<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327</id><updated>2011-08-05T09:33:06.149-07:00</updated><category term='steal of the century'/><category term='makeup'/><category term='funny'/><category term='baby'/><category term='food'/><category term='family'/><category term='wedding'/><category term='famous folks'/><category term='video'/><category term='fun'/><category term='living life'/><category term='writing'/><category term='love'/><category term='fashion'/><category term='kids'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>Jennipah On Tour!</title><subtitle type='html'>I have too much energy to stay in one place</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>262</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-4931872314213357510</id><published>2008-07-24T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T10:33:39.447-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>A letter to my bump</title><content type='html'>Dear Baby,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My last post was in October, and you were also "born" in October. Coincidence? Nausea and my super tired state through the beginning of this year all point to a big fat no. (OK, so you weren't actually quite born the way most people think of the word, but you certainly changed my world as soon as I knew about the existence of you! That's pretty darn "born" to me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I first knew you had arrived in my belly when I couldn't drink. No, your mommy does not need to join a 12-step program, but I do - I mean, I used to - often enjoy a glass of wine (or two) with dinner. One night, many nights ago, that second glass of red just wouldn't go down. I had a sneaking suspicion that you had joined our family. Both your daddy and I were super excited and happy when we saw your healthy little heartbeat at the doctor's office when I was eight weeks pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time passed really quickly, yet I also felt like I was pregnant for a long time. And finally and amazingly, today is supposed to be your big, official predetermined birthday... but you seem to be happy just staying put in my tummy. You, like your mommy, must not be in a very big hurry to jump out of a warm and cozy bed. You, like your mommy, must enjoy making a fashionably late entrance. Though your mommy understands how you must feel, she is very, very anxious to meet you! Can you come out soon, please? There are so many people who want to hurry up and love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you so much already. When I think about holding you in my arms, my eyes get teary - and I am not a crier! I wonder if you look like your mommy or your daddy. I hope you have daddy's long, lean build. (But he was also a TEN-pound baby, so I hope you don't follow him in your birth weight!) Between your daddy's noggin and my own, it's pretty much inevitable that you will have a big head... but that just means you will have a large, smart brain. I haven't heard labor is exactly fun with a melon-headed baby, but I'm ready for you, my love!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, you have given me a very easy pregnancy. I was pretty tired and a little nauseated during my first trimester, but I kept everything down and did not have many food aversions or cravings at all. The only cuisine I didn't want was Indian food and kubideh - I usually love both. I wanted to eat anything Korean, probably because it's my comfort food. And lately, I can eat an entire watermelon in just a couple of sittings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second trimester was a total breeze; I felt like regular old me, just with an added bump. The third trimester had me feeling a little heavy, but I've been as active as ever. I gained a full 35 pounds (which is on the upper end of the recommended 25-35), and it happened steadily at a pound a week from the moment we confirmed you were growing. Maybe that's why I've been lucky enough to avoid stretch marks (knock on wood). Many of my friends told me that they didn't start gaining until their fourth or fifth month, and some even lost weight in the beginning. But not your mommy! I've had NO problems with eating or sleeping, so I consider myself very blessed. I've had no problems with much of anything outside of my already Flinstone-like feet turning into Shrek feet with all the swelling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On July 11th, on the first day the new 3G iphone was offered, I stood in line with your Auntie Janet to get it. Uncle Byong didn't seem happy that she was leaving behind her seven-month old baby, Mason oppa, and taking your nine-month pregnant mommy to camp out for a tech toy. But everything worked out beautifully in the end. As far as I was concerned, I was totally fine. Ask me to tell you the story when you get older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just this past Sunday, your daddy was planning on going to a Yaz concert with some of our friends. Yaz is already considered old school, so you'll probably consider them absolutely ancient. Anyway, I wasn't planning to go since the 930 Club is pretty much standing room only. My Shrek feet weren't going to fare too well with all that. However, one of our friends backed out, so I decided to check out just a couple of songs... and ended up staying for the whole thing! Your mommy really believes in embracing life and making the most out of every situation, and she plans on passing on that attitude to you too. Your poor daddy has some full hands ahead of him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of your daddy, he already loves you too. He's been talking to you and calling your mommy when he's out to make sure you've been safe. When he found out you were going to be a girl instead of a boy, he worried for a full day because he already started to think about your teenage years. Do me a favor and take it easy on him when you get there. You'll want to rebel, and you'll like boys, but let's shield your daddy from the stuff that'll stress him out too much. You don't have to be as much of a prude as your mommy was, but just be a good girl and make sure your daddy knows your goodness. He's a great man, and he's going to be a wonderful daddy. I have a feeling you're going to be daddy's little girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You love to move around in me, and you just kicked my rib. You always kick me on my right side. It must be getting tight in there, so come on out whenever you're ready! If you don't make your way out by Monday, your mommy is getting induced. I've heard that labor becomes even more painful this way and possibly leads to a higher rate of C-sections, so we're trying to avoid that. Mommy has been walking a LOT, and the doctor told me at today's appointment that you've dropped a lot since last week, and I'm finally one whole cm dilated (vs the "fingertip" you've been for the last couple weeks). I'm hopeful you'll be ready to make your grand entrance soon. But I don't want to push you if you're not ready, so you go ahead and do whatcha gotta do, baby girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Til then, we love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-4931872314213357510?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/4931872314213357510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=4931872314213357510' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/4931872314213357510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/4931872314213357510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2008/08/letter-to-my-bump.html' title='A letter to my bump'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-7902143653113604045</id><published>2007-10-29T17:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T16:54:57.238-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This is a postcard</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_u8lvLa6n7qA/RyZ-_b-W5oI/AAAAAAAAAHE/9ZfVwKxxHq4/s1600-h/image-upload-713135.jpe"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_u8lvLa6n7qA/RyZ-_b-W5oI/AAAAAAAAAHE/9ZfVwKxxHq4/s320/image-upload-713135.jpe"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126924854114051714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;it made my day. The why is soon to come. Isn&amp;#39;t unexpected and fun snail mail the best?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-7902143653113604045?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/7902143653113604045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=7902143653113604045' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/7902143653113604045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/7902143653113604045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2007/10/this-is-postcard.html' title='This is a postcard'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_u8lvLa6n7qA/RyZ-_b-W5oI/AAAAAAAAAHE/9ZfVwKxxHq4/s72-c/image-upload-713135.jpe' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-5647665452180046688</id><published>2007-10-17T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T21:57:50.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Noticed</title><content type='html'>To my friends who have noticed I haven't been blogging, I thank you for caring.  I haven't dropped off the face of DC (though I've considered giving up on trying to find good Mexican food, along with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Fernet&lt;/span&gt; being served anywhere within driving distance). The truth is, the good ole "tour" is not what it used to be.  I might have to change the name of this blog... or at least remove the darn exclamation point.  I no longer feel exclamation point worthy!  I changed jobs - same company, different position - and now, instead of exploring the new, hip restaurants of San Francisco, I'm driving all over the state of Maryland in my new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Prius&lt;/span&gt;.  Alas.  It is what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news is that I did finally get myself &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;automobilically&lt;/span&gt;-enabled; my daddy still has my silver &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Prius&lt;/span&gt;.  My new baby is black and beautiful.  (That last sentence on its own might evoke raised brows and questioning looks.)  Anyway, the new ride came as a result of my new job, which has kept me ridiculously busy.  Thus, the horrid visit to the DC &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt;.  And the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;heart-wrenchingly&lt;/span&gt; unsympathetic shredding of my beloved CA licence before my very own DC-residing eyes.  I think the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt; should be required to have a psychiatrist on site.  Are they the ones who can prescribe drugs, or am I thinking of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;psychologists&lt;/span&gt;?  Anyway, I needed the mental assistance, but all I had was the lady who told me to smile for my picture, which turned out HUGE on my new license.  Go ahead, make your own "big head" jokes and insert 'em right here.  Continue reading when you're done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I actually considered taking down my blog altogether at one point because I was doing such a bad job of keeping it up. And then I remembered why I kept it in the first place: I want more. (I really wish I would've written this before Britney's new "Gimme More" was released because that's what played in my mind as I typed...)  I love to write, and this shouldn't be a chore.  I love my friends, and it shouldn't be so hard for me to find the time to pick up the phone to say hello.  I love my husband, and my new job shouldn't keep me so busy and tired that I can't enjoy my time with him.  Why did I move all the way here, after all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've recommitted myself to writing again.  I'm working on another &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;DailyCandy&lt;/span&gt; freelance piece.  And I'm going to be better about keeping in touch with the people who matter most to me.  And I'm going to spend quality time with my beloved &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Taer&lt;/span&gt;, without complaining to him about how hard this new job is.  And I'm going to live to LIVE, and not because I'm trying to chase a dollar or prove myself in one way or another to people who don't really care about me being me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I hope I recognize myself again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-5647665452180046688?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/5647665452180046688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=5647665452180046688' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/5647665452180046688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/5647665452180046688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2007/10/noticed.html' title='Noticed'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-7717101021831234358</id><published>2007-09-14T08:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T16:54:57.407-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Never go to the DMV on a friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_u8lvLa6n7qA/RuqmIHiQKEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/4pJEEUtrL-4/s1600-h/image-upload-772264.jpe"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_u8lvLa6n7qA/RuqmIHiQKEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/4pJEEUtrL-4/s320/image-upload-772264.jpe"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110079385597126722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;... or a Monday. Or any day, if you can help it. After almost 3 hours at the DC DMV with a side trip to the Social Security Administration, they just shredded my CA license &amp;#45; SO SAD! And now I am  waiting to take what will surely be a bad photo. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-7717101021831234358?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/7717101021831234358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=7717101021831234358' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/7717101021831234358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/7717101021831234358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2007/09/never-go-to-dmv-on-friday.html' title='Never go to the DMV on a friday'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_u8lvLa6n7qA/RuqmIHiQKEI/AAAAAAAAAG8/4pJEEUtrL-4/s72-c/image-upload-772264.jpe' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-2797503767319450232</id><published>2007-06-29T09:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-29T09:02:11.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Kind of Push Ups</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/wRdYpe0Fvq8' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/wRdYpe0Fvq8'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;OK, I feel like I've turned into a video posting fiend, but this is one that I personally filmed.  This is our friends' son, and he is hiLARious!  This is his attempt at doing push ups... I think my own version might not look all that different.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-2797503767319450232?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/2797503767319450232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=2797503767319450232' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/2797503767319450232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/2797503767319450232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-kind-of-push-ups.html' title='My Kind of Push Ups'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-2442378308745137393</id><published>2007-06-28T19:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T19:57:07.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SYTYCD</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/iSLBZY23UjM' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/iSLBZY23UjM'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;If you haven't seen this yet, watch this first; then go to the parody.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-2442378308745137393?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/2442378308745137393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=2442378308745137393' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/2442378308745137393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/2442378308745137393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2007/06/sytycd.html' title='SYTYCD'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-6456830088613086716</id><published>2007-06-28T19:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T19:55:42.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So These Guys Think They Can Dance</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/koC7zRRHkdA' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/koC7zRRHkdA'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;and they're hilarious!  I'll post the OG dance for anyone who isn't as hooked on "So You Think You Can Dance" as I am.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-6456830088613086716?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/6456830088613086716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=6456830088613086716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/6456830088613086716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/6456830088613086716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2007/06/so-these-guys-think-they-can-dance.html' title='So These Guys Think They Can Dance'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-5466758006747051160</id><published>2007-05-16T17:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T14:55:42.245-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>We're back!</title><content type='html'>I *think* I should be back to my usual blogging ways soon.  In the meantime, here's a little something from our wedding:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.monstercrayons.com/images/flvplayer.swf" width="320" height="200" allowfullscreen="true" flashvars="&amp;displayheight=180&amp;file=http://www.monstercrayons.com/clients/042107hh/video.flv&amp;height=200&amp;width=320&amp;location=http://www.monstercrayons.com/images/flvplayer.swf" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-5466758006747051160?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/5466758006747051160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=5466758006747051160' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/5466758006747051160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/5466758006747051160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2007/05/were-back.html' title='We&apos;re back!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-1334606363565982044</id><published>2007-04-09T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-09T14:00:07.587-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DIY wedding veil</title><content type='html'>I've SO been a BAD BAD blogger!  Oh well.  The wedding's now less than two weeks away.  My newest pat-myself-on-the-back accomplishment is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made my own veil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My uber-cool friend from work, Cristina, gave me the idea, since her talented self did it for her own wedding.  So I visited my local fabric store, and...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I think I can be a veil maker.  I seem to think I can do anything.  Ha!  Hope it doesn't fly off my head during the ceremony.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-1334606363565982044?