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Two years.

That’s how long I’ve now been at this whole blogging thing. Which actually makes this my longest relationship to date. Awesome.

And just when I thought I wouldn’t have anything left to write about, grad school came along and brought with it more inspiration. (And more stress, making this outlet even more necessary.)

So how do you celebrate two years? With a trip up to Philly, of course!

This weekend we’ll be visiting with my girlfriends, celebrating PIC‘s engagement, shopping for bridesmaid dresses (well, that’s just one of us), and running the ING Rock ‘n’ Roll Philadelphia Half Marathon!

The Philly half is one of my favorite races, not least of all due to the awesome medal you get at the finish line.

I can’t wait to add another one to my collection. And, of course, to see what motivational signs the spectators come up with this year.

Happy weekend!

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Today, as the title would suggest, is my moving day. Rather, my office moving day.

Because I’m transitioning into part-time at work, so I can be a full-time student, I’m being moved from my cubicle to an office usually reserved for interns.

At first, I saw this as kind of a downgrade.

I saw it as being kicked out of my desk (the one I’ve been at for nearly 3 years) and moving to an office that I’ll eventually be sharing (with an intern), all in favor of a new employee – who actually shares my name. Talk about feeling replaced.

But then, after a little dose of perspective (thanks to the bf, since I was being a cranky pants), I started to think along the lines of, yay! I get an office! And the intern and I won’t have the same schedule, so most of the time it’ll be my own! And I get a pretty flower to add a little color to the place!

Suffice it to say, I was feeling pretty positive about the whole thing.

And then I started packing this morning. It’s amazing how much stuff can accumulate over the course of a few years.

Not to mention the drawers I’ve filled, or all the shoes I’ve left at the office, at one point or another.

About 7 pairs, I think, at last count.

But, in keeping with the positive spin, lugging these boxes o’ stuff will certainly be my strength training for the day.

Plus, with an office, think of all the new privacy I’ll have for blogging! Priorities, you know.

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On the 5th of every month, bloggers from around the world are open to write about rights and issues concerning women. First started by Shine and Marie, we’re hoping to bring a variety of women’s issues to the forefront to make people aware of what’s going on. For the month of May, we’ve chosen to write about Women’s Reproductive Rights and Issues. Please join us in telling us your stories, thoughts, and ideas on a monthly basis. To read the first installment, click here.


I’ve always imagined that it must be hard to work at a Planned Parenthood. I imagine that you want to be supportive of your patients and thankful, even, that some of the younger, teenage visitors have recognized you as a resource, and have taken that often terrifying step of coming in. And I imagine that you want to be cautious of seeming judgmental, while at the same time perhaps not condoning every situation that you see. I imagine that it might sometimes be hard to keep personal feelings in check.

The first time I went to Planned Parenthood was almost nine years ago so that I could start birth control. And that was when I met Mary.

She was my nurse, and one of the kindest women I’ve met. She could tell that I was nervous, and attempted to put me at ease.

She asked me about my boyfriend, who I’d told her was waiting in the lobby for me.

She smiled, she was gentle, and she didn’t judge me for my age, even though she was old enough to be my mother.

She made me feel free and comfortable to ask any questions that I might have. And did I ever. I left Planned Parenthood that day so much more relaxed than when I had gone in.

Fast forward a couple years later, when I had been off birth control for a few months, but, due to a blossoming relationship, wanted to go back on. Without going into too much detail, there had been some minor contact and, even though I knew I was all right, I just wanted to make sure before going back on the pill. So I scheduled another appointment and wasn’t nearly as nervous as the first time, after having Mary as my nurse.

I don’t remember the name of the woman who saw me this time. What I do remember is telling her my situation and her condescending tone when she asked, “How could you have let that happen?” I remember being shocked and shamed, and thinking that her reaction was uncalled for. I wasn’t asking for sympathy by any means – just a little understanding. And I was already there. I was taking care of myself.

After that appointment, I stopped going to Planned Parenthood. It was a combination of that particular attitude, and the lucky fact that my mom was supportive and willing to help me find a gynecologist.

But that experience made me so grateful for people like Mary, who are able to make a potentially scary experience a little less frightening, and who can put others at ease with a smile and some small talk.

And it made me recognize just how important the right attitude can be in such sensitive situations.

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And, as promised, the final Mad Libs versions. (See the first ones here.)

From Heather C:

A week from tomorrow, I’ll be attending my first of 16 races this season. This one, fully, will be in the parking lot, so I’ll quickly be taking advantage of the octagon while we’re there. I mean, who couldn’t use a little shoe and mug, right?

Aside from that, though, this race is for my Muffin’s best friend, so I know how smooth it is to him. And I know how excited and nervous he is to give his swingset. (I also think he’s secretly sad, that the couple’s duck, Nora, will be missing the festivities.)

I don’t reluctantly like when the colonial era fly by, but this time I’d be okay with it. Because that just puts us closer to running, typing, and educating in the parking lot. I can’t think of a better way to usher in May.

From inkpuddle:

A week from tomorrow, I’ll be attending my first of 23 funerals this season. This one, clumsily, will be in France, so I’ll heavily be taking advantage of the underwear while we’re there. I mean, who couldn’t use a little cheese and truck, right?

