>
<li>People would marvel at my wonderful acting skills when I fake my surprise face or marvel at my ability to outwit myself. </li>
<li>I get to choose what's on the menu.</li>
<li>I get to invite whoever I want.</li>
<li>I can make it a theme party because dressing up is one of my most favorite things to do.</li>
</ol>So, how do I go about doing this? This is where I get the opportunity to outwit myself. I have no idea how to surprise myself. Any thoughts? <br />
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Moving on to my 2012 trip to who knows where. I think my friend Anna is going to come with me for a full week. She's up for whatever. We are for sure going to Paris, and I would like to go to Portugal again. I really miss the pastries, and I want steak, and the hostel was so much fun, and I want a painting from these Russian peeps, and I want to go to Sintra the fairytale land. So yes, I am repeating a country but who cares. Paris will be fun with a girlfriend instead of solo. There are just some places where it would be kind of lonely going by yourself. Like Barcelona was last year. So I do hope Anna can come with me!! And let's hope I save enough money. <br />
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To end this post, I shall share my favorite thing: TRIVIA. I love facts that make me think or laugh. Did you know...that a cat will clean itself with paws and tongue after a dangerous experience or when it has fought with another cat? This is believed to be an attempt by the animal to soothe its nerves by doing something natural and instinctive. I feel that humans do that as well except we use a loofa and body wash. Agree?<br />
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Go cleanse yourself, listen to Irish music, and get ready for my surprise birthday party!!!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-34565278696359772682011-12-06T21:08:00.000-08:002011-12-06T21:08:29.432-08:00Sad day in Spanish 3rd EvenOne of my favorite students left me. Yep up and left me to move to where? LOUISIANA. I'm trying not to be a hater but an appreciater, but it's not working at the moment. Carlos was the type of student who was always suspended, but somehow we connected. He had a B in my class which was probably the only B he's ever had. He truly was my favorite and the other students knew it. But it was different with him. I caught him cheating twice. He flat out was staring at another student's test. I'm like, "Dude! Hello...I see you. Fail with dignity." Then Carlos said, "Well I would if I knew what it was!" <br />
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That's when we bonded. He was spunky and could put up with my sarcastic comments because he knew I loved him. I love all of my students, but I have a yearning for Carlos to succeed more so than some of my others. I have faith that many of my kids will get into colleges and have successful jobs, but some of them like Carlos need the assurance from parents and teachers. I'm not sure he was getting that at home or at school.<br />
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I'm typing this, boo hooing (and listening to Irish music), and I think it's because I'm scared for him. I want him to be in my environment because I know that I would smother him with encouragement. I hope to goodness he gets it because he wants to do well. Why do the good ones always get plucked from me?? Tell me why baby why baby why baby why? I mean ya'll. Who's going to tell me that I sing "brutaful"? Bless that child. Pray for him that he will grow wherever in Louisiana they move. I've never been more attached to a class in such emotional ways. They are so special to me. Maybe this Irish music is making me extra weepy. You know...I love Irish music. I L.O.V.E. "Danny Boy". Classic Irish song for me...an Irish American :)Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-15871934958097000912011-12-05T21:07:00.000-08:002011-12-05T21:07:22.682-08:00Irish music and nuns are my interest right nowSo I've always thought I was born into the wrong family. Don't get me wrong. I love my family...but I just wished they played the tin whistle and picked wildflowers in the meadow. Ya know? So I've always had an Irish fetish--music, movies, bands. Even my penpal, Donna Jean Dempsey, was from Dublin. We wrote for 8 years until college became too important for overseas friends. So as I sit here listening to Irish music and dreaming of green rolling hills and sheep and the island of Roan Inish, I have decided Ireland will be my next overseas venture. I shall see the family that really isn't mine, and I will talk to them using the few Irish Gaelic words I know. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN2csz8t9VM0DjV1e1fXutLoru1DM7nhdve14_EwiVI40rN59U7M9b3mxipSAEcZXegfNvbS-yXcUNLOTObgoqGatMbTJF6DS5AmaAQBOFp7R0X46gsrQHwIrK-zYl_10usdiHQAVzJew/s1600/inish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN2csz8t9VM0DjV1e1fXutLoru1DM7nhdve14_EwiVI40rN59U7M9b3mxipSAEcZXegfNvbS-yXcUNLOTObgoqGatMbTJF6DS5AmaAQBOFp7R0X46gsrQHwIrK-zYl_10usdiHQAVzJew/s400/inish.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I'm supposed to making a test out right now, but that's not going so well. I have big dreams of reading books over Christmas. I can't wait! My library is saying, "Read me you fool! You've been away tooooo long." Fear not, fair lass...I'm coming. So I was thinking the other day, "Wouldn't I be 10 times cooler if I could speak French?" My mind said, "Yes, your cool factor would boost and more people would stare at you strangely whilst you make fake telephone calls in French." So I decided, then and there, to learn French...wait for it...through song. YES! That's right. I got XM radio free over Thanksgiving weekend and the song, "Dominique" came on by the singing nun. It was a smashing hit in 1963. I downloaded it on ITunes and my French lessons started promptly. I love nuns. She's awesome. I felt like we would've been friends. Ya know on the swim team playing Marco Polo. She'd let me find her and win. That kind of nice, help you self-esteem friend.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwdWPx8xeVIcsrZKgOB3z3P5_Ag4BiNG5uK_PiBFli_OKR4srkYENuvKzsiX1drQ4JA1KdvTbYSDFCdNSkK2dXQcgZhO0SnVMvkc8BgE-Kt6l4-nyJkWpjoBeQHW9dQYlXJzT_WEvvCJM/s1600/nun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwdWPx8xeVIcsrZKgOB3z3P5_Ag4BiNG5uK_PiBFli_OKR4srkYENuvKzsiX1drQ4JA1KdvTbYSDFCdNSkK2dXQcgZhO0SnVMvkc8BgE-Kt6l4-nyJkWpjoBeQHW9dQYlXJzT_WEvvCJM/s400/nun.jpg" width="385" /></a></div><br />
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I love me some Irish music. I've been planning out my wedding music for my wedding that will never happen. It's going to quite fabulous. I wish you were going to get to hear it.<br />
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A little family update: Tela is still pregnant! She'll be 33 weeks on Wednesday. She is still at Baptist in Little Rock. She's as cute as can be. No bigger than an ant hill, but we'll take what we can get. Those boys are feisty. I can't wait to meet them! As always, thank you so much for your continued prayers for Tela, Russell, and the twins as well as for the Jamison family. Thanksgiving wasn't the same without Poppa. I'm so thankful for my huge family to lean on. People say they don't think they could live that close to family. Well let me tell you something--you haven't been around mine. I couldn't live without them. It's times like these when those extra shoulders are needed. <br />
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Love love love ya'll! Peace and blessings!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-69853737265458523352011-11-08T21:05:00.000-08:002011-11-08T21:11:34.647-08:00Flashback to freshman yearFreshman year of college that is. With the whole booger picking/eating incident in my class yesterday, my memories began to flow--the memories about my freshman year suitemate. I have two words for you: pot luck. That should tell you everything you need to know about her. We didn't choose her AT ALL. Now let me set the record straight and say that Lindsey and I loved April, our other suitemate. She happened to go pot luck too. And well, let's just say it wasn't good for any of the parties involved. <br />