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/1334606363565982044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=1334606363565982044' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/1334606363565982044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/1334606363565982044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2007/04/diy-wedding-veil.html' title='DIY wedding veil'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-5073033256597634978</id><published>2007-03-13T12:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T13:03:19.062-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Momzilla or Bridezilla?</title><content type='html'>So my mom has been trying really hard to plan the wedding too.  She's been - uh - "helpful" with all her suggestions, but I don't want the Asian-style dreamy glamour portrait shots.  I like photojournalism, even if she thinks it looks like "snapshots anyone could take."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like clean, modern floral arrangements.  She wants bright and cheerful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have our differences.  We're working past them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, she asked me about my DJ.  She said, "I don't know what American DJs use, but if they are going to play CDs, we can have some of our friends and relatives bring their KARAOKE music.  You know your Uncle Alex is practically like a professional singer!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't show my mom my horror immediately.  But my wedding will not be an American Idol audition!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-5073033256597634978?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/5073033256597634978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=5073033256597634978' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/5073033256597634978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/5073033256597634978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2007/03/momzilla-or-bridezilla.html' title='Momzilla or Bridezilla?'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-1116159914443932177</id><published>2007-02-13T15:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T16:54:57.557-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The definition of accumulation</title><content type='html'>I HAVE BEEN A BAD, BAD BLOGGER! Naughty, naughty me. I deserve a spanking for how bad I've been at updating my friends on my life, and I hope anyone who has cared enough to tell me they miss my posts will forgive me. There have been a LOT of things keeping me busy, including the wedding planning - eek - and house renovating, just to name a couple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Anyway&lt;/span&gt;, excuses aside, in my first post "back," I'd like to share one of my most exciting recent endeavors... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u8lvLa6n7qA/RdJQQxeTnhI/AAAAAAAAAEs/N3eTie_B7bY/s1600-h/elfa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031171982814846482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u8lvLa6n7qA/RdJQQxeTnhI/AAAAAAAAAEs/N3eTie_B7bY/s320/elfa.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We designed and organized our master bedroom closet(s) thanks to &lt;a href="http://www.containerstore.com/elfa/index.jhtml" target="_blank"&gt;The Container Store&lt;/a&gt;! And as you can see by our ORANGE closet doors and trim, PAINTING is next on our priority list. (The opposite wall is a bright, electric blue. But that's a whole other story.) Anyway, we measured and entered our measurements online and tweaked our plans before heading to the store on what we thought was the last day of their annual 30% &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;elfa&lt;/span&gt; sale. The good news for anyone else out there hoping to organize their living spaces is that the sale has been extended to this Monday, Presidents' Day! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I never thought I'd be so excited about a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;friggin&lt;/span&gt; closet (outside of getting my hands on the goodies in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;SJP's&lt;/span&gt; closet). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;But I am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Does that make me old? I'd like to think I'm simply a domestic diva now.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, I've also been LEARNING a lot this winter, my first as an east coaster. After my last first snow, I excitedly told anyone around me, "I've never seen snow just &lt;em&gt;falling&lt;/em&gt; like this! I only see it when I go snowboarding in Tahoe, and it's already on the ground. I've never slept with 'normal' roads to wake up to whiteness around me. And sometimes it melts away to nothing; and other times it doesn't. It's so cool!" &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;People looked at me like I was five years old, and they &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;amusedly&lt;/span&gt; replied, "Oh, you mean &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snow" target="_blank"&gt;accumulation&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;?" Oh, so that's what it's called. That's what I feel like has been going on with my life too. But I'm ready to sweep away all the stuff and to get back on track with my normal life (whatever that may be).&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also learned about sleet today. It sounds like hail, but it looks like snow. People may try to correct me, but that's how I'm defining it for now. All I know is, it's my friend for now because it gave the government agencies a SNOW DAY off of work as of the afternoon, which meant I couldn't possibly call on any of my customers. Not that I didn't want to work. But this was what I didn't get as a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Californian&lt;/span&gt;. I feel like a kid all over again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;One other thing I've been meaning and meaning to post about is my best friend's experience with a bad, bad company. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Cherrytree&lt;/span&gt;.com treated her WRONG, and I need to share the badness! My dear friend bought a present from this company, specifically asking if the package would get to its destination in time for a birthday. They promised it would... and it did not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;After t called several times to figure out what was going on, the condescending worker eventually replied, "This IS the United States Postal Service we are dealing with."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;That is NOT good customer service, and that is NOT the way to deal with anyone! A promise is a promise, and an apology should have been at hand. I can deal with small stores, and I appreciate mom and pop places, but I do NOT stand for bad service and unmet promises. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;So that's that for now. I promise to be better, even if it's just a bit at a time. I hope all is well!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-1116159914443932177?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/1116159914443932177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=1116159914443932177' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/1116159914443932177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/1116159914443932177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2007/02/definition-of-accumulation.html' title='The definition of accumulation'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u8lvLa6n7qA/RdJQQxeTnhI/AAAAAAAAAEs/N3eTie_B7bY/s72-c/elfa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-7627974540149163260</id><published>2007-01-21T10:27:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-21T10:27:10.871-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My first snow as a washingtonian!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/119/1324/1600/666707/image-upload-730874.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/119/1324/320/580794/image-upload-730874.jpg" width="320"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-7627974540149163260?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/7627974540149163260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=7627974540149163260' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/7627974540149163260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/7627974540149163260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2007/01/my-first-snow-as-washingtonian.html' title='My first snow as a washingtonian!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-3688511594146298234</id><published>2006-12-24T23:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-24T23:51:15.333-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fernet w a ginger back at the five hundred club. I really am back!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/119/1324/1600/809427/image-upload-775335.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/119/1324/320/3265/image-upload-775335.jpg" width="320"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-3688511594146298234?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/3688511594146298234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=3688511594146298234' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/3688511594146298234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/3688511594146298234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/12/fernet-w-ginger-back-at-five-hundred.html' title='Fernet w a ginger back at the five hundred club. I really am back!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-622527378430161355</id><published>2006-12-23T08:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-23T08:42:49.938-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The first baby among the girls. So good to be home!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/119/1324/1600/366231/image-upload-769940.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/119/1324/320/34295/image-upload-769940.jpg" width="320"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-622527378430161355?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/622527378430161355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=622527378430161355' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/622527378430161355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/622527378430161355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/12/first-baby-among-girls-so-good-to-be.html' title='The first baby among the girls. So good to be home!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-1661320783277233535</id><published>2006-12-05T09:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T16:54:57.687-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><title type='text'>I'm a freelance writer!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.dailycandy.com/article.jsp?ArticleId=28478&amp;city=11" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005099252253931538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u8lvLa6n7qA/RXWvQHQrOBI/AAAAAAAAABA/EWE7U_oKvGw/s400/dc+mandu.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So I've been kinda quiet, but I've been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;uber&lt;/span&gt; busy.  Here's my first article as a freelance writer on Daily Candy! I'm hoping to grow my writing career, so this is a good first baby step.  Have lots more to update, but I also have a lot of other work waiting for me, so I'll have to go for now.  But I'll blog again soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-1661320783277233535?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/1661320783277233535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=1661320783277233535' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/1661320783277233535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/1661320783277233535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/12/im-freelance-writer.html' title='I&apos;m a freelance writer!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u8lvLa6n7qA/RXWvQHQrOBI/AAAAAAAAABA/EWE7U_oKvGw/s72-c/dc+mandu.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-5515498315906801374</id><published>2006-11-27T17:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-27T17:59:17.524-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/1600/image-upload-757527.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/320/image-upload-757527.jpg" width="320"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Ladies&amp;#39; tee box in orlando. Magnolia golf course.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-5515498315906801374?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/5515498315906801374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=5515498315906801374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/5515498315906801374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/5515498315906801374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/11/picture-share_27.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-7106951623363836853</id><published>2006-11-26T09:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T09:59:43.421-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/119/1324/1600/362700/image-upload-783422.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/119/1324/320/506719/image-upload-783422.jpg" width="320"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Our hotel for our much needed vacation. Golf in orlando. Anyone have restaurant recommendations?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-7106951623363836853?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/7106951623363836853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=7106951623363836853' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/7106951623363836853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/7106951623363836853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/11/picture-share.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-6608008424715704994</id><published>2006-11-14T21:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T21:40:15.740-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The bar exam can kiss my...</title><content type='html'>So it's that time of the year again. A time I know about all too well. For some, it's filled with happiness and joy; for others, there's nothing but pain and depression. Yes, boys and girls, it's time to find out about bar exam results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though the three-day torture in California sucks the big one, I recently found out that people who take the &lt;a href="www.vbbe.state.va.us/pdf/Dress%20Code.pdf" target="_blank"&gt;Virginia Bar Exam have to wear suits&lt;/a&gt;! And not only is there no "dress down" or "casual dress" policy when it comes to attire, but applicants can't make noise when they walk, so they have to wear sneakers with those suits. Pictures of the too-cool-for-school prom dates from back in the day flashed in my mind when I heard that...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-6608008424715704994?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/6608008424715704994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=6608008424715704994' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/6608008424715704994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/6608008424715704994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/11/bar-exam-can-kiss-my.html' title='The bar exam can kiss my...'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-3527271317322847599</id><published>2006-11-09T04:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-09T05:16:53.598-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I've got a sty on my right eye</title><content type='html'>There's a lot of news running through my head, like &lt;a href="http://nytimes.com/" target="_blank"&gt;election day results&lt;/a&gt; and the &lt;a href="http://www.trent.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;breakup of Britney and K-Fed (who is now being called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;FedEX&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/a&gt;. But the thing at the top of my mind, selfishly, is what's going on with my eye. I discovered a sty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This might not seem like groundbreaking news, but the thing is: THE EAST COAST IS DOING THINGS TO MY BODY! Things are happening to me which NEVER happened before. Aforementioned sty, for example. &lt;a href="http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/07/how-humid-is-it.html" target="_blank"&gt;And my first beads of sweat&lt;/a&gt;. With the weather turning cold, I've been finding random dry patches lately. And a couple months ago, my most shocking first: I discovered sun spots on my hands! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;AaaAAHHHhhhh&lt;/span&gt;!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, I haven't suffered any permanent damage (that I know of, anyway). I don't know about this whole "seasons" thing, people. The fall foliage is pretty, but this California girl isn't faring too well...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-3527271317322847599?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/3527271317322847599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=3527271317322847599' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/3527271317322847599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/3527271317322847599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/11/ive-got-sty-on-my-right-eye.html' title='I&apos;ve got a sty on my right eye'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-490456679426124328</id><published>2006-11-02T10:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T11:56:02.212-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='living life'/><title type='text'>Sleeping habits</title><content type='html'>T and I spend many Friday and Saturday nights playing &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Texas_hold_" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;holdem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; with a dozen or so friends. If we go two weeks without this ongoing poker game, it feels like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;something's&lt;/span&gt; missing. Growing up as the four-eyed Goody-two-shoes I was, I never would've imagined my grownup nights to be filled with so much gambling ($20 buy in when the girls play; I don't even want to know the buy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;in's&lt;/span&gt; when it's just testosterone at the table) and drinking. Such is life. At least the little kids who run and dance around us balance it all out... but is it weird that five-year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt; include the word "wine" in their vocabulary?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, last weekend, we decided to sleep at Janet and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Byong's&lt;/span&gt; palace in Virginia after our game because we were planning to hit the outlets the next day. As we got ready for bed, T instructed me to, "Lock the door."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why? No one's going to barge in here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, Janet might have to come in for something."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, but she WOULD KNOCK, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;dontchathink&lt;/span&gt;? What if she's insulted that we felt the need to lock her out?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But if she knocks, then she wouldn't try to just come in anyway, so she would never have to know that we locked the door."