Aside from that, though, this funeral is for my Pookie’s best friend, so I know how squishy it is to him. And I know how excited and nervous he is to give his pillow case. (I also think he’s secretly sad, that the couple’s hamster, Orlando, will be missing the festivities.)

I don’t bravely like when the three years fly by, but this time I’d be okay with it. Because that just puts us closer to grabbing, yodeling, and jumping in France. I can’t think of a better way to usher in May.

And last, but not least, from Alice:

A week from tomorrow, I’ll be attending my first of 2/3 pie-eating contests this season. This one, grimly, will be in a port-a-potty, so I’ll languidly be taking advantage of the thumb drive while we’re there. I mean, who couldn’t use a little stomach and diamond earring, right?

Aside from that, though, this pie-eating contest is for my Snuggie Wuggums’ best friend, so I know how sparkly it is to him. And I know how excited and nervous he is to give his unicorn. (I also think he’s secretly sad, that the couple’s marmoset, Euclid, will be missing the festivities.)

I don’t wetly like when the Elizabethan era fly by, but this time I’d be okay with it. Because that just puts us closer to fainting, dueling, and drooping in a port-a-potty. I can’t think of a better way to usher in May.

Again, thank you guys for playing. I laughed out loud as I was filling some of these in. (I also gagged a little bit at the idea of a pie-eating contest in a port-a-potty, so, there’s that.) Hope you’re off to a good start for the week!

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You remember playing the game Mad Libs? Filling in the nouns, verbs, adjectives, etc. and trying to make the story as ridiculous as possible? It was one time when you didn’t have to make sense. In fact, it was more fun when you didn’t.

For most people.

As you may have guessed, I always liked my stories to be coherent. I would try to guess where it was heading and choose my words accordingly. I know, I know. Barrels of fun, right over here.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago when I received the official invitation to my friend Gaff’s wedding. And the RSVP was in Mad Libs form! For instance, “ your names will be verb to join Gaff and Soon-to-be-Hubby as they verb down the aisle. When we verb, past tense the invitation…” and so on and so forth. I was torn between wanting to be creative, and wanting it to make sense. Which is why it took me nearly two weeks to fill it out and send it back. Sorry Gaff!

But it did inspire me. Maybe some of you aren’t as, oh, I don’t know, “control freak” as I am. Maybe you like to shake things up a bit. Maybe you don’t mind when your stories vary from the predicted path. So let’s try it together. You give me the words to fill out my mini-story, and I’ll post it tomorrow – with as many versions as you’ve given me.

Here’s what we need:

– number

– event

– adverb

– place

– adverb

– noun

– noun

– noun

– pet name (as though for a significant other)

– adjective

– noun

– animal

– name

– adverb

– period of time

– verb ending in -ing

– verb ending in -ing

– verb ending in -ing

Do it, to it! I can’t wait to see how it turns out…

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A little while ago my boyfriend was telling me about an idea that he’d read about, or heard about somewhere (I was listening, I swear), in which people were asked to create Six Word Autobiographies.

My initial thought was, can I really sum up 24 years in six words? And then, if I could, would that be good or bad? So I did a little Google search to see just how popular this project was, and I found a LOT of responses. The question has been posed in numerous forums and I’ve loved reading the phrases people have come up with.

There were a few that struck me, for various reasons:

  • I feel cutest in my undies
  • Firm on Ideals, Soft on Approach.
  • I remember life before cell phones
  • Well, I thought it was funny.Stephen Colbert (Note: The others were from anonymous commenters.)

As for me, after he brought it up, we both tried to figure out our own six word autobiographies, and this is what I came up with:

Life’s more fun with sound effects.

What would yours be?

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Today is the end of the TMI Thursday era. It had a good run and, frankly, I was impressed with those who managed to pull out a story every.single.week. I lasted for a little over 6 months until I was grasping at straws. Not to say that I’ve exhausted all my embarrassing stories, but something changed along the way. As recently as December, I was trying to participate in Lilu’s TMI Thursday: Post Secret edition, but I just couldn’t do it – not even anonymously.

I had the perfect photo and the words to go with it. I was logged on to the account and everything…but I couldn’t hit send.

Now, I don’t know how much TMI Thursday was ever intended to be a learning experience, per se, but for me it was. It made me realize that I still have some boundaries. That there are still some stories that I’m not willing to share – not necessarily because they’re too gross or embarrassing, but because there’s some aspect that’s just too personal.

And as much as I love blogging, and putting it all out there, I still need to keep a piece of me for me.

That said, even without it being a regular feature, I’m sure I’ll have some TMIs up here from time to time. I mean, racing season is starting up again, so I’m bound to be throwing up in public at inopportune times. And what kind of blogger would I be if I didn’t share that with you all?

So, though I don’t have a new one to report, I leave you with the TMI that was probably the hardest to write and own up to. Most likely because I kept it a secret shame for oh-so-long.

And, along with that (Why Jack and I are not friends), I offer you these words of (fairly common sensical) wisdom:

ALWAYS Exercise Caution When Drinking Jack Daniels

(Oh, and maybe make sure someone has an extra set of your keys – and an extra pair of shorts. Just in case. For emergencies.)

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