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This poor girl. Now don't start thinking that we bullied her. We didn't. We <em>might</em> have laughed at her on occasion, but please don't hold that against us. She was a special girl; she was addicted to the television. I mean that literally. She would go into a trance and wouldn't even blink her eyes. Lindsey and I would find her in our room when we'd walk in from class, crouched down watching the tv. We called our parents and complained, but no. They didn't believe us. She loved cafeteria take out. She loved it so much she would leave her take-out boxes in the room for several days causing a mighty stench and flies to circle around. I remember April bought fans and clipped dryer sheets to them to help combat the smell.<br />
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We dealt with all of this for months until finally we put a stop to it. Our parents still didn't believe we were living with a smelly tv addict. So we took matters into our own hands...or maybe I should say into our own camcorder. With this tv addiction came the trances. She would't know if there was a tornado outside because she's be so enthralled in the tv. So we decided to record her for our parents. We sat the camcorder directly on top of the tv and positioned it to where she always stood. She came in after a three hour conversation with her grandmother (in which she spoke in the third person about herself), and the trance began. She stayed for about 10 or so minutes then left. Mind you, this was around 2 in the morning. Lindsey and I watch the video and low and behold we see our suitemate pick her nose and eat her boogers not once but TWICE! She then proceeded to clean out her fingernails...with her teeth. <br />
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Grotesque. I know. I lived with that. But don't worry fair friends. When our parents saw the video, they realized we were living in a poor hygienic state. We found a new roommate for this poor girl, and we then became a suite of three. Then we all lived happily ever after. <br />
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And did I mention that on the second day of school when I was still terribly homesick she used my brand new washcloth that I'd received for graduation to wipe her fecal matter?Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-81423753287856856502011-11-06T19:22:00.000-08:002011-11-06T19:22:27.051-08:00I'm back if only for a brief spell<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/AVvXsEgNouaLqbQRB297bhd_NM8DruCLevJdrpSYzZsSUzTqTjXJBhkfWkRQb2tx2XBQR56G3rsdiFlLbyUOMs2PnI98lYoe9_ItKBooBK-MqgeCqRbIp_kvsdUjHMm4F8iGSJYIlyekAntv3kk/s1600/july+and+august+207.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNouaLqbQRB297bhd_NM8DruCLevJdrpSYzZsSUzTqTjXJBhkfWkRQb2tx2XBQR56G3rsdiFlLbyUOMs2PnI98lYoe9_ItKBooBK-MqgeCqRbIp_kvsdUjHMm4F8iGSJYIlyekAntv3kk/s400/july+and+august+207.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poppa, Granny, and me 2009</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Stress is so underrated. My blood pressure is surprisingly low (102/60) for the month that I and my family have experienced. I know all families experience death and babies wanting to come out too soon, but it feels like we are going through this all by ourselves. October 13th we lost Poppa. I won't write a lot about that because it won't do him justice. I think he took one of my arteries with him because my heart is constantly hurting. It's times like these that make me want to move back to Jamison Road. I just want to be close to family...all of my family. And then my cousin Tela wanted to spice things up even more. Her twin boys are wanting to come out to play, but they are only 28 weeks. I'm going to be selfish and say that I am secretly glad she's here. I've missed her terribly, and we've gotten to spend lots of quality time together. For that I'm thankful. Now if we can just continue to keep those little toots in there! <br />
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Sometimes I wish I was on the TV show "Glee" so I could express myself in song without looking like a looney. I mean, I do express myself in song but with a price. My go-to girl has been Belgium singer/songwriter Agnes Obel. She's PHENOMENAL. I want her voice and her Princess Leia hairdo. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1pbN7pfvzi1cddj0GeoaCmeYmzpRoSDOuOi7E99o59HRZXpTq-vuhWIE9cw4MVIJBbpX5h20opY8wW70ta6w2bFECsXq_lAsGPi5brUpUK0Jlu6CKxk5daZtwvQlGtjRpqCUuBQxeVzU/s1600/agnes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1pbN7pfvzi1cddj0GeoaCmeYmzpRoSDOuOi7E99o59HRZXpTq-vuhWIE9cw4MVIJBbpX5h20opY8wW70ta6w2bFECsXq_lAsGPi5brUpUK0Jlu6CKxk5daZtwvQlGtjRpqCUuBQxeVzU/s400/agnes.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Agnes Obel and Harry Potter's owl, Hedwig (with a dye job). </td></tr>
</tbody></table>I've read a couple of books. One was about a dog. I wanted to vomit because dogs are not on the top of my "I really love" list, but I pulled through. <em>The Art of Racing in the Rain</em> by Garth Stein is about life through a dog's life. It was pretty good--a very easy read. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL5RgDwqHGTtRmbpqofj0q9jP1ryrluVA4AsYyz8XQI_BsCcyR2qSHy7U7gO_qnYLCKUgcXl_WUkMVvcX6Wzuf3jMeIOK4PvX5yeB1fuYLHM5Y1_oAIF0Vts8YVxoH4NlpHzQog-Ai6pc/s1600/dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL5RgDwqHGTtRmbpqofj0q9jP1ryrluVA4AsYyz8XQI_BsCcyR2qSHy7U7gO_qnYLCKUgcXl_WUkMVvcX6Wzuf3jMeIOK4PvX5yeB1fuYLHM5Y1_oAIF0Vts8YVxoH4NlpHzQog-Ai6pc/s400/dog.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhKGrF1l-oBIvchoXyRsVxazqdn6x_RxLlTkxNVJyR785kWHrEYRDG5aVMRo4s_S01DEZZGr52Iu3DG5tfkOrj1rCmddODi5sc2jeNLV3GnFfQ43rh0NcPPEKzqar8CXct1FuyT2z8E8/s1600/Midnight_in_the_Garden_of_Good_and_Evil_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhKGrF1l-oBIvchoXyRsVxazqdn6x_RxLlTkxNVJyR785kWHrEYRDG5aVMRo4s_S01DEZZGr52Iu3DG5tfkOrj1rCmddODi5sc2jeNLV3GnFfQ43rh0NcPPEKzqar8CXct1FuyT2z8E8/s400/Midnight_in_the_Garden_of_Good_and_Evil_cover.jpg" width="261" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then there was <em>Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil </em>by John Berendt. Ooh child, I LOVED this one! It's non-fiction but reads like a fiction. Berendt really draws you into each character and develops each perfectly. Now I need to watch the movie. I've become so enthralled in Jim Williams and the murder that I've done my own personal research project. I know...I'm quite the intellectual. It also makes me want to go to a cemetery. I used to do that in college. One of my favorites was off Moore Street in Searcy. It was so old and had so much history. I loved reading the epitaphs. It's just weird to think that I'm reading about an actual person that may have done exactly what I was doing at that moment--discovering a person.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><em></em></div>School is fantastic. My kids are gifts to me. I cannot thank the Lord enough for giving them to me. No more nausea all day every day.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-77587599115573428282011-09-22T18:54:00.000-07:002011-09-22T18:54:02.511-07:00Seven years ago today<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Wednesday, September 22, 2004</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"This is my first journal entry in my first diary ever! Yay! Audra and I ate at Mi Pueblito before Hart church. We asked the nice Backyard Burger man, Phil, to church. He didn't come but gave us his number so we cold call him next week. But we won't. We heard he exposed himself to some girls (supposedly) so I'll just not ask him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After church, Audra and I went for a walk. Right in front of Harding Academy, we saw a naked man. Penis and all. He was standing by a tree. He was just standing there silent, not even moving. We couldn't see his face because he was standing where his face was in the shadows. After we realized what was happening, ya know, that a naked man and his parts were standing there, we ran to the nearest apartments and yelled for help. I've never out run Audra in all my life, but I sure did tonight. We turned around and saw the naked man streaking across the street, get in an unlicensed silver car and peeled out. We reported it to Harding security, Dean Huckeba and the Searcy Police (they laughed in our faces). Now isn't that the weirdest story ever?!"</span><br />