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It feels weird for me to lock the door, in someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; house or our own. It feels so NOT OPEN. Like there's some secret. Like that one time you locked the door on me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Babe, I was in the bathroom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Still."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, maybe it's because we had our house broken into when I was little; and my sister and I had a gun put to our heads when we got shoved in the closet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Was he kidding?&lt;/em&gt; Sick and somewhat inappropriate jokes live in my man's head; and then they often spill out of his mouth. I shouldn't admit it, but I actually like his taking-it-too-far humor. But this wasn't funny. I was waiting for the, "Ha!" Turns out he wasn't joking after all. So now I try to lock our bedroom door for his sake when we sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling this whole survival instinct thing would live in him even without that childhood incident. I think it's a male thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ex-roommate and dear friend, Blaine, says he doesn't have a "my side of the bed" thing. Instead, he simply has to sleep on the side of the bed furthest from the door. And if he's in a hotel room with two beds, he wants the bed furthest from the door. Why? It just might give him those extra few seconds needed to fend off any room invaders. For those of you who don't know, Blaine is a HUGE guy who really shouldn't have to worry about physical harm from the average man, so I found his thinking really fascinating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told T about Blaine's theory, and he agrees with it a little bit. T, however, doesn't have that feeling in hotel rooms because the doors seem so secure, but in our home? Well, I sleep closest to the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My man claims it's because he just cares about being closer to the bathroom, but I wasn't sure I believed him once he said, "And if anyone comes through our door, they'll get to you first - ha!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-490456679426124328?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/490456679426124328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=490456679426124328' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/490456679426124328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/490456679426124328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/11/sleeping-habits.html' title='Sleeping habits'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-6923835898746748569</id><published>2006-10-29T15:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T15:18:29.936-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>My Halloween weekend with the kids</title><content type='html'>I love these kids!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's William; he was the Blue's Clue's dog, but now he's just in his under clothes. Anyway, he recently learned two things:&lt;br /&gt;1. How to JUMP with air (he used to just squat down and then stand straight up when he "jumped" before) and&lt;br /&gt;2. THE ROBOT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed style="width:400px; height:326px;" id="VideoPlayback" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=-7493990930071872763&amp;hl=en" flashvars=""&gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ashley is a VERY animated little girl with a LOT of energy. She gives me some competition in those areas.  Um... I look kinda crazy in this shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed style="width:400px; height:326px;" id="VideoPlayback" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=-2490167601840537497&amp;hl=en" flashvars=""&gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Rock, scissors, paper" in Korean is "Ga-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;wi&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;ba&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;wi&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;bo&lt;/span&gt;" - these kids just like the way it sounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed style="width:400px; height:326px;" id="VideoPlayback" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=-3214664782750868609&amp;hl=en" flashvars=""&gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a dance party!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed style="width:400px; height:326px;" id="VideoPlayback" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=317394393437840805&amp;hl=en" flashvars=""&gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-6923835898746748569?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/6923835898746748569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=6923835898746748569' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/6923835898746748569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/6923835898746748569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/10/my-halloween-weekend-with-kids.html' title='My Halloween weekend with the kids'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-3036469813633224428</id><published>2006-10-22T22:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-22T22:42:27.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My newest hobby: photography</title><content type='html'>Taer is out of town for a work conference, and life just isn't the same without him here. I guess it's a good thing that I'm marrying him then, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I've been addicted to taking pictures with &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Canon-Digital-Rebel-XT-f3-5-5-6/dp/B0007QKN22" target="_blank"&gt;my new camera&lt;/a&gt;, and I've been particularly addicted to playing with my photos on Picasa. I'm tired, so I'll just post a few of them for now and will write more later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got to spend some time with adorable Hailey yesterday. She's the cutest! I told her mommy that she probably won't have to take any pictures with her own camera ever again because I take a ton on my own every time I see her. But can you blame me? Look at her!  It's a good thing I'm good friends with her mommy; she might otherwise be afraid of a potential kidnapping by a crazy girl named Jenn...&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/1600/collage5.jpg"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/1600/collage5.jpg"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/400/collage5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;The lighting wasn't ideal, but we made it work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/jennhahn/HaileyChelseaAndMadison/photo#4988932872175812626"&gt;&lt;img src="http://lh3.google.com/jennhahn/RTxAA8ZPABI/AAAAAAAACNk/_MQRWpMgVNA/s288/IMG_9063.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/jennhahn/HaileyChelseaAndMadison/photo#4988932952859803666"&gt;&lt;img src="http://lh6.google.com/jennhahn/RTxAFo9zABI/AAAAAAAACOE/21O9bDlSX2Q/s288/IMG_9067.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/jennhahn/HaileyChelseaAndMadison/photo#4988931688592113682"&gt;&lt;img src="http://lh6.google.com/jennhahn/RTw-8DM5ABI/AAAAAAAACFw/ugg-DgMur1w/s288/IMG_9005.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;I took this one the last time I visited.  I was happy and proud to see a blown up version on the wall - but now they've created a shutter bug in me for sure!&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/320/IMG_1581.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-3036469813633224428?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/3036469813633224428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=3036469813633224428' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/3036469813633224428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/3036469813633224428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/10/my-newest-hobby-photography.html' title='My newest hobby: photography'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-8159166695030465830</id><published>2006-10-17T21:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T12:49:09.474-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='famous folks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>My favorite celebrity sighting</title><content type='html'>I got to spend yet another fabulous weekend in New York. I just can't seem to get enough of the city that never sleeps! And I also can't seem to avoid some kind of celebrity-related encounter during my travels lately. My FAVORITE one yet (well, sort of... and you'll soon see what I mean by that) happened on Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was enjoying a sweet afternoon snacky snack with the girls, when a random guy snuck up behind Kat and tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me," he shyly inquired. "Can I ask you a question?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wondering if he was going to hit on her, but that didn't &lt;em&gt;quite&lt;/em&gt; seem to be his intent. He continued his quest bravely, "Are you on tv?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Camilla and I both &lt;em&gt;erupted&lt;/em&gt; in giggles, and we absolutely couldn't stop laughing! I'm pretty sure one of us even snorted - and it wasn't pretty! Before I continue, I think I'll have to share a picture of our beloved Kat and ask: Does she remind you of anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/320/IMG_0147.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;So... someone famous, perhaps? Someone with gorgeous curly locks who was a great actress in a few movies before being cast in a hugely popular TV show? In fact, I think it might be THE most popular television show right now. If you need a few more hints, just tilt your head. Tilt it a little more til it's all the way Sideways. And then shed a little more light this way. Maybe get under some sunlight. Maybe some Tuscan Sun...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, if you guessed &lt;a href="http://imdb.com/name/nm0644897/" target="_blank"&gt;Sandra Oh&lt;/a&gt;, then you win a gold star and a cupcake! Here's a photo of her to refresh your memory if you need it. &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/1600/sandraoh8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/320/sandraoh8.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I know you just scrolled up to look at Kat again, and then down for Sandra Oh, and then back up again for another peek. Go ahead. This is definitely NOT one of those "Asians look alike" things. I think they may have been separated at birth. Kat seems to be sick of hearing it, and she's going to hate me for this, but oh well! Sorry, Kat, but here are a few more pictures for every one's viewing pleasure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/400/collage.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/400/collage1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kat just answered calmly, "No, I'm not on tv."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're not on &lt;a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/greysanatomy/index" target="_blank"&gt;Grey's Anatomy&lt;/a&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, that's not me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well..." With camera in hand, the 'fan' simply asked, "Can I take a picture with you anyway?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact that he STILL wanted to snap a shot with her got us rolling even harder; but Kat was a great sport about it all and posed like the true celebrity she was at that moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/1600/collage2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/320/collage2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I would SO milk that if I were her! I think the next time I go out to dinner with Kat, I'll put the reservation under "Sandra Oh" and ask for the best table in the house.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hope neither of them gets angry at me for this post - mad Kat is scary, but mad Kat morphed with mad Sandra is downright scuurrry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-8159166695030465830?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/8159166695030465830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=8159166695030465830' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/8159166695030465830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/8159166695030465830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/10/my-favorite-celebrity-sighting.html' title='My favorite celebrity sighting'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-7921277239456107956</id><published>2006-10-12T17:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-12T17:19:02.233-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><title type='text'>Red Tulip Jewelry</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://redtulipjewelry.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/400/red%20tulip.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Calling all accessorizers! I've been waiting for a long time for this site to launch, and now I can finally share these fabulous finds. And if you're reading this, you're getting the inside scoop before the November issue of Lucky hits the stands - and &lt;a href="http://redtulipjewelry.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Red Tulip&lt;/a&gt; is in it (along with &lt;a href="http://www.goodonpaperdesign.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Good On Paper&lt;/a&gt;, which is also absolutely blowing up in the design world)! I'll share the mag once it's available, but hurry up and pick up some cute earrings, necklace(s) or bracelet(s) before they sell out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/1600/IMG_1109-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/320/IMG_1109-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/1600/IMG_1109.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My dear friend, Claudia, took a jewelry making class a long, long time ago. And then, a more recent long time ago, she and I decided to take another jewelry making class together.  She made more and more beautiful pieces until she finally decided to start this company; she is now sharing her wares with the world.  And what a lucky world it is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, in the meantime, bought a bunch of beads and tools; and after making a few measly pieces I didn't necessarily love...  Well, let's just say that my name is not attached to Red Tulip.  But in one way, it actually is.  Claudia and Yvonne decided to name their pieces after friends.  So here's the "Jenn."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here's another picture of me with designer Claude, wearing my "Jenn" pair.  I love 'em.  And you will too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-7921277239456107956?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/7921277239456107956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=7921277239456107956' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/7921277239456107956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/7921277239456107956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/10/red-tulip-jewelry.html' title='Red Tulip Jewelry'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-7286548882449137638</id><published>2006-10-11T08:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T08:40:24.119-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='living life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><title type='text'>"Hair Down There"???</title><content type='html'>When gmail was initially announced, some people were weary of it feeding subject-specific ads based on the emails being sent and received.  Was someone actually reading through our email?  Was this an invasion of privacy?  Personally, I didn't think so.  I figured that Google used some word identifying tool which would automatically just spit back paid advertisements mechanically.  I really like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;gmail's&lt;/span&gt; interface and the way it gathers group messages for me based on subject line, so I'm all for it.  (My group of ten girlfriends are all over the country, and we keep in touch through group weekend update emails.  But instead of getting nine separate emails, I just get one with all the messages gathered from all the girls for me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the reason for my post today.  Audrey is a friend here who cuts and colors hair beautifully, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Justyne&lt;/span&gt; emailed a bunch of us about how much she loves the "fall foliage" highlights Audrey just gave her.  So the resulting gmail sponsored link was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COLORING PUBIC HAIR - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;bettybeauty&lt;/span&gt;.com - Color your Pubic Hair. Natural Looking. For "Hair Down There"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO PEOPLE REALLY DO THAT?  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Justyne&lt;/span&gt; did mention that she had to change the color of her brows because of her new highlights, but DOWN THERE???  And are people going for all one color, or are they getting matching highlights?  What did Gwen &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Stefani&lt;/span&gt; do when she had pink hair?????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-7286548882449137638?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/7286548882449137638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=7286548882449137638' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/7286548882449137638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/7286548882449137638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/10/hair-down-there.html' title='&quot;Hair Down There&quot;???'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-4687330156892487176</id><published>2006-10-10T10:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T10:18:38.502-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='steal of the century'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='makeup'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><title type='text'>Benefit friends and family</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/1600/benefit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/400/benefit.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's a month away, but if you're a fan of Benetint or Dr. Feelgood or any other Benefit product, it'll be worth the wait. Enter the code: BENEFIT2 between November 10-25 to get 20% off &lt;a href="http://www.benefitcosmetics.com" target="_blank"&gt;http://www.benefitcosmetics.com&lt;/a&gt;, including free shipping!  Go ahead and be a BADgal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-4687330156892487176?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/4687330156892487176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=4687330156892487176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/4687330156892487176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/4687330156892487176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/10/benefit-friends-and-family.html' title='Benefit friends and family'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-5074852647722714596</id><published>2006-10-07T10:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T10:08:44.112-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Flower girl does the robot</title><content type='html'>I went to Kirstin's wedding last weekend, and this was the flower girl's pre-ceremony contribution to keeping the bride entertained before the ceremony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed style="width:400px; height:326px;" id="VideoPlayback" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=2643318164491441502&amp;hl=en"&gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-5074852647722714596?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/5074852647722714596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=5074852647722714596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/5074852647722714596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/5074852647722714596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/10/flower-girl-does-robot.html' title='Flower girl does the robot'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-6110476738550044109</id><published>2006-10-06T12:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T09:43:24.828-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='famous folks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Southern comfort eatin' with famous friends</title><content type='html'>I forgot to share the other reason I was so gym-obsessed yesterday: I ate Low Country Fried Chicken and other deliciously less-than-healthy delights at &lt;a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/zQ4VOHh3Jv1Q5jNvkvJh6Q?hrid=HpgDCyQGSR0TzYi00-wLew" target="_blank"&gt;Georgia Brown's&lt;/a&gt;! It was damn good food, but I remained full for days. I STILL don't think I've fully digested. I have problems. Anyway, I'd definitely recommend this restaurant to anyone visiting DC who isn't afraid of some yummy food from the South. Go for the Jazz Sunday Brunch, but know that you'll inevitably be walking away with a bag to take home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Taer&lt;/span&gt; and I always get into it when we talk about whether or not DC/Maryland/Virgina is considered "the South." He's agrees that VA is southern; if you go deep into the state, people have a twang. We even had some guy drive by us in his pickup and yell out something about "Chink" after we pissed him off on the road. I swear that guy looked like he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;might've&lt;/span&gt; had a shotgun in his car, right next to some animal with horns he just hunted down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong; we have nothing against the South! I think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Taer&lt;/span&gt; and I just enjoy debating for the sake of the banter. Anyway, he doesn't buy into the "south of the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mason-Dixon_line" target="_blank"&gt;Mason-Dixon line&lt;/a&gt;" argument for Maryland and DC. Even my company puts our DC office in the Southern division. We're not part of the Northeast division. T feels that's because it would be too imbalanced to stick DC with NYC and Boston, etc. His main argument is: Look at how we vote! Maryland is a blue state!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever. I'm just glad we're close enough to the real South to have food like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/400/collage.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Oh, so I'm not just inundating you with photos of me and T and food, here's one more picture of our new celebrity friend. Fans of &lt;a href="http://www.ofarevolution.com/" target="_blank"&gt;O.A.R. (of a revolution)&lt;/a&gt; might recognize their lead guitarist, Richard On.  He and T have a lot of mutual friends in the area, so we all had dinner together.  I met him briefly in a bar before, but this was the first time we actually all hung out and talked.  I was totally expecting a too cool for school, rock star type, but Rich ended up being a complete sweetheart!  I might even say he's a little on the shy side.  If you haven't discovered O.A.R. yet, check out their site and listen to some of their music.  "Love and Memories" is getting a lot of play right now, but that's not actually my favorite song on their current album.  Let me know what you think!&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/1600/IMG_1773.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/119/1324/320/IMG_1773.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And I apparently can't make a normal face when I take pictures. I DO have problems.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-6110476738550044109?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/6110476738550044109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=6110476738550044109' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/6110476738550044109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/6110476738550044109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/10/southern-comfort-eatin-with-famous.html' title='Southern comfort eatin&apos; with famous friends'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-116005978644897609</id><published>2006-10-05T08:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T07:49:46.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OCD and ADD</title><content type='html'>I've always been a little crazy (ya think?), but with so much STUFF going on in my life right now, I'm feeling a little nuttier than usual, in a lot of different ways. My self-diagnosed ADD is kicking into high gear, and between jumping amongst all my thoughts, I'm also finding that I'm getting absolutely fixed on issues until I get them resolved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First it was house hunting. Check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next it was getting the 'rents on board with T and me. Check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was settling the wedding venue and date. Check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now? I'm determined to find a gym. I've been looking for one since we lost the fitness room in our condo when we moved a month ago, but for some reason, I'm absolutely OBSESSED today. Maybe it's because I finally have a set date when I know I want to be looking my best. Maybe it's because I'm feeling the coolness of fall creeping in, and I know I won't be able to go running when winter blasts in. Maybe it's because I just watched a Style special on Jennifer Aniston, and my muffin top (along with T's cliff hanger) isn't looking so "cute" anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I really wanted to write about something a little more interesting than my debate between Washington Sports Club or Gold's Gym today, but since I'm consumed, this seemed like the most natural thing to share. If anyone has any opinions on gyms in DC, please share!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-116005978644897609?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/116005978644897609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=116005978644897609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/116005978644897609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/116005978644897609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/10/ocd-and-add.html' title='OCD and ADD'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115984654245026974</id><published>2006-10-02T19:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T20:35:42.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good news and good gifts</title><content type='html'>I cannot believe I haven't blogged in over two weeks. What's wrong with me? Well, this is the busiest time of year for me at work, but thankfully it all ends when September ends. Maybe Green Day had my job at one point. That song has been my mantra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I come bearing a few goodies to make up for me being so MIA. First, for my fellow fans of Grey's Anatomy: Did you know the writers keep a blog? I discovered it after last season's finale, so my withdrawal from the show wasn't TOO awful. I only had minor shakes. The writing on the blog is almost as satisfying as watching the show itself. It's kinda like when you rent a movie and then get to indulge in the DVD extras afterwards. I love doing that! Anyway, I kept telling myself that I would share, but other news in my life kept me putting this on the backburner. And now, apparently, the New York Times has apparently beat me to the punch. Well, for anyone who hasn't caught it yet, check out &lt;a href="http://www.greyswriters.com/" target="_blank"&gt;GreysWriters (called GreyMatter)&lt;/a&gt;. My doctor friends refuse to immerse themselves in any more doctor stuff, but I keep trying to convince them that this is more human stuff. Maybe the site will convince them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next gift is ONE DOLLAR MAKEUP! I've gotten the email about the new line being launched at Bloomingdale's twice already, but for anyone who doesn't yet know: &lt;a href="http://www.eyeslipsface.com/elfshop/default.asp" target="_blank"&gt;eyeslipsface.com&lt;/a&gt; is offering a bunch of stuff for a mere buck - including makeup brushes - that's even better than the dollar deals at Micky D's! Super Sizing your cosmetics won't affect your waist line. Do it. Oh, and if you order enough, the code "shipit" should also get you free shipping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're a magazine junky, I already shared my favorite site for good deals, &lt;a href="http://budgetmags.stores.yahoo.net/" target="_blank"&gt;budgetmags.com&lt;/a&gt;. Titles like Vogue and Marie Claire are a mere $4-7 per year! They don't carry every title, but you might be able to find your wanted subscription at &lt;a href="https://subs.timeinc.net/faf/ns.jhtml" target="_blank"&gt;Time Warner's Friends and Family Program&lt;/a&gt;. Time and Entertainment Weekly are $20 and $10, respectively.  Order before this expires November 15th!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And one final piece of news: We set our wedding date!  It'll be April 21st at the Legion of Honor  in San Francisco.  I was debating whether or not to post the deets, but I finally decided that if Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn really want to crash, then why the heck not?  I'm sure no one else would really care, and a lot of future posts will be about planning (and house renovating and just living in general - what did I get myself into?), so there was no point worrying about others knowing.  So that's that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got back from another wedding, so I'm still recovering.  I'll post about that later.  Til then?  I sleep.  A lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115984654245026974?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115984654245026974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115984654245026974' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115984654245026974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115984654245026974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/10/good-news-and-good-gifts.html' title='Good news and good gifts'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115853712601491100</id><published>2006-09-17T23:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T22:20:09.373-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='famous folks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Our brush with Project Runway</title><content type='html'>I spent the weekend in New York for Camilla's birthday. As we were strolling around Nolita, we saw a long ling of people waiting outside a store, with a sign in the window warning that Bravo TV was filming. Turned out to be Emmett McCarthy's new store, EMc2 and guess who we ran into?...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alison from the current season of Project Runway was hanging around outside! Though I didn't want to "bother" her, I decided it might be ok in the end. She is JUST as adorable and beautiful as she looks on the show, and I have a girl crush on her (and her mom, who is in the background of this photo). Darling Alison, we told you that you got kicked of WAY too early, and it was unfair; and you simply smiled and told us it was ok. Cute AND sweet too? Yes, I'm in love!&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1467.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Malan was our next victim. Though you was a bit pretentious on the show, you won me over with your final, "I never really had a lot of friends before" speech when you got kicked off. You were a total sweetheart in person (but I still can't tell what kind of accent you have). Did you study under Madonna?&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1468.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Tim Gunn! We heart you! You seemed totally sincere as you apologized to the masses that you had to leave because you were late for filming. We forgive you for not taking a picture with us. Your bodyguard looks like he could use a little LESS grooming. Please be a friend and tell him so.&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1469.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Chloe, go on and represent for the Asian American women out there! Tell Emmett that I'm sorry I cut his head off in this picture. He's too damn tall! I wish we caught you before you rushed into the store!&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1470.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Nick, dearest Nick. You are a sweetheart and a half. You were drinking wine when we interrupted you, which made me love you more. You didn't seem to care that I approached you with a stalker-like admiration when I broke into your literal circle of friends. You graciously posed for this shot and let me blabber on about your cute top in the store. OMG, your hand is on my neck - I may NEVER wash that part of my body again!  We've got nothing but love for you, honey! &lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1474.jpg" border="0" /&gt;This is the store. Check it out!&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/IMG_1472.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1472.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Goodbye, Tim. Good from the front AND from the back! You still have that same bodyguard, though. I think I can take him. Let me know if you want a tough, petite Korean chick to take his place.&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1471.jpg" border="0" /&gt;If you don't love Project Runway, then I must stop for a minute and mourn for you. It's THAT good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115853712601491100?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115853712601491100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115853712601491100' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115853712601491100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115853712601491100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/09/our-brush-with-project-runway.html' title='Our brush with Project Runway'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115820015203037071</id><published>2006-09-13T19:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T19:15:52.046-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Did you know?</title><content type='html'>I've been trying to figure out whether Taer is my fiance or my fiancee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WELL, I finally looked it up. It turns out that &lt;a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/56eh2_ZImiSYeZ6qexhnmA" target="_blank"&gt;fiance&lt;/a&gt; (with one "e") is used when referring to a man. &lt;a href="http://www.m-w.com/dictionary/fiancee" target="_blank"&gt;Fianee&lt;/a&gt; (with two "e's") is used for a woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knew?!??  Maybe everyone but me.  Now I've won half the battle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... that makes Taer my fiance.  That is, unless there's something I don't know about!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115820015203037071?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115820015203037071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115820015203037071' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115820015203037071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115820015203037071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/09/did-you-know.html' title='Did you know?'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115798379671032447</id><published>2006-09-11T07:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T07:11:40.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering again</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/sept11.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/sept11.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On this day, I will remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2005/09/remember.html"&gt;http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2005/09/remember.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115798379671032447?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115798379671032447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115798379671032447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115798379671032447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115798379671032447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/09/remembering-again.html' title='Remembering again'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115760579703633908</id><published>2006-09-06T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T22:09:57.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bicoastal</title><content type='html'>I went back home for the long weekend for a number of reasons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Our dearest LWC is the first among us girls to have a baby bump! I couldn't miss the celebratory shower of the bump (and eventual baby).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I got a call that Cisco Systems wanted me on the cover of some print ad of theirs. Turned out to be their annual report. How funny is it that? It helped pay for my trip, so I was happy to strike a pose.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I visited possible wedding venues.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The girls and my family fed me and made me feel very loved at early birthday dinners.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Got to hang out and just enjoy being San Franciscan again.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;My days were busier than I expected them to be. In many ways, I felt like I never left. It was so easy to slip back into the old routine of eating and coffee catching and shopping and eating and hanging out - and did I mention eating? My mom often talked my ear off; and when I thought she was finished, she simply moved on over to the other ear. If God thought about the fact that I was being born to this mother of mine, He should've equipped me with five ears.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;There were some differences too. People moved away, so I didn't get to see them (Chenja). People lived in new places in the city and owned new things like cars (Lee). New restaurants popped up; I wasn't used to not knowing the latest and greatest happenings of my city.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But is it still my city?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I thought San Francisco would always be home to me. I didn't feel out of place. Not yet. But I could sense, for the first time, that there may very well be a visit down the road where I'll actually feel like a visitor there. While it still felt like I was going "back home" to San Francisco, returning to D.C. also felt like "coming home" too. Can I have two homes? Don't I have to pick? If my friends and family moved away from San Francisco, would it still feel like home then?