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Anyone remember that story?Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-34357275371121067072011-09-21T19:47:00.000-07:002011-09-21T19:47:34.873-07:00Things on my mind at the EXACT moment in time<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>I’ve eaten so badly this week. And I wonder why I can’t fit into my pants. I have no idea how chocolate sauce just magically appears in the bowl in my hand. No idea. The banana <em>under</em> the chocolate sauce counteracts the butter, sugar, and (get ready for it) <strike>skim milk</strike> heavy whipping cream. Whoa Sally. Whoa donut ring on my belly. How in the world did you get there?</span></div><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>How I wish it would be light outside at 5:45 in the morning so I could go running. I did it for two weeks, but I have now stopped for two reasons. The first is my paranoia that someone will attack me because it’s dark and no one will know because I’m all by my lonesome. I wonder where that fear came from… The second is I am clumsy and sometimes trip. A girl in my book club fell running and fractured her elbow. I can just imagine myself walking back home, crying, with a bone hanging out of my arm.</span></div><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>The dream I had last night that my gap in my front teeth had returned. What a nightmare. </span></div><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>If I practiced Jainism, it would be kind of acceptable to walk around completely naked. Hhhhmmmm……………</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">5. It's strange that I suddenly appeared on a new television series last night. I suddenly got popular today and received texts from everyone about how the girl on the new show "New Girl" is <strong>just like you. In fact, she is you.</strong> No lie. So I watched it. And...I laughed. And...it's true. It felt like an out-of-body experience, except that I was in my body watching another body. Ya know? </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Those are my thoughts. Sometimes folks, there are times when I think more than one thing. That's called mulitasking. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span></div>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-73541739621502182732011-08-18T19:05:00.000-07:002011-08-18T19:05:36.146-07:00Summer readsSo here's what I read over the summer:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijJuWisDvclbrEn552AWnXz7nXbcSncnKr4QZ3Z-AKBDrSzBes2MqWa2S0vZb0H8s71OXuiBVJlhIa6n7xsAn_sm-ZkHzXVCjc5KNsYIB62_SZWFAC5ebLnV8FYjGRJqPaqIqQCNU0OBQ/s1600/little+bee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijJuWisDvclbrEn552AWnXz7nXbcSncnKr4QZ3Z-AKBDrSzBes2MqWa2S0vZb0H8s71OXuiBVJlhIa6n7xsAn_sm-ZkHzXVCjc5KNsYIB62_SZWFAC5ebLnV8FYjGRJqPaqIqQCNU0OBQ/s400/little+bee.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><em>Little </em>Bee by Chris Cleave is AMAZING! This really opened my eyes to the problems in Africa. Yes, I know there are problems, but this book really sheds light on those situations there. It is very graphic in sections so prepare yourself for that. But hey...it's real and that's why you should read it. Read more about this book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Little-Bee-Novel-Chris-Cleave/dp/1416589643/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1313718137&sr=8-1#_">here.</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKH49m1v3abvilplXmPCBLf-ZJ-rKv2HvMZqFqtDuda2vVSqMJ_BFwihvxiMXvmBN3Do1VV7FuFBgtIQZwMBG-xSeMsxXUHdH8WyXSaujgpEoIShvSVQB_d54gOSejousUK9Hca8Tz2_4/s1600/JoyLuckClu_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKH49m1v3abvilplXmPCBLf-ZJ-rKv2HvMZqFqtDuda2vVSqMJ_BFwihvxiMXvmBN3Do1VV7FuFBgtIQZwMBG-xSeMsxXUHdH8WyXSaujgpEoIShvSVQB_d54gOSejousUK9Hca8Tz2_4/s400/JoyLuckClu_0.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: yellow;">I just found out there was a movie made from this book. Good to know. I read this while in Europe, and it took me a while...because I was in Europe. Who wants to read? It is an extremely quick read though and quite interesting. I learned so much about the Chinese culture. Read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Joy-Luck-Club-Amy-Tan/dp/0143038095/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1313718739&sr=1-1">here</a> for more info.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcYZmPjfancBMgbnYpYC7xqsLxbqWC0HsZ0yWaMwZh0s8gqdpx7hJ7KKyvWqx5BqkE_uOWIRuMjFA_iibc-r95ArdvOT_fHvuvS24soZRcnll-RCKYHgcOkEoodJH3Rq3hOJuIDV02wI/s1600/loving+frank.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcYZmPjfancBMgbnYpYC7xqsLxbqWC0HsZ0yWaMwZh0s8gqdpx7hJ7KKyvWqx5BqkE_uOWIRuMjFA_iibc-r95ArdvOT_fHvuvS24soZRcnll-RCKYHgcOkEoodJH3Rq3hOJuIDV02wI/s400/loving+frank.gif" width="258" /></a></div>To be honest, I was not looking forward to reading this book for book club. I get the audio book from the library and was blown away. I thought this was a great piece of literature. And ya'll, I'm going to confess my ignorance--I thought Frank Lloyd Wright was one of the Wright brothers that invented airplanes. WRONG. He was an architect. Who knew...Anyway, this book tells of the love affair between Frank and Mamah. It was such a scandal in the early 1900s. If I'm being Frank with you (no pun intended), it would even be a huge scandal now. I loved picturing myself back then and reading about this in the papers. And the end was totally unexpected. Please don't read it first whatever you do. Read more about this book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Loving-Frank-Novel-Nancy-Horan/dp/0345495004/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1313718848&sr=1-1">here.</a><br />
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If I had to choose a favorite, it was be this book. It's like reading the script of <em>Gossip </em>Girl--so deliciously good! It is about a prep school, but I recommend it for any age. It's a quick read because you can't put it down. Read more <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Prep-Novel-Curtis-Sittenfeld/dp/081297235X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1313719207&sr=1-1">here. </a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div>Ok, so I didn't read as many books as I wanted. I have a great excuse though: globtrotting :). Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-58797347102888577012011-08-16T19:58:00.000-07:002011-08-17T05:31:34.457-07:00Confliction and a revelationSo, the first two days of school have come and gone, and the tears have been flowing. But they are not for reasons you think. I have such a fantastic group of kids and for that I count my blessings. This has been weighing heavy on me since school started yesterday. Sometimes students come in with the big head, and I can already tell what kind of students they are going to be. A girl came in with an attitude; played the right way we might get along. It was still too early to tell. We are going through the syllabus, I see some students getting sleepy so I begin to call on random students to read from the syllabus. I call on this one girl, the one with the 'tude, and she looked at me quizzically. I thought she wasn't paying attention so I directed her to the appropriate bullet on the syllabus. She reads the sentence, and we move on. A few minutes later, she raises her hand and asks, "Can I talk to you outside?" I said, "Sure thing. Is it something that needs to be discussed at this moment?" She said, "No, it can wait." She is very participatory in class and outspoken. Maybe I was wrong about her; maybe we will get along. <br /><br />The bell rings. She is walking out so I yell to her to come back. I asked her what she needed to speak to me about, and she said (looking down to the floor), "Will you not call on me to read in class?" I asked why and she said, "The other kids make fun of me because I can't say some of the words." So I asked if she stuttered and then went on to explain that I used to stutter as well. She said, "No, I have trouble reading." I said that I would talk to the literacy coach. My first impression was shock. For a tenth grade girl to have willingly admitted that was beyond my comprehension because most girls at that age are embarrassed just to be wearing a shirt from Wal-Mart. My second thought was that she was lying to me to get out of reading in class. I can't help that thought. After teaching the juniors and seniors last year, they lied to me left and right about everything. It's sad I can't trust my students. <br /><br />I thought about that all last night, and I decided to talk to the literacy coach today. We checked her literacy and benchmark scores. She was reading on a 4th grade reading level and tested below basic in literacy on the benchmark. My heart dropped. The literacy coach goes on to tell me that she is one of the <u>hardest</u> workers and strives to do well. She has, in fact, improved throughout the years. She is still on a 4th grade reading level however. It's no wonder she gave me a funny look when I asked her to read. That was at 10:30 this morning. I thought about her ALL DAY LONG. Yes, there are many students that can't read well and that read on extremely low levels, but something about this girl's brutal honesty hit <em>hard. </em>I got home and just sobbed. This is a situation where I feel so helpless. I want to help this sweet girl, but I have no idea how. How am I to teach her Spanish when it's difficult for her to learn her native language? And think of the guts she has to come and talk to me about that. I cried for her today. I have cried to my neighbor about it, and I have talked to God about it. Prayer sends clarity, but sometimes it's not right away. <br /><br />I think about her and wonder if her other classes are a safe haven for her<em>. </em>Students can be so cruel. <em> </em>I want to hug her and protect her and tell her, "Yes, you can do it!" And I will because that's all I know to do. I will create that safe place for her. I will worry about her and her success. It just hurts me because she works so hard. She asks for help and <em>wants</em> to learn. That's where I'm having the biggest issue. I'm so blessed, and I am thankful yet it has ruined my perception. I didn't have trouble in school. I had parents who read to me. I have such confliction inside of me, and I am torn up. Pray that I have clarity on how to help this willing girl, and pray that she and other students in her same predicament succeed. Even if success is just reading that one challenging sentence, pray that they have that success. <br /><br />It's these moments in my career that I realize that this is what I am supposed to do forever. And I had the revelation today that I am meant to be in public school. Students like her keep me humble and allow me to remember everything I have. I can read. What a gift in itself. They have NO idea they help me in life. No idea. Remember to think about these precious souls, even the ones who drive us crazy, as you are reading your magazine or book tomorrow. Be thankful.<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-2674377083471041502011-08-06T06:02:00.001-07:002011-08-06T06:04:04.664-07:00Happy thoughtsToday marks the one year anniversary of PawPaw's death. I think about PawPaw all the time, and today will be another day devoted to thoughts of him--how influencing he was as a Christian and how he changed so many lives through ways of adoption. I will remember his contagious laugh and the twinkle in his eye. I will remember times like this: I went to visit Grandmother and PawPaw in June before he died. I made them two loaves of strawberry bread so they would have something to eat on for a while. He was eating the strawberry bread and said, "I like zucchini bread better." I looked at him with a "Well don't be honest or anything" look and we both just broke out in laughter. I saw it--that twinkle. And I heard that laugh. Doesn't that make you happy? I think about that time often, and I think about how good I had it. <br /><br />We all have people we love and miss. Think of a happy memory today.<br /><br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br /><br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-85612415735884030022011-08-01T17:28:00.000-07:002011-08-01T17:28:32.075-07:00Chocolate Gravy recipe<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">For those who have asked, here you go. Enjoy and let me know how it turns out for you!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In a skillet or large saucepan, mix: </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">1/2 cup butter, melted </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">4 tbsp flour</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">4 tbsp cocoa</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Add: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">1 cup sugar</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2 cups milk</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">1 tsp vanilla</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Cook on medium heat until thick, stirring often. I serve mine with homemade biscuits, but I'm sure it would be good as a croissant filling or on a scone. It makes a lot but is excellent reheated!</span>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-264257865403860362011-08-01T17:18:00.000-07:002011-08-01T17:18:30.481-07:00Southern women are different. That's a fact.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEH-RFGU4_1WcXsI7N3-lu50TrntQAn5wIIusIQWvTqB_i-Oq_g5q-fqMdevZAqDLcQg4Z-Nm1QI3iy__I5dLDz1ljPLfdfD9a1YM6rUENSAEQQ75N07RFMbr00jV3KAV6PLMhfd_juSI/s1600/gardenandgun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEH-RFGU4_1WcXsI7N3-lu50TrntQAn5wIIusIQWvTqB_i-Oq_g5q-fqMdevZAqDLcQg4Z-Nm1QI3iy__I5dLDz1ljPLfdfD9a1YM6rUENSAEQQ75N07RFMbr00jV3KAV6PLMhfd_juSI/s400/gardenandgun.jpg" width="330" /></a></div><br />
My friend, Caroline, introduced me to a magazine called <em>Gardens and Gun</em>. She said there was an article in there that reminded her a lot of me, and she insisted I read it. So I did, and I will say there were parts of it that definitely screamed "Ashley!". You know, until you go out of the south, you don't realize how blessed southern women are. We have it all--beauty (I'm not trying to sound vain), hospitality, ability to cook, and respect for ourselves and others. The list could go on and on. Here is an excerpt from the article that really hit home:<br />
<br />
"To be made a Southern woman is to be made aware of your distinctiveness. The expectations. Which is why even the girls in the trailer parks paint their nails. And why you will never see Reese Witherspoon wearing sweatpants. Being Southern means handwritten thank-you notes, using a rhino horn's worth of salt in every recipe, and never leaving the house with wet hair. Not even in the case of fire. Because wet hair is low-rent. It shows you don't care, and not caring is not something Southern women do, at least when it comes to our hair. This is less about vanity than <strong>self-respect, </strong>a crucial distinction often lost on non-southerners. Side note: Southern women do not capitalize on their looks to snag men, though that often results. The reason we Southern women take care of ourselves is because, simply, Southern women are caretakers.<br />