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've come to realize that home isn't necessarily defined by a physical location. If I could gather all my loved ones together somewhere - anywhere - THAT would be home. Heck, stick them in a big, white box and throw in Taboo and Scattergories! (Oh, and maybe Scrabble too. And the Food Network. And Project Runway while we're at it. You know what I mean.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But without that white box? I consider myself officially bicoastal!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115760579703633908?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115760579703633908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115760579703633908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115760579703633908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115760579703633908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/09/bicoastal.html' title='Bicoastal'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115759425782130995</id><published>2006-09-06T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T18:57:39.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-757821.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;A little piece of san francisco ferry building goodness, right here in dc. Yay!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115759425782130995?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115759425782130995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115759425782130995' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115759425782130995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115759425782130995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/09/picture-share.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115712867278664740</id><published>2006-09-01T09:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T22:07:47.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Korean men are sensitve and totally ripped</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/08/30/AR2006083002985.html" target="_blank"&gt;This Washington Post article&lt;/a&gt; is too funny. There's apparently a 'Korean Wave' blazing its way through Asia. I was feeling the wave of my people becoming hot lately, largely due to the popularity of Korean movies among non-Koreans. Taer's Vietnamese hair cutting lady talks his ear off about the latest K-flick every time she trims his locks lately. Tina's Chinese grandma recently asked me if I knew where she could get Chinese-dubbed Korean movies. This story, interestingly, focuses only on the men:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Entertainment industry leaders in Seoul credit the phenomenon to good marketing coupled with an uncanny response throughout Asia to the expressive nature of the South Koreans -- long dubbed the Italians of Asia. A hearty diet and two years of forced military duty, industry leaders and fans insist, have also made young South Korean men among the buffest in Asia. Most important, however, has been the South Korean entertainment industry's perfection of the strong, silent type on screen -- typically rich, kind men with coincidentally striking looks and a tendency to shower women with unconditional love."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course my buff 'Italian' Stallion Taer, out of the kindness of his unconditionally loving heart, felt that he needed to forward this important piece of news to me. I don't know if he read the quote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But to tell you the truth, I still haven't met a real one who fits that description."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115712867278664740?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115712867278664740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115712867278664740' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115712867278664740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115712867278664740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/09/korean-men-are-sensitve-and-totally.html' title='Korean men are sensitve and totally ripped'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115704727389640883</id><published>2006-08-31T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-31T11:01:13.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chivalry on the Metro</title><content type='html'>I fought my way to the only open seat during rush hour and then felt my lower lip spontaneously protrude as another woman slid right in just before me. Sigh. Such is the life of the public transportation commuter. When the man next to her stood up, she joked, "You don't have to get up; we can both sit here!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His response was surprising. "No, Ma'am. Not when there's a lady who's standing." He then turned to me and offered his seat, "Ma'am?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't remember the last time I was referred to as Ma'am, especially by someone older than me. When I last checked, I didn't think I looked like a senior citizen, nor was I pregnant (unless the Baskin Robbins bulge of my belly counts). Usually, being handicapped by living a stylishly painful life in heels is not enough to warrant my bootiliciousness coming in contact with a Metro seat. In the slightest state of shock, however, I thanked him and planted my rump.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady whose seat I originally coveted observantly stated, "You must not be from here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, Ma'am. But I would still give up my seat for a lady if I lived here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That wouldn't last very long."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, Ma'am, it would. My mama would come find me if I didn't mind my manners."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His fellow visiting companions laughed that, "You just about gave these women a heart attack! You're going to be the talk of the water cooler when they get to work!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I repeated my thanks, to which he responded, "You just tell them that a Lousiana [&lt;em&gt;he named some animal which I can't remember&lt;/em&gt;] showed you some Southern hospitality!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the group proceeded to debate whether or not DC/Maryland/Virginia is considered part of the South, considering their relation to the Mason Dixon line. And then they had another conversation about "Y'all" and some other state that says "Y'allses" or something like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Southern gentleman chivalry is something I didn't get to experience in California - that's for sure!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115704727389640883?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115704727389640883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115704727389640883' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115704727389640883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115704727389640883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/chivalry-on-metro.html' title='Chivalry on the Metro'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115660764329574701</id><published>2006-08-26T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-26T08:54:08.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-743295.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I took my first painting class. A true artist probably does not share incomplete works, but i am a mere beginner. It&amp;amp;#39;s so fun! I want to take photography next. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115660764329574701?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115660764329574701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115660764329574701' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115660764329574701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115660764329574701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/picture-share_26.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115627680773539326</id><published>2006-08-22T12:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T13:00:07.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sherry is my new best friend</title><content type='html'>In my endless quest to find Fernet Branca in DC, I decided to give up on the bars (for now). The liquor stores were my next target.  I was told Sherry's Liquors carried everything.  EVERYthing?  Hmmm, I was doubtful, but I decided to check it out anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Excuse me, do you carry Fernet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;guy behind the counter: What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me (dejected): It's an Italian digestif.  Never mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;guy behind the counter: Wait, what does the bottle look like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me (trying not to get my hopes up): It's in a green bottle, and people compare it to Llager, but without the sugar.  It's gross, but it's SO GOOD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;guy no longer behind the counter, but in the aisles: Is it this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE HEAVENS SHONE DOWN ON ME, AND ANGELS SANG IN A HARMONIOUS CHORUS. HE WAS HOLDING A GLORIOUS BOTTLE OF FERNET! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good, and I can survive in DC now.  Praise Sherry's!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115627680773539326?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115627680773539326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115627680773539326' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115627680773539326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115627680773539326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/sherry-is-my-new-best-friend.html' title='Sherry is my new best friend'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115620637974237416</id><published>2006-08-21T17:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-21T17:26:23.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-779742.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I finally found my fernet!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115620637974237416?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115620637974237416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115620637974237416' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115620637974237416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115620637974237416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/picture-share_21.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115593601503521462</id><published>2006-08-18T14:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T14:20:16.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Before you move</title><content type='html'>We really should've pretended we were traveling for a couple weeks and just packed a suitcase (or three) of stuff we'd need. I was good about setting aside our toiletries - I'd be blind without my contact lens stuff, and a girl needs to be able to put on her face in the morning - but I figured we didn't have &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; much stuff, so we'd be fine with just fishing our way through everything else. I'm delusional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taer was rummaging through our mountains of boxes as he asked, "Where are my boxers?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I stuck them in a box." &lt;em&gt;Duh&lt;/em&gt;. "I'm not sure if they're at the bottom of one of the wardrobes, or if I just stuck them in a regular box. I remember putting them with a bunch of your t-shirts."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taer owns about 3,592 t-shirts. Not that I'm counting. After digging through box after box of t-shirts, we were still at a loss. But it also got me thinking about my own down-there status. "Let me know if you find my underwear too, please."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We might have to be the commando couple. Isn't that the name of some superheroes, maybe part of the Justice League?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115593601503521462?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115593601503521462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115593601503521462' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115593601503521462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115593601503521462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/before-you-move.html' title='Before you move'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115578693422943119</id><published>2006-08-16T20:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T20:55:35.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-734229.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Look at the things we are finding as we pack. This is not a cordless phone, people. It is an old school cell phone! I think it was considered small before. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115578693422943119?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115578693422943119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115578693422943119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115578693422943119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115578693422943119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/picture-share.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115568821262885439</id><published>2006-08-15T17:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T17:30:12.653-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='living life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>The biggest purchase of my life</title><content type='html'>More good news to share...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE GOT A HOUSE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been stewing with this goodness for a few weeks now but was afraid of something going wrong.  As of today, we have our new keys in hand, so I can finally share.  It's a townhouse in Woodley Park, and it's the best one we saw, so I no longer care that we lost our bid in Dupont Circle.  Yay!  Our movers are coming on Thursday, so I've gotta continue packing (again!) and will relay more details later. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can say is that I truly believe that everything all works out in the end.  We just have to wade through the icky stuff at times, but a little bit o ick helps us appreciate the yum.  Yu-um!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115568821262885439?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115568821262885439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115568821262885439' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115568821262885439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115568821262885439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/biggest-purchase-of-my-life.html' title='The biggest purchase of my life'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115531268630153001</id><published>2006-08-11T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T09:11:26.706-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='living life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Little discoveries</title><content type='html'>Now that we are finally together after four years of being 3,000 miles apart, we are finding out new things about one other. A few days of "honeymooning" once a month is very different from everyday living; it's been four months of the day-to-day stuff now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy to report that I've found most of these discoveries quite charming. He enjoys a ridiculous amount of mustard on his sandwiches (and the meat in said sandwiches should be folded rather than laid flat). He's really good at maximizing the capacity of the dishwasher when he loads it. My constant reminders to use sunscreen over the years has actually worked; I notice him packing it when he golfs. And my favorite: the man can cook!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some other discoveries are less than charming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man has gas. And a LOT of it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, a little toot here and there is ok, but does he purposely go around swallowing air before he sees me? Is he chowing down a pound of beans for lunch everyday? I don't get it! According to &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1400082315/002-6106356-7185665?v=glance&amp;amp;n=283155" target="_blank"&gt;Why Do Men Have Nipples&lt;/a&gt;, "A person produces about half a liter of farts a day.... Most people pass gas about fourteen times a day." Is this true? Am I the abnormal one? Even fourteen sounds like a lot to me, but there have been times that I swear he's "shared" fourteen with me over the course of a mere hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I asked why he didn't seem so fartilicious before I moved here, he reported, "I used to hold it. That's how much I love you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't you still love me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, but now you've got the ring. I'm all yours, babe!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aw, how romantic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115531268630153001?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115531268630153001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115531268630153001' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115531268630153001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115531268630153001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/little-discoveries.html' title='Little discoveries'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115514899652690317</id><published>2006-08-09T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T11:43:16.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Take On Me and Push It (REAL Good)!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.thebestlegaladvice.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/80s.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't sure why my brother would send me a site called "insuranceandnews" (now "&lt;a href="http://www.thebestlegaladvice.com/" target="_blank"&gt;http://www.thebestlegaladvice.com/&lt;/a&gt;"). But it turned out to be 80's videos! Click on in and blast your way to the funky fresh past!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115514899652690317?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115514899652690317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115514899652690317' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115514899652690317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115514899652690317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/take-on-me-and-push-it-real-good.html' title='Take On Me and Push It (REAL Good)!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115505825667387808</id><published>2006-08-08T13:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-08T13:02:39.036-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Momzilla</title><content type='html'>For some reason, I had the notion in this noggin o mine that my little Korean mama, though cray-jee in other aspects of her life (and mine), would somehow be laid-back and unopinionated in the planning of our wedding. Silly me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Umma, I have exciting news! I went to this wedding event thing, and I found my dress!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, you bought it already?" &lt;em&gt;Uh, oh. She didn't sound happy. Maybe she's upset that she didn't get to go shopping with her only daughter to buy THE dress. I should probably offer to go shopping again with her back home.&lt;/em&gt; "... Because I was thinking about it, and I meant to tell you that I don't think you should get a strapless dress. You have wide shoulders, so something with a little bit of a sleeve or something on the shoulders would look better."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ohhh-kay.&lt;/em&gt; "Well, it is strapless, so that's that. Hey, let's talk about the venue instead. What do you think of Napa? I always liked the idea of getting married at a winery."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No. Too far."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh..... Well, what about the Legion of Honor? That's &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; San Francisco, and our ceremony would overlook the Golden Gate Bridge. You took your wedding pictures at the Palace of Fine Arts. Wouldn't that be pretty?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't like outdoor weddings. The weather is unpredictable."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I think the pictures turn out nice with outdoor ceremonies. We can keep it quick and go inside for the reception."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If all you think about is the pictures, then you're not being very thoughtful to your guests. A wedding should have deep feelings and be sincere. You can take pictures one week before, like we did. There are some very good Korean photographers who take beautiful shots, both outside and in a studio."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In a studio? Cheesy images popped into my mind of Taer popping out from behind a fake tree as I giddily laughed with my hand 'glamorously' perched under my chin. I shuddered at the thought.&lt;/em&gt; "Umma, we can have a meaningful wedding even if it's outside. And we'll take pictures the day of the wedding, before the ceremony. I don't want to have the wedding party get dressed twice, and that's how all my friends did it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you are asking my opinion, then I'm going to tell you. If you want to just plan everything by yourself and just invite me to attend as a guest, then that's fine too. &lt;em&gt;Ma-um de-ro heh.&lt;/em&gt; Do what you want."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom ended up calling 10 minutes later to tell me that my dad thought the Legion of Honor was a good venue, which made her begin to see the merits of the choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad got on the phone, "Hi, honey. It's near Lincoln Park, right? With The Thinker? Yeah, it's very nice there. Your Mommy and I will go check it out together."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my mom tons, but sometimes I'm really thankful for my Daddy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115505825667387808?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115505825667387808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115505825667387808' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115505825667387808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115505825667387808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/momzilla.html' title='Momzilla'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115487894254293065</id><published>2006-08-07T09:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T07:03:09.786-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><title type='text'>Six hours with Bride(zilla)s at Filene's Basement</title><content type='html'>I didn't know if a 5am arrival would ensure that I would find my dream wedding dress at the &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/14195275/" target="_blank"&gt;Running of the Brides&lt;/a&gt;; but I wasn't crazy enough to start my vigil at 4pm on Thursday - which is apparently what it took to be the first person in line. The doors opened at 8am on Friday: that's SIXTEEN hours (which I believe translates to more like 48 hours in Bridezilla time) of waiting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the brides-to-be were there with four of five family members and friends, with many of these "teams" outfitted in bright-colored matching shirts. I was planning to other battle the brides alone, but I ended up dragging along one friend, Janet, who I had gotten to know over the last four years of visiting Taer. The only thing Janet and I had matching that morning was our desire for coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the doors opened everyone did literally RUN inside to scoop up all the dresses they could. Janet and I were only able to grab four dresses before all the racks were completely bare. Many poor girls behind me forlornly cried, “I didn’t get &lt;em&gt;any&lt;/em&gt;!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took my plunder and situated myself next to a mirror before I stripped down to my boy shorts and camisole, right there in the middle of the store. Scavengers hovered nearby, hunting down the unwanted dresses. But we were no dummies; we didn’t just give ours away. We bartered: “What do you have to trade?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After almost three hours of bartering and trying on more dresses, interrupted by the occasional screams and applause of joy as brides found their “one,” I ended up with a pricessy ball-gowny Amsale satin dress. It wasn’t my dream dress, but it was the prettiest one we found. And it was cheap. All the dresses were $249, $499 or $699. I kept picking the most expensive of the choices, but that was still a bargain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t know exactly what I wanted, but I pictured something with more of a slim silhouette and maybe some lace detailing with buttons or something. I figured this one would be a good backup as I continued my hunt in bridal shops. I would’ve been happy walking down the aisle in this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before leaving the store, we decided to take one last spin to check out what came back out on the racks. I was slipping out of another try-on when we spotted a gorgeous Monique Lhullier with a more simple A-line shape and just a touch of beautiful beading – definitely more along the lines of what I envisioned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, OUT OF NOWHERE, this girl came along and snatched up my dress! I stood there, dumbfounded, with my mouth agape. Janet thought quickly and chased her down to ask if I could try it on before she left with it. When I slipped it on, I really felt like a beautiful bride; I was crestfallen that this other girl had it, but I was hoping since she was bigger than me that it would not fit her. When she tried, she couldn’t get the zipper all the way up… Victory was mine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the next thing I knew, she was walking around to find the alteration guy on hand to ask if he could let it out. She also started talking about how she was planning to lose weight before her wedding. I wanted to just tell her that the zipper was only halfway up, so it wasn’t going to fit even with all that, so “just hand it over now, bee-yotch!” But of course I played nice and patiently waited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Janet even whispered to me, “It looked &lt;em&gt;way&lt;/em&gt; better on you.” Well, maybe she said it louder than I thought because someone nearby who heard made the clawing action and said to us, “Me-YOW!” Whoops!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was waiting around for her decision, I was getting upset but trying to keep my cool. I didn’t want to be Bridezilla, but I wanted that dress! Janet checked the racks again for me while we were waiting. She came back with a dress in her hands, and she was excited! It looked a lot more like what I wanted. It had a lace top and a satin skirt with buttons down the back, and when I put it on… What everyone said was true: I just KNEW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A light shone down on me from the heavens, and the angels sang a pefect song. Romona Keveza ended up being my designer, and she blessed me with THE dress for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115487894254293065?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115487894254293065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115487894254293065' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115487894254293065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115487894254293065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/six-hours-with-bridezillas-at-filenes.html' title='Six hours with Bride(zilla)s at Filene&apos;s Basement'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115464095964053398</id><published>2006-08-03T17:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T14:35:59.873-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><title type='text'>Running of the brides</title><content type='html'>If our families didn't come around, we were going to elope. Now that everyone's on the same page, we get to have a real-deal, white dress, people crying (my mother eyes, at the very least, will undoubtedly be quite wet), champagne toasting, dancing to 80's music, more-than-it-should-rightfully-cost wedding!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told myself that I would NOT be a bridezilla. I want to keep things simple; and really, I do NOT want to spend too much on this singular day. Seriously! After all, I'm just happy to be with the love of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I started calling wineries in Napa and other possible wedding sites in San Francisco. Man, they're expensive! Well, I guess if we really want to splurge a &lt;em&gt;little&lt;/em&gt; on the location, that should be ok - right? We'll just keep budgets smaller for other things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, we don't want to skimp on our photographer either, do we? I mean, after all, we'll be looking back on the pictures forever. FOREVER is a &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; long time. We'll be showing them to our grandchildren: our grandchildren should be able to enjoy our wedding too, shouldn't they? Yes, they should. We'll have to cut expenses elsewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, the dress. Lucky for our budget, I haven't been dreaming of my princess dress my entire life, and I'd be happy in just about anything that looks decent on me. But I will admit that I do love me a pretty, pretty dress...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's why I'm planning to go to &lt;a href="http://biz.yahoo.com/prnews/060705/new011.html?.v=64" target="_blank"&gt;Filene's Basement's wedding gown event&lt;/a&gt; tomorrow morning! And, crazy me, I'm going at FIVE stinkin hurt me now o'clock in the morning.  (I still consider that nighttime - ugh!)  Wish me luck.  If I get a $250 dress, I'll be saving us lots and LOTS of money!  Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(That means I can pay a visit to Jimmy or Manolo...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115464095964053398?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115464095964053398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115464095964053398' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115464095964053398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115464095964053398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/running-of-brides.html' title='Running of the brides'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115453577690039420</id><published>2006-08-02T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T09:22:56.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How do I get myself into these situations?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/IMG_1394.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/400/IMG_1394.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115453577690039420?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115453577690039420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115453577690039420' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115453577690039420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115453577690039420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/08/how-do-i-get-myself-into-these.html' title='How do I get myself into these situations?'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115411210519204599</id><published>2006-07-31T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T18:40:29.730-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>All I ever asked of you was that you become a lawyer</title><content type='html'>"I love your daughter very much. We want to get married, and we would like to do it with your blessing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents were finally ready for THE TALK. It had been almost four months since my move from San Francisco to DC. I was calling often, both out of obligation as a dutiful daughter and also because I missed them. Mostly because I missed them. A lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taer and I made sure that his parents were fully prepared to embrace me whole-heartedly into their family, just as my dad requested. He reported that our mission had been accomplished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Jenn has spent time with my parents, and they like her. They, like you, had a difficult time in the beginning, but they are happy to welcome her as their daughter-in-law."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom was ready to accept Taer; it was my dad who was stubbornly holding his ground. I get my stubborn streak from my father. At this point, however, I felt like even he had softened up a lot since I'd left. Before our visit, he told me in a sad voice, "I miss my ddal (daughter)." He didn't want to lose his little girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taer didn't think they would give in without still more of a fight. He was sure they'd "grab him by the nuts" for a while first. (Those were his own words.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Jenn has been an ideal daughter. [&lt;em&gt;Not too much nut grabbing there&lt;/em&gt;.] To us, she is lacking in nothing, and she could be with anyone she wants. She has made it clear that she has chosen you, and we think you are lucky. [&lt;em&gt;Balls are ever so slightly squeezed&lt;/em&gt;.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are both grown adults, and you could have just gone and gotten married without caring what we thought. This whole time, however, you have been asking for our blessing. We appreciate that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Jenn has told us that she wants to be with you. All that we ever asked her to do for us was to become a lawyer. She has done that, and so now we have to give her what she wants in return. Welcome to the family."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not so sure that suffering though three years of grueling law school and enduring the pain-inducing California bar exam is exactly Even Steven with my parents' blessing to marry the man I love. But whatev's - the wedding is on!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115411210519204599?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115411210519204599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115411210519204599' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115411210519204599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115411210519204599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/07/all-i-ever-asked-of-you-was-that-you.html' title='All I ever asked of you was that you become a lawyer'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115411546569077413</id><published>2006-07-28T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T12:39:47.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How humid is it?</title><content type='html'>I've never worn deodorant or anti-perspirant before. (Well, unless you count that one time I bought a stick of Secret in my early teens because I thought was supposed to be using it. I realized that I never needed it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW... I want to rub the stuff all over my body. Do they make anti-perspirant for the face? I've found myself just standing around with the Whitney Houstin upper lip drops. And how 'bout the FRONT of my knees - I didn't even know I had sweat glands there! Ew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aren't I painting a pretty picture of myself?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115411546569077413?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115411546569077413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115411546569077413' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115411546569077413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115411546569077413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/07/how-humid-is-it.html' title='How humid is it?'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115384187443373979</id><published>2006-07-25T08:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T08:37:54.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I have boob envy</title><content type='html'>... except when I see this. I wear a sports bra when I run, even though I'm not sure how much I actually need it. Some of these girls REALLY need it! (Did you know about bra sizes beyond DD? Have you heard of FF or even G?!??)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.shockabsorber.co.uk/bounceometer/shock.html" target="_blank"&gt;http://www.shockabsorber.co.uk/bounceometer/shock.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry I've been so MIA.  It's been BUSY!  I'll update soon - promise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115384187443373979?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115384187443373979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115384187443373979' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115384187443373979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115384187443373979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-have-boob-envy.html' title='I have boob envy'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115281491254273226</id><published>2006-07-13T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T11:21:53.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ice cream cake makes the world a better place</title><content type='html'>I made this cake for Taer's birthday - my first attempt at cake and frosting from scratch!  It was a hit, so I'm sharing.  Ice cream and cake make this world a better place.  Ice cream cake makes me forget that I'm sweating away into pools of grossness in the humid heat of the east coast.  (Actually, it just makes me realize that I have to eat it faster here because it melts too fast... but that's a good excuse to eat TWO helpings!