An example: I have lived in the North for 15 years. In all that time, only once did another woman prepare me a home-cooked meal (and she was from Florida). I recently visited Tennessee for one week and was fed by no fewer than three women. Southern women are willing to give and listen. Southern women are also a proud lot. In any setting, at home or abroad, Southern women declare themselves [Well, you know what they say about us Arkansas girls...]. <br />
Southern women know how to bake a funeral casserole and why you should. Southern women know how to make other women feel pretty. Southern women like men and <span style="color: magenta;">allow them to stay men</span>. Southern women know that manners count and that your mother deserves a phone call every Sunday. <span style="color: purple;">Southern women can say more with a cut of their eyes than a whole debate club's worth of speeches.</span> Which brings us to what can only be called: the Baby Thing. Southern women love babies. We love them so much we grab their chubby thighs and pretend to eat them alive. This is not the case in the North or the West or the middle bit. I grew up, like all Southern girls, babysitting as soon as I was old enough to tie my own shoes. I was raised to understand that taking care of children was as natural and inevitable as sneezing. I was also taught that your children are not supposed to be your best friends. Southern women do not spend a lick of time worrying about whether or not their kids are mad at them, which might explain why there are rarely any Southern kids acting a fool and running wild around the Cracker Barrel. <br />
<span style="background-color: magenta;">I want my children to know how to make biscuits. And to not feel bad about eating a whole heaping plate of them. </span><span style="background-color: white;">"</span><br />
<br />
You're asking, "Wow Ashtray! Did you type out the <em>entire</em> article?" No, I didn't. But I encourage you to go get this magazine. It makes me proud to say I am a pure-bred Southern woman. <br />
<br />
So it looks like I'm headed to NYC on Wednesday!! My friend Jillian is apartment sitting in Manhattan and her mother very graciously paid for my ticket with her airline miles. Can you believe how blessed I am? I don't want to stop traveling, but...I have a job. I'm flying to Dallas tomorrow night, staying with Jillian's mom, and flying out to NYC Wednesday morning. I CAN'T wait!!!! I've been packed for two days...literally. <br />
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Another bit of good news is that I'll be at east campus full-time this year AND I get my own classroom! I can't wait to finally feel settled somewhere. I'll have a busy week of preparation when I return from NYC. I hope you all have been as blessed as I have been this summer. Please continue to pray for Aunt Tricia. Even rockstars like her need prayers :). <br />
<br />
Peace and Blessings!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-15516119956257858852011-07-28T08:55:00.000-07:002011-07-28T08:55:10.331-07:0030 by 30Let's see how I've done the past 6 months!!<ol><li><span style="color: black;"> snow ski (I'm terrifed of dying)</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">Go to Hawaii</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">ride in a helicopter</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;"><strike>go to a nude beach</strike></span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">parasail in the ocean</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">run a 5K</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">serve in a food kitchen</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">do a Bible study in a prison</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">Buy a tahoe</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">pay off student loans</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;"><strike>backpack through Europe</strike></span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">lose three inches off entire body</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">play a song on the guitar (at least one but no wishful thinking)</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">fly fish</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">shoot and clean a deer</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">dive off a diving board without holding my nose</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">watch the mini series <em>Pillars of the Earth</em> and <em>The Tudors</em></span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">Date outside of type (someone with a tattoo or piercing)</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">Get a Macbook</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">Drive a really expensive car (one that turns heads) Note I didn't say own. I will probably have to rent it.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;"><strike>Study at a language school in Spain</strike></span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">body wrap</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">see Dave Barnes, Matt Nathanson, Ingrid Michaelson, Joshua Radin, Amos Lee, and/or Ben Harper live in concert</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;"><strike>stay in a hostel</strike></span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">ride in a hotair balloon</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">play tennis (on the most basic level--that means having contact between racquet and ball which might be impossible for me)</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">go to California</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">go to Jackson Hole, WY</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">go to a dude ranch</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;">rock climb </span></li>
</ol>I've knocked a few off the list!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-54392951791248516972011-07-26T10:30:00.000-07:002011-07-26T10:30:29.806-07:00Aunt Tricia updateMy aunt got the results back from her PET scan today. The lymph nodes did show up as positive on the PET. However, they are too small to biopsy, and the doctor won't do anything without a biopsy. He wants her to come back in five weeks for another scan. Both breast and pancreatic tumor markers are normal. Dr. Tauer suspects it to be breast cancer that has become resistant to the herceptin, the drug she is taking for breast cancer. He is encouraged by the normal tumor markers though, and he said it could be something benign. Please keep praying for her! You can follow Callie's (my cousin) blog <a href="http://mostlysweet.blogspot.com/">here.</a>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-5078498533804651512011-07-25T08:32:00.000-07:002011-07-25T08:38:07.896-07:00Millions of peaches, peaches for meRemember that song by the band The Presidents of the United States of America called "Peaches"? Well, that was the theme song this weekend. I took five girls home to Nashville to put up peaches. It was a busy but very entertaining weekend. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ3ajjF3a8lEu2FUoIRkaVh6dyqSfQfGMqFhiBofwvJ-2S-9DD0ySKoobT633yuOHcsb6RlgDi1fitksfJjtL-bMTDtdocVJ4jDAsBWkb-czuvpkHu6fo2dKpA0GkrcJ_nC1xlOPxVPRk/s1600/dallas+and+peach+weekend+412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ3ajjF3a8lEu2FUoIRkaVh6dyqSfQfGMqFhiBofwvJ-2S-9DD0ySKoobT633yuOHcsb6RlgDi1fitksfJjtL-bMTDtdocVJ4jDAsBWkb-czuvpkHu6fo2dKpA0GkrcJ_nC1xlOPxVPRk/s400/dallas+and+peach+weekend+412.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We canned 45 jars and put up some to freeze. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>We got there Friday around 3:15, and then hopped back into the car to go see my cousin Tela's house in Saratoga. The house looks amazing! I can't wait to see it finished. Tela and Russell are expecting twins in January so that makes it way more exciting! Then we went back home and started supper. I cooked fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fried okra (from Dad's garden), cream corn (from Poppa's garden), and we did a salad. It was greasy and good! Mom made mocha cheesecake for dessert, so we devoured some of that. Then it was bedtime. <br />