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;RED VELVET ICE CREAM CAKE&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Cake Ingredients:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup (1 stick) butter or margarine, softened&lt;br /&gt;1 1/2 cups granulated sugar&lt;br /&gt;1 teaspoon vanilla extract&lt;br /&gt;2 large eggs&lt;br /&gt;1 (1 ounce) bottle red food coloring&lt;br /&gt;2 cups all-purpose flour&lt;br /&gt;1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder&lt;br /&gt;1 teaspoon salt&lt;br /&gt;1 cup buttermilk&lt;br /&gt;1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda&lt;br /&gt;1 tablespoon white vinegar&lt;br /&gt;1/2 gallon vanilla ice cream (I like using vanilla bean or French)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Buttercream frosting ingredients:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup solid vegetable shortening&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup butter or margarine&lt;br /&gt;1 teaspoon vanilla extract (clear, if available)&lt;br /&gt;4 cups sifted confectioners' sugar (approximately a 1-pound box); sift before measuring&lt;br /&gt;2 tablespoons milk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour (or dust with extra cocoa) two 9-inch round baking pans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In large mixer bowl beat butter, sugar and vanilla extract until creamy. Add eggs and food coloring; blend well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stir together flour, cocoa and salt; add alternately with buttermilk to batter mixture, beating until well blended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a small bowl, stir baking soda into vinegar; fold carefully into batter (do not beat). Pour batter into prepared pans. Bake 30-35 minutes or until wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean.&lt;br /&gt;Cool 10 minutes; remove from pans to wire racks. Cool completely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thaw ice cream until soft, but not melted (about 15 minutes at room temperature). Place in bowl and stir until smooth. Line a 9-inch cake pan with plastic wrap and fill with ice cream, packing down and smoothing top. Place in freezer until firm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;To make the frosting:&lt;/u&gt; Cream butter and shortening with electric mixer. Add vanilla extract. Gradually add sugar, 1 cup at a time, beating well on medium speed. Scrape sides and bottom of bowl often. When all sugar has been mixed in, icing will appear dry. Add milk and beat at medium speed until light and fluffy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Use immediately, or keep icing covered with a damp cloth until ready to use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;To assemble cake:&lt;/u&gt; Place one cake layer on serving plate. Remove and unwrap ice cream layer; place on cake, place remaining cake layer on top. Frost top and sides with buttercream frosting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makes 10-12 servings.&lt;br /&gt;NOTE: Cake can be assembled and frozen up to 24 hours before serving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115281491254273226?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115281491254273226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115281491254273226' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115281491254273226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115281491254273226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/07/ice-cream-cake-makes-world-better.html' title='Ice cream cake makes the world a better place'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115256499990293320</id><published>2006-07-10T13:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-10T13:56:40.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Born Into Brothels</title><content type='html'>Time. I needed time to just shut down for a little while, by myself, for myself. I didn't go anywhere or take time off work, but outside of my daily life, I let myself be purely selfish. And it was good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to be lazy and not do laundry, so the pile grew. For once, keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself felt right, so I didn't write. I didn't work out when I didn't want to, guilt-free. I bought shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now fat and broke and stupid, and I'm living in a big ole mess - ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, it's not really all that bad. But I did need a mental and emotional vacation, so I took it. And I'm feeling better. I've got a good life, but I needed to remind myself of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also gained some perspective over the last couple weeks when I watched &lt;a href="http://www.kids-with-cameras.org/bornintobrothels/" target="_blank"&gt;Born Into Brothels&lt;/a&gt;. These children are born to mothers who work as prostitutes in the red light district of Calcutta. It's heartbreaking to see what their lives entail, but they do find hope through the art of photography. Whenever I vacation abroad, I always come home and become more keenly aware of how rich my life is, in so many respects. I've come back from my mental vacation with a similar mindset.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115256499990293320?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115256499990293320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115256499990293320' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115256499990293320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115256499990293320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/07/born-into-brothels.html' title='Born Into Brothels'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115140870944714506</id><published>2006-06-27T04:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-27T04:45:09.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll take earthquakes over THIS</title><content type='html'>Non-Californians often ask me, "What does an earthquake feel like?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell them that if I'm walking or driving when a smaller tremor hits, I don't feel it. If I'm sitting still, it's similar to having a large train pass by and shake the building. I was at school during the biggie of '89, and even that one wasn't terribly scary for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the crazy thunder and lightning started a few nights ago, followed by news of a flood watch and our flickering lights threatening their failure, THAT was scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does this storm feel like? If all of my worst enemies were hanging out in the clouds and aiming at me with firefighter hoses on full blast... that would leave me feeling relatively safe and dry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115140870944714506?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115140870944714506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115140870944714506' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115140870944714506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115140870944714506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/06/ill-take-earthquakes-over-this.html' title='I&apos;ll take earthquakes over THIS'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115094501057471497</id><published>2006-06-23T07:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T07:49:16.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I shouldn't hold it in</title><content type='html'>I've been feeling kinda &lt;em&gt;eh&lt;/em&gt; for a little while now. I couldn't decide exactly why, but I was getting frustrated with unpromising house hunting, I was &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; missing my family and friends, work was taking a lot of getting used to, blah, blah, blah... As I thought about those things, I felt like an undeserved complainer. Overall, I was still happy. Things with ever-sweet Taer were wonderful, the friends I had made here were all really nice, my job was still better than a lot of others I'd had in the past, and I did like it. I just had to get used to things being different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing was wrong exactly... but it wasn't completely right either. I guess I'll always miss home, at least a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it had to do with the fact that, for the first time, I had to wish my family a Happy Mother's Day and Happy Father's Day all the way from the other side of the country. Maybe it's because I missed getting together for dinner with the girls; and I have oddly only been able to talk to some of my closest friends once or twice in all these months (and most of them, sadly, not even once). These are people I used to talk to almost every day, and often multiple times a day - damn the time difference! Maybe it's because I thought we'd be going back for a visit next week, but we had to postpone the trip I was anticipating with so much excitement. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to hold in the fact that I was feeling a little down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is, I found myself with tears welling up in my eyes up a few nights ago. The more I tried to hold it in, the worse it got, so I finally decided to just let myself burst. All of a sudden, I wasn't just crying, I was BAWLING. My eyes got so puffy I could barely see. I was hyperventilating, which strangely made my lose feeling in my earlobes. Taer asked if I could breathe, and I nodded yes. It felt good to let it out. It hurt, but it felt good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever the situation is, I normally try to stay positive and optimistic. There was actually one day in college when I was particularly tired - I think I had pulled an all-nighter to finish a paper - so I wasn't my usual peppy self. All day, people kept asking me what was wrong. One of my friends even asked if I was mad at him. I guess no one was used to seeing me without a big smile on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another good friend, who was a psychology major, pulled me aside earlier in the year to say, "You know, there are some people who show a happy face to the world all the time... and then they go home and cry by themselves. You know you can always talk to me, right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just laughed. With me, what you see is what you get; I'm quite transparent. I can't hide it when I'm upset; I'm usually as happy as I seem. But right now, I miss things about my old life terribly. I miss my people. And a good cry every once in a while is needed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115094501057471497?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115094501057471497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115094501057471497' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115094501057471497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115094501057471497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/06/why-i-shouldnt-hold-it-in.html' title='Why I shouldn&apos;t hold it in'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115064998170041768</id><published>2006-06-19T12:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-19T09:37:16.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WTF?</title><content type='html'>Taer took me on a "date" Friday night. (He opened my doors and everything!) We had dinner at Addie's, which is a cute, neighborhood-y restaurant in a little, yellow house down the street. It's not mindblowingly innovative cuisine, but it's definitely yummy; and you can't go wrong with the outdoor seating on a nice night. Or so I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smiled across the table as I savored my ribeye and Rosenblum zinfandel. I noticed Taer was ready for a little more wine, so I re-filled his glass; and when I was done, he took the bottle from me to fill my glass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is when the man to my right, white as Wonder bread, leaned over his table and "knowingly" informed his date that Taer and I were obviously following, "... an Asian tradition."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;HUH?&lt;/em&gt; What the heck did this ethnically challenged man know about our traditions, Asian or not? When we're eating family style, Taer also puts food on my plate before serving himself. Is that considered Asian tradition too? I call it being courteous and thoughtful. Silly me. Every time we're nice to each other, will people around us think it's simply because we're Asian?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had gotten used to living in my San Francisco bubble, where it didn't really matter if you were white, black, yellow, or purple. People were themselves. Everyone was different, so no one was different. I'm not saying that I've never experienced racism, nor am I calling this man's comment blatantly racist. But it's ignorant. And it's stupid. I hate ignorant stupidity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I considered saying something to him. Maybe I could've played the role and announced, "Confucius say, You are an idiot!" But I decided to enjoy our dinner and speak loudly in my American born, law school trained, perfect English. There I go again, being all submissive and Asian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being fair, I should note that D.C. is pretty diverse. However, it is very conservative, and people are very set in their narrow ways. This is the first time I've met so many people who don't eat sushi. And this is also the first time I've met so many Republicans. I have a feeling I'll be going through a lot of firsts here. I just hope I'll know how to best deal with them in the future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115064998170041768?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115064998170041768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115064998170041768' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115064998170041768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115064998170041768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/06/wtf.html' title='WTF?'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115041628121364747</id><published>2006-06-15T19:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T17:06:26.246-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='famous folks'/><title type='text'>My Ping golf commercials</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/ping.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/400/ping.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hey, so remember when &lt;a href="http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/02/im-in-two-ping-golf-commercials.html"&gt;I filmed those commercials for Ping golf a few months ago&lt;/a&gt;? Well, they're available online now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go to &lt;a href="http://www.pinggolf.com/drive_across_america.html" target="_blank"&gt;http://www.pinggolf.com/drive_across_america.html&lt;/a&gt; and click on both "Bay Area" and "San Francisco." I'm just an extra; so don't blink, or you might miss me. But that is really me swinging in the San Francisco one!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115041628121364747?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115041628121364747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115041628121364747' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115041628121364747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115041628121364747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/06/my-ping-golf-commercials.html' title='My Ping golf commercials'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115030129052198028</id><published>2006-06-14T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T10:05:05.613-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eye contact and a smile</title><content type='html'>When I read &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2006/06/11/business/yourmoney/11harvard.html?ex=1150430400&amp;en=bfbd0c3ca9c20267&amp;amp;ei=5087%0A" target="_blank"&gt;this article&lt;/a&gt;, it reminded me of the one and only time that I gave out my number at a bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at the Up and Down club, the now-closed, two-level SOMA bar with some ownership involvement by gorgeous model Christie Turlington. Luckily, Christie wasn't around that night to threaten my A-game with her beauty, because let me tell you - I was single, and I was ready to mingle! In fact, I may even be bold enough to say that Christie was the lucky one to not be threatened by &lt;strong&gt;me&lt;/strong&gt; that night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kid.. a little. OK, so I wasn't exactly one of those boy-crazy girls who was constantly on the prowl, but I'll admit that I couldn't help but notice a tall cutie hanging around near the corner of my eye all night. I decided that I wanted to meet him. I believed in a bit of old-fashioned chivalry however, so I didn't want to fly across the room to hunt him down and aggressively attack with my man-eating claws bared. So, rather than making the first move, I decided that I would try to get him to approach me instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told Tina about my plan: "What I'm going to do is make eye contact and then smile. If he thinks I'm cute, he'll come talk to me." Tina simply laughed at me - something she's enjoyed doing as my best friend all these years - but she agreed to be my wingwoman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We "went to the bathroom" together, but I wasn't able to catch his attention on the way there or when we returned. On our third or fourth ladies' room visit, the target finally looked at me. For all I knew, he might have just been wondering why we seemed to have the smallest bladders on the planet. Whatever the case was, our eyes were locked. Phase one of my master plan was complete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There wasn't a lot of time for phase two. I mustered up my best twinkly-eyed, nose-crinkled smile, and I flashed it his way. Quick. Not too intense or crazy or stalker-like. As I was getting ready to look away (also part of the plan), I found him making his way though the crowd toward me. He introduced himself and offered to buy me a drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mission accomplished!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We chatted, and I learned that he was going to Harvard Business School. Ah, so I snagged an HBS boy. My dating radar must have been as selective as Harvard's admissions office. They should hire me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, HBS boy got my number, and we went on a date that week. Out talk over dinner was... like a business interview of sorts. It was fine, and conversation flowed, but that was about it. No sparks, no second date, no nuthin. I don't know if "Earning That Harvard M.B.A." was "Worth It" or not for this HBS guy, but I didn't stick around long enough to find out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115030129052198028?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115030129052198028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115030129052198028' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115030129052198028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115030129052198028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/06/eye-contact-and-smile.html' title='Eye contact and a smile'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115021018051048269</id><published>2006-06-13T06:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T07:49:41.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going to town</title><content type='html'>I'm lucky because my job allows me to work from home when I'm not meeting with clients. Now instead of asking if I'm on tour, Taer asks if I'm "going into town?" (Doesn't that sound like we're country bumpkins?) I've gotta say, there's nothing like rolling out of bed and then sending emails and making phone calls in my pajamas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taer just called and asked, "You're not going into town today? Well, you can eat those noodles in the 'fridge for lunch. Go ahead and go to town on the noodles. Oh, and there's some chicken left from last night too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether or not I go into town and/or go to town on those noodles, I just think it's cute that my man worries about me and tries to take care of me. Is it just me, or does that seem like a bit of a role reversal?