<br />
Of course I didn't sleep a wink. I just don't sleep well with people, AND if there is a sound (the fan making noise) I follow it the whole night. Needless to say, I was pooped before the day even started. For breakfast, we had homemade cinnamon rolls with cream cheese icing and fresh fruit (that's the healthy part!). Then the fun began! We peeled, chopped and cooked those peaches up! I was more of the teacher this year, and I coached from the side. They all made beautiful preserves. We got seven jars each. Not bad at all. <br />
<br />
For an afternoon break, Dad took us all to the Coke plant to see the museum. I hadn't even been yet, so I was excited. It was so cool to see 100 years of memorabilia, some of it I hadn't seen before. There was an actual Model T Ford that we had to snap a picture in. We also posed on the forklift and in an empty semi truck. We could be the new Coca Cola spokesmodels. I can't wait to sign my contract. Granny and Poppa came over for supper. Dad grilled chicken, I made squash medley, and a Greek salad. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Model T Ford</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAs_Rb6nks_bUdaMvpwEosybg-f1EsGr-qgqEUZ3iKFqfAMUsEYc1D_iuVOxR7iF5tS4B6Sw5YgJwxDTZHAG1XDhxT-9OxP8G5S9qpoZEmciW-dxD4gq_SLxVd_9gZWETflqASvjxjDk/s1600/dallas+and+peach+weekend+409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAs_Rb6nks_bUdaMvpwEosybg-f1EsGr-qgqEUZ3iKFqfAMUsEYc1D_iuVOxR7iF5tS4B6Sw5YgJwxDTZHAG1XDhxT-9OxP8G5S9qpoZEmciW-dxD4gq_SLxVd_9gZWETflqASvjxjDk/s400/dallas+and+peach+weekend+409.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little pose in an empty Coke truck.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgELDg7_j9eiPk1GlQgB8GD15ScLzULaO6pltuztZD1ERSXVaNmPMIgkCDq9gEiZiyurthqD9VhSnNBO3ldFbB4lPT2rnclfz2DRN1iw1wkoVsIud5VQ13J2hDaRbY8XdVSVwcVO58iftk/s1600/dallas+and+peach+weekend+410.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgELDg7_j9eiPk1GlQgB8GD15ScLzULaO6pltuztZD1ERSXVaNmPMIgkCDq9gEiZiyurthqD9VhSnNBO3ldFbB4lPT2rnclfz2DRN1iw1wkoVsIud5VQ13J2hDaRbY8XdVSVwcVO58iftk/s400/dallas+and+peach+weekend+410.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Then the real cooking began. I made peach fried pies with the help of Mom and Dad. Granny gave me her sister's recipe. Dad rolled out the dough (I was shocked too), and Mom flipped pies while I filled them and crimped them. I loved spending that time with my parents. That's one of those things I'll always remember, ya know? The pies turned out great! It needs a little more of "something", but I'm not sure what that is yet. Dad says it needs more salt in the crust, so I'll try that next time. I've got to perfect them before I open my bakery; those will be a necessity. <br />
<br />
It was a great weekend! I can't wait until next year. Who's coming?!<br />
<br />
Let me backtrack to July 17...I went to visit Jonathan, Meredith, and Chandler Bryan. It was such a great visit! Chandler is the sweetest little girl, and she's so active. She took her first steps while I was there, so of course that filled my heart. I was scared she wouldn't let me hold her, but we quickly bonded. Oh yes. Two peas in a pod we are. And Mer and Jon are such loving parents. It's an out of body experience watching your friends with a child. It's an awesome feeling. I was sad to leave on Thursday; I wanted to take them with me. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet Chandler</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvuFLl5D6IHgwMVUWYapIS5VlKxAd6hUrYOZ9wzaAK56g38dklBiL1_pTCZsJ7-0WqbnccUfKPYY-DlbfwMAJ6e8nH6cg7lSbkgPi23ywMY0DDbA9PRm0v1skJZvKfJPu0fhZo8kN82p4/s1600/dallas+and+peach+weekend+404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvuFLl5D6IHgwMVUWYapIS5VlKxAd6hUrYOZ9wzaAK56g38dklBiL1_pTCZsJ7-0WqbnccUfKPYY-DlbfwMAJ6e8nH6cg7lSbkgPi23ywMY0DDbA9PRm0v1skJZvKfJPu0fhZo8kN82p4/s400/dallas+and+peach+weekend+404.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chandler walking! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4zGZ21ROh0ZKOYGk6qGu5PGdxJI543oQWy9EPr0gSI8NuPaHuCZkpdP7U3rKT8M7aizDDc7G8XF12qto7ZBepNt4MnuwSz_uRzjfD9pumVBAu386hZaBvS_MdX1efG70PY-5n02BUXuM/s1600/dallas+and+peach+weekend+405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4zGZ21ROh0ZKOYGk6qGu5PGdxJI543oQWy9EPr0gSI8NuPaHuCZkpdP7U3rKT8M7aizDDc7G8XF12qto7ZBepNt4MnuwSz_uRzjfD9pumVBAu386hZaBvS_MdX1efG70PY-5n02BUXuM/s400/dallas+and+peach+weekend+405.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what I found on the day I left. She almost did go with me. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>My next post will be London...and I have video footage. YES!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-74045812507447271362011-07-21T21:00:00.000-07:002011-07-21T21:00:08.673-07:00The Good, the Bad, and the Not So PrettyHey ya'll. So since my trip, I haven't been inspired to write. It left me feeling incomplete in the sense that I didn't spend the time I needed to over there. It's not that I'm unhappy here because that isn't the case at all. I just need to spend more time rolling around in God's creation because ya'll, it is breath-taking. I'll go back next summer. FOR SURE. If you haven't figured out by now, I am writing again. Something obviously inspired me, so I will share that with you. <br />
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Let's start with the <strike>ugly</strike> or the uh.... <br />
<strong><em><span style="background-color: magenta;">The Not So Pretty</span></em></strong><br />
<ul><li><span style="background-color: white;">My Aunt Tricia who has battled cancer three times had to go in for a pet scan today due to swollen lymph nodes around her original breast cancer site. We won't know the results until Tuesday when Dr. Tauer returns to the office. I ask for diligent prayers on her behalf. You can read more about this on my cousin's blog <a href="http://mostlysweet.blogspot.com/">Mostly Sweet</a></span></li>
</ul><br />
<strong><em><span style="background-color: magenta;">The Bad</span></em></strong><br />
<ul><li><span style="background-color: white;">School starts back for teachers August 8. Why?! Why can't we have until September?! I BEG YOU wonderful state department. </span></li>
<li>I was at dinner last night with my friends Annesley and Meredith. We went to a restaurant called Sangria and ordered different kinds of tapas. I was eating one of my favorite tapas that I had often in Spain and the tears began to flow. I miss Spain and the food and the people and the culture and outside cafes where the heat doesn't melt you. </li>
</ul><strong><em><span style="background-color: magenta;">The Good</span></em></strong><br />
<ul><li>I just got back from a wonderful visit with Meredith, Jonathan and baby Chandler. It's always hard to say goodbye to those you love!</li>
<li>I leave tomorrow for Nashville, AR with a group of wonderful girls for our 2nd annual peach weekend. Unfortunately, there may not be any ripe peaches but that won't stop us from having a fun time. That's fo sho. The menu for this weekend is yummy and heart-clogging. You don't want to miss it!</li>
<li>I still have to update you on London, so yay for me for getting to reminisce some more!! For those of you that could care less, go clip your nose hairs. That will be your intermission. London will be in a separate post fo schnizzel. </li>
</ul><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AiqOCzR0RrgYqRsWAploReCmZ5asqZxMz5lTlXIKyymB-MZVMnB8gyjxvk-QuZbfjK8RiBC4uJuTxv_RxQv0FjpLYo6gRd54faccTUUhKRW_K37IVoLYf-Z4D-j4XesbhlynqL2rchc/s400/DSCN2471.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palma de Mallorca, Spain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-25021214428804649702011-06-27T12:10:00.001-07:002011-07-25T08:33:17.161-07:00BarcelonaRemember that song called, "Barcelona" by Jewel? <img align="left" border="0" src="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/e/57406.gif" />I won't be held back. I won't be held down. I will lead with my faith. Hold me, release me, show me the meaning of mercy let me loose. Fly, fly, let me fly.<img align="left" border="0" src="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/e/57406.gif" /><br />
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That's one of my favorite songs by Jewel because it's seems I'm always wanting to fly to different places. Today has been a great day in Barcelona. I was sad to leave my new friends in Mallorca but hopefully one day we can meet again. I woke up ready to shop today. I literally have shopped all day. Funny story...in Zara In the dressing room, this young American girl (I could tell she was American by Her horrible Spanish accent) asked me in Spanish if I liked her shoes. When I didn't answer within the first second (I was still processing the horrid accent), she repeats the question loudly and slowly as Americans often do to foreigners. I said, "Just speak English." She said, OMG! You look so foreign!" I was thinking, "Oh! Thank you! But...you sound like a valley girl. It's now 8:30 pm, and I'm sitting out on the terrace watching people on La Rambla--the main street in barcelona where all the people are. It has a very pedestrian feel since cars can't drive down the center. People are showing their talents on the side of the sidewalk wanting you to give them money. Thieves are at work trying to steal people's stuff. You know, today I almost got pick-pocketed. I say almost only because I had nothing in my pocket for her to steal. But her scrawny hand definitely reached into my skirt pocket to check. What a poor, pathetic mousy girl. I gave her a look of death, and I might add I was a head taller than she was. I also saw an old man going around to every pay phone check to see if there was money. Ahhhhh! The joys of people watching!<br />
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I did some damage at zara, mango and bershka. Let's hope I can fit it all in my backpack :). I ate breakfast at the hotel. A hardboiled egg, two pieces of ciabatta bread smothered in butter (of course), and mounds of fruit. I will talk more about the awesomeness of my hotel later. I shopped then took a break for lunch around 2:00. I took Rick Steves' suggestion and tried Restaurant Elisabets. It took me a while to find it. It wasn't on a main road, so when that happens I just go with God and hope He leads me in the right direction. He never fails. They have a lunch special for €11 (around $16) that includes an appetizer, main dish, dessert, bread, and drink. I thought that was pretty dandy. I got canalones with beef, grilled beef with French fries, cut up strawberries for dessert, and water. The beef was extremely fatty. My dad would have loved it. What little I could eat of it had a wonderful flavor. <br />
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I then walked down unknown territory to discover new things. I walked down one street then up another until WHOA! There is the cathedral of Barcelona. It was beautiful in it's gothic architectural style. I'd never seen a true gothic style before so this was fascinating. What a nice, large find on my walk! I knew then that I was in the Barri Gothic or gothic neighborhood of Barcelona. This is where the cool old buildings are. This is my kind of stuff right here: cool and old. I could've walked through there all day, but my feet and back were killing me. <br />
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I came back to the hotel to rest. Now let me tell you about Hotel Continental. I highly recommend this place to anyone traveling here. I know they have other locations as well. The rooms are great, completely pink I might add, and it's in a great location right on La Rambla close to Plaça de Catalunya. The greatest thing though is the 24 hour food bar. It's got all kinds of fresh bread, butter, and cereals. Their cooks make ravioli, yummy potatoes, rice with veggies...and fruit! Fresh oranges, kiwi, watermelon, honeydew, and pineapple. Drinks include pepsi products (ugh!), water, orange juice, milk, beer, and wine. There is also soft serve ice cream with toppings. All of this is available 24 hours a day and is pretty good. It helps save money! <br />
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After resting, I took another Rick Steves' suggestion and went to Fargas--the most famous chocolatier in Barcelona. You walk in and it smells like cocoa. I could sleep in there. I imagine this is how the chocolate factory smelt like for Charlie. I got four pieces for €3.47 ($5.20). Pretty expensive but who cares. Vacay!! I got a cream filled, hazelnut, caramel and toffee, and almond. So rich! My favorite was caramel and toffee. Then I had dinner at the hotel. I'm in for the night. It's sad I can't go out when it's dark; it's not that safe in the daytime. <br />
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I failed to mention the highlight of my last night in Mallorca. The band at the one star (that should give you some hint as to how awful they were) sang "Achy Breaky Heart" belting it in their strong Spanish accents and using a tambourin. It was quite lovely and very memorable!<br />
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhoneAshleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-24037832577908986052011-06-23T09:53:00.001-07:002011-07-25T08:35:32.787-07:00Do as the Germans do? No, no and no.Yesterday was probably my least eventful day. That's fine by me since I came to relax. We had two extra hours of class since class is canceled Friday. After class, I got a manicure. Those of you who know me know that I have the fastest growing and driest cuticles (or as my students say "cruticles") known to man. They were so dry and long that they were catching onto my clothes and bleeding. I found a place in Germantown, and she got the job done for €10 ($15). It was well worth it. <br />
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Afterwards I just chilled. Since I can't go in the sun until my burn goes away, I washed clothes. And put on a concert while doing so. It made it way more entertaining. I'm sure I freaked out my neighbors, but hey! When in Mallorca...I had dinner at Cantina Vivaldi which is directly beside my hotel. The two German boys in my class, Thomas and Philipp, have been raving about it so I thought I've give it a shot. I ordered a vegetarian pizza called Pizza de Ortulana (eggplant). It had grilled zucchini, eggplant, and red bell pepper. I usually never choose a food with these items, but this was the only one that didn't contain seafood or olives. It was BUENÍSIMO!! I am so sad I didn't come sooner. I ate the whole pizza except for half a slice. I didn't care if I looked like a cerdo (pig), I was happy inside. I looked down while eating the last piece and saw that my arm had grown 2cm. I stopped eating immediately. If I come back looking like Marie Antoinette, it wasn't the cake that did it. It was the pasta! <br />
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Afterwards, Natalie wanted to show me the German district. There are so many Germans here that Germany considers Mallorca their 17th state. She said I wouldn't believe my eyes--she was correct. I had no idea this Sodom and Gomorrah existed. There were men in the streets handing out flyers. Of course I said ,"Danke." When I read and saw what was on the flyers (naked woman), I quickly through it away. One man that Natalie knew stopped us and began talking to Natalie. He saw I looked lost, and I told him I didn't speak German. I told him I was from the USA, and he whispered in my ear, "Can we go have sex later?" I looked at him with a evil smile and said, "Absolutely not." he asked why not and I said that I was waiting until after marriage. "What are you, Muslim or something?" I told him I was Church of Christ. He looked disgusted. What a perv. Anywho, there was this club called Paradise. We didn't go in of course, but in the club the strippers have sex with the men on the stage. Isn't that just dandy? A whirlpool of disease. It like at the fair, "Herpes! Hot off the grill! Get it while it's hot!". Ya know? I think I'll pass on that one. We didn't stay long. It's quite loud and obnoxious after a while. It's good to see German ways. <br />
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Today is the Night of Fire festival honoring San Juan. We are talking a bus to Palma where there are more Spanish people. I hope we don't stay out late. I'm already exhausted :). Peace and blessings!<br />
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhoneAshleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5798527786582745655.post-9214668325002126592011-06-21T12:22:00.001-07:002011-07-25T08:35:54.275-07:00My world right nowWhat a change from the good ol' USA. I am now on the island of Mallorca, but first I want to tell you a little about Lisbon, Portugal. The Lisbon hostel was my favorite hands down. It was homey and comfortable. They also did your laundry for free which made me extremely happy. We did a walking tour of Lisboa (as they call it) and learned a lot about the city. We also learned that the city is one giant hill. I should have nice toned legs after this trip :). We ate at the hostel the first night. The hostel mom cooked: chickpea soup with spinach, codfish with cream, and mango mousse. For €8 it was an awesome deal. Those who have ever traveled en Europe know it is impossible to eat a three course meal for that cheap. We got to know people in the hostel also. After dinner, we sat around the common room. Max, a guy who worked at the hostel, played the guitar and sang. I sang along of course. Then we went to bed around 12:30. I slept like a baby. I mean, come on, we'd been up since 4:00 am. <br />
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The next day trained to Belém which is a suburb of Lisbon. We saw a beautiful monastery and the Tower of Belém. It used to be an old watch tower. Of course I spoke in my English accent and took pictures acting like I was a prisoner. Classic Ashley being American and all. You know, a girl that worked at the Lisbon hostel thought I was Italian because of my dark hair and jaw line. And in Mallorca, this woman comes up to me in a frenzy speaking Swedish. I said, "No svenska." finally she understood that I wasn't Swedish. Now that's a nationality I never thought I'd look like. Yah. AND when I sit down in restaurants, they speak to me in Spanish and speak to everyone else in English or German. So yay for looking the part!!<br />
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So back to Belém...the Tower was great until you wanted to come down from the top. There was a dark, winding staircase where hardly two people could fit. It took FOR-E-VER!! I thought I was going to have a panic attack. After that experience, we deserved a pastry. <br />
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The Pastêis de Belém are so famous, and we wanted to try them out. The restaurant looks so tiny from the outside, but it goes on forever. You can actually watch them making the pastries. There were hundreds laid out ready to serve. José, our tour guide from the previous day, said Rey sell around 60,000 a day. They are €.95 cent euro. We got one each. They are the size of small tarts, and they are served fresh out of the oven. We sprinkled cinnamon and powdered sugar on them. And then it happened...the bite heard round the world. It was the best taste I've ever experienced. The flakiness of the pastry, the perfect texture and sweetness of the custard. It was simply--perfection. I wish I could describe it better for you, but words simply can't do it justice. It almost brought me to tears (literally) thinking about the masterpiece of these pastries. The nun's who hold the secret must sleep well at night knowing they have created the most divine pastry on earth. I figure Heaven will be like this but 100x worse. How can you speak words of such beauty? <br />
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That night, we had our farewell dinner to Lisbon and to Brian and Julie's part of the trip. We decided to go to the praised cafe Sâo Bento. They ask if we want smoking or non-smoking. We say non and the waiter directs us to a small room upstairs with five tables. You see who gets priority in this country. The walls had red velvet on them, and the chairs also. It was classy and quaint. We all ordered the steak Sâo Bento which is their classic filet with a cream sauce. It came with homemade French fries. The steak was the most tender I had EVER eaten and probably the beat tasting. The cream sauce was divine. It was so good that after we finished the steak, we sopped up the cream sauce like it was gravy.<br />
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Our waiter was in his '50s, named Manuel, and was precious. He was so tiny and cute. I told him I loved him in Portuguese "Amo-te" and he said, "I love you too.". He said it in English. What a precious soul. My meal was €27.00 euro. Not bad for the best steak in Lisbon. We left, Manuel walked us to the door and gave me two kisses on the cheek. He watched us to the cab like a sweet old grandpa. <br />
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We were sad to leave Lisbon. We'd met so many friends there. But it was time to say goodbye to them and to Brian and Julie. It wad time to build my own adventure, see what I'm really made of. <br />
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And then came Mallorca...the awesome little Mediterranean island. It was 81° today with the UV rays at 9. Let me put that into perspective for you: arkansas' UV ray was 2 today. With that being said, I laid out for four hours yesterday with my German friend Natalie. She is a bronzed babe, but I had to slather in sunscreen. I still burned like a pig being roasted. I'm in pain, but it's just on my backside. Who knows how that happened. Anywho, I couldn't lay out today, and I probably won't be able to tomorrow. So much for becoming a bronzed Mediterranean goddess. Poop. <br />
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To end my very long post tonight, I will tell you a story. This story is called "The Café", and it is a very good story. You see, there was this girl. She wanted to be a Mediterranean goddess, but she was so fair skinned that she burnt badly her second day in the sun. So all she can do is eat. She feasts on gazpacho, paella, pizza, and tapas. She gets rounder and rounder. The ocean could purchase her to be a buoy. But no, she sits in the restaurants by herself and listens to the people around her. It's a melting pot of cultures and ideas and languages. She is also listening to the music in the café. Her favorite songs of the evening were: "Alone" and "Visions of Love". She wondered what their obsessions were with 80s American music. Those were the only thoughts of the day. The End."<br />
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If I dont die of second hand smoke, I'll be back on July 4. Peace and Blessings to all and to all a good night!<br />
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhoneAshleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04895736711123437925noreply@blogger.com0