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115021018051048269?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115021018051048269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115021018051048269' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115021018051048269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115021018051048269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/06/going-to-town.html' title='Going to town'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-115011531490751343</id><published>2006-06-12T05:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T05:28:36.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-714907.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;We went to watch the lpga event north of baltimore this weekend. The dot on the right is michelle wie. I now have a crush on her, and i want to be her. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-115011531490751343?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/115011531490751343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=115011531490751343' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115011531490751343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/115011531490751343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/06/picture-share_12.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114980806480739256</id><published>2006-06-08T19:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-08T16:07:44.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Personality test - QUESTIONS</title><content type='html'>After talking to a couple of friends, I've decided to post the complete questions to this test. You can find results and instructions on how to communicate with each type in the prior post today. Note that most of us will bounce around to different personality types depending on the situation at hand, and there are also varying extremes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Compare each set of statements. Then circle the letter S, O, I, or D to the left of the statement that best describes you &lt;em&gt;most&lt;/em&gt; of the time in &lt;em&gt;most&lt;/em&gt; situations, and with &lt;em&gt;most&lt;/em&gt; people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. O - Easy to get to know personally in business or unfamiliar social environments.&lt;br /&gt;S - More difficult to get to know personally in business or unfamiliar social environments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. S - Focus conversation on issues and tasks at hand; stay on subject.&lt;br /&gt;O - Conversation reflects personal life experiences; may stray from business at hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I - Infrequent contributor to group conversations.&lt;br /&gt;D - Frequent contributor to group conversations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I - Tend to adhere to the Letter of the Law.&lt;br /&gt;D - Tend to interpret the Spirit of the Law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. S - Make most decisions based on goals, facts, or evidence.&lt;br /&gt;O - Make most decisions based on feelings, experiences, or relationships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I - Infrequent use of gestures and voice intonation to emphasize points.&lt;br /&gt;D - Frequently use gestures and voice intonation to emphasize points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. D - More likely to make emphatic statements like, "This is so!" "I feel..."&lt;br /&gt;I - More likely to make qualified statements like, "According to my sources..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. O - Greater natural tendency toward animated facial expressions or observable body responses while speaking and listening.&lt;br /&gt;S - More limited facial expressions or observable body responses while speaking and listening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. S - Tend to keep important personal feelings private; tend to share only when necessary.&lt;br /&gt;O - Tend to be more willing to show or share personal feelings more freely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. S - Show less enthusiasm than the average person.&lt;br /&gt;O - Show more enthusiasm than the average person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. D - More likely to introduce self to others at social gatherings.&lt;br /&gt;I - More likely to wait for others to introduce themselves at social gatherings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. O - Flexible about how own time is used by others.&lt;br /&gt;S - Disciplined about how own time is used by others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. S - Go with own agenda.&lt;br /&gt;O - Go with the flow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. D - More naturally assertive.&lt;br /&gt;I - More naturally reserved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. D - Express own views more readily&lt;br /&gt;I - Reserve the expression of own opinions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. D - Naturally decide more quickly or spontaneously.&lt;br /&gt;I - Naturally decide more slowly or deliberately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. S - Prefer to work independently or dictate the relationship conditions.&lt;br /&gt;O - Prefer to work with others or be included in relationships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. I - Naturally approach risk or change more slowly or cautiously.&lt;br /&gt;D - Naturally approach risk or change more quickly or spontaneously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take all of your O's and subtract the number of S's. (This is the vertical axis.)&lt;br /&gt;Take all of your D's and subtract the number of I's. (This is the horizontal axis.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Open&lt;/strong&gt; +9&lt;br /&gt;+8&lt;br /&gt;+7&lt;br /&gt;+6&lt;br /&gt;RELATER +5 SOCIALIZER&lt;br /&gt;+4&lt;br /&gt;+3&lt;br /&gt;+2&lt;br /&gt;+1 &lt;strong&gt;Direct&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-9 -8 -7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 +1 +2 +3 +4 +5 +6 +7 +8 +9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Indirect&lt;/strong&gt; -1&lt;br /&gt;-2&lt;br /&gt;-3&lt;br /&gt;-4&lt;br /&gt;LOGICAL -5 DIRECTOR&lt;br /&gt;-6&lt;br /&gt;-7&lt;br /&gt;-8&lt;br /&gt;-9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Self-Contained&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Connect your dots to see what you are, then read the prior post for the rest of the explanation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114980806480739256?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114980806480739256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114980806480739256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114980806480739256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114980806480739256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/06/personality-test-questions.html' title='Personality test - QUESTIONS'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114977620093067338</id><published>2006-06-08T06:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-08T07:52:35.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Personality test</title><content type='html'>I took one of these personality test things for work. I always find them to be kinda fun, and this one was particularly interesting because it focused on how to communicate with each of the four broad personality types. I thought I'd share what I learned. Rather than laying out all of the specific assessment questions, I'm just going to get right to the results. If anyone really wants the questions, I can share those later too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, there are two sets of opposing personality traits. Open or self contained; direct or indirect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;-----------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Open&lt;/strong&gt; people:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Are easy to get to know personally&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Have a greater tendency toward animated facial expressions or observable body responses while speaking and listening&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tend to be more willing to show or share personal feelings more freely&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Show more enthusiasm than the average person&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go with the flow, being flexible about how their own time is used by others&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Self-contained&lt;/strong&gt; people: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make most decisions based on goals, facts, or evidence (as opposed to feelings or experiences)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tend to keep important personal feelings private, sharing only when necessary&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Limit facial expressions or observable body responses while speaking and listening&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Show less enthusiasm than the average person&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go with their own agenda, being disciplined about how their own time is used by others.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;-----------------------------------&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Direct&lt;/strong&gt; people:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Are more naturally assertive and express their own views more readily&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Are more likely to introduce themselves to others at social gatherings&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Naturally approach risk or change more quickly or spontaneously, and naturally decide more quickly or spontaneously&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Frequently use gestures and voice intonation to emphasize points&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;More likely to make emphatic statements like "This is so!" "I feel..."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Indirect&lt;/strong&gt; people:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Are more naturally reserved and reserve the expression of their own opinions&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Are more likely to wait for others to introduce themselves at social gatherings&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Naturally approach risk or change more slowly or cautiously, and naturally decide more slowly or deliberately&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Infrequently use gestures and voice intonation to emphasize points&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;More likely to make qualified statements like, "According to my sources..."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tend to adhere to the Letter of the Law, rather than interpreting the Spirit of the Law&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;-----------------------------------&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;We drew horizontal and vertical axes to see the four quadrants more easily, but there are four basic personality types based on these traits:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Open and Direct&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Open and Indirect&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Self-Contained and Direct&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Self-Contained and Indirect&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OPEN and DIRECT&lt;/strong&gt; people are called "&lt;strong&gt;Socializers&lt;/strong&gt;." They value uniqueness.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;They tend to use a lot of "-est" words and will use multiple "!!!" and "..." when they write.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They want things to be interesting.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You can be interesting to them by being interested in them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OPEN and INDIRECT&lt;/strong&gt; people are called "&lt;strong&gt;Relaters&lt;/strong&gt;." They value relationships. They are face-to-face relationship builders who give a little bit of everybody. They do not want to take risks and hurt someone's feelings.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Because this is the "nice guy," you should be nice to them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When communicating with relaters, give them recommendations, not directives.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Reassure them; they like guarantees.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Give them safe options.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Listen so you can hear what they really mean because they won't tell you directly. If you say to a relater, "Do you want Indian or Thai for dinner tonight?" they might answer, "Both sound good... but did you hear about the new Italian place down the street?"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DIRECT and SELF-CONTAINED&lt;/strong&gt; people are called "&lt;strong&gt;Directors&lt;/strong&gt;." They value results; and they want you to be direct, fast, and to the point. They take more risks than anyone else; and they can be tough.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Use bullet points.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't waste time.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;They want recommendations.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;INDIRECT and SELF-CONTAINED&lt;/strong&gt; people are called "&lt;strong&gt;Logicals&lt;/strong&gt;." They value accuracy, and they like having all the information.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;They are careful and want to take time in making decisions.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Proofread any communication with them because they are likely to think that if you make one mistake, then others may follow.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Give them time to process information you give them, but also provide realistic deadlines.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Can anyone guess what I am?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114977620093067338?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114977620093067338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114977620093067338' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114977620093067338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114977620093067338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/06/personality-test.html' title='Personality test'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114968717235876418</id><published>2006-06-07T06:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-07T06:32:52.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'>House hunting is like shoe shopping</title><content type='html'>It looks cute, and I feel comfortable in it. It's the right size and price. I love it - let's get it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taer, apparently, does NOT seem to think that buying a house is like buying shoes. Or maybe he does, but he's just a whole lot pickier about his shoes than I am about mine. Or maybe I'm figuring out why I own so many pairs that I can't keep track of them all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've fallen in love with three houses. Taer doesn't think any of them are quite right. Am I just a house slut? Will we ever find our perfect home?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114968717235876418?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114968717235876418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114968717235876418' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114968717235876418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114968717235876418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/06/house-hunting-is-like-shoe-shopping.html' title='House hunting is like shoe shopping'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114936370463293635</id><published>2006-06-03T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-03T12:41:52.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-704632.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Eating chocolate and golfing w my babe. Life is good. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114936370463293635?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114936370463293635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114936370463293635' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114936370463293635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114936370463293635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/06/picture-share.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114925665352972684</id><published>2006-06-02T06:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T07:05:12.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This rat packs</title><content type='html'>I finally uploaded a bunch of old pictures that have been in hiding out on my camera for months. As I was cleaning out/packing up my room, Jen E. started pulling out random items I (allegedly) owned, and she asked things like, "Why do you have a random hammer in your room? What are these ridiculous glasses for? What is this huge blue thing???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm convinced that the packrat fairy made frequent visits to my abode and secretly slipped extra special presents for me in random areas. The tooth fairy may leave money under pillows, but the packrat fairy leaves "treasures" absolutely everywhere, only to be found when you're packing up to move and constantly cursing yourself for never throwing away anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm posting these pics because they make me laugh and cringe at the same time. May I learn and remember to live a more minimalist lifestyle so that I will no longer be able to pull things out of my closet and ask myself, "How did THIS end up in HERE?!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/IMG_1130.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1130.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1131.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114925665352972684?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114925665352972684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114925665352972684' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114925665352972684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114925665352972684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/06/this-rat-packs.html' title='This rat packs'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114900558999425603</id><published>2006-05-30T09:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T09:13:10.043-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The opposite of a snow day?</title><content type='html'>As a San Francisco school kid, I never got a "snow day" to stay home from school. Taer talks about those memories fondly, and I get belatedly jealous. I do remember going over many earthquake drills in my younger years, ducking under my desk and even lining up in an orderly fashion in the playground, but that's about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know that these east coasters even get HEAT days off? I don't know what they're called exactly, but I just heard that all of the Baltimore city public schools plus a handful of other schools are closing because of the heat. I thought the east coast was supposed to be tough! Can't these kids just sweat it out? A little heat stroke never hurt nobody. Geez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just kidding. But I can just hear my parents telling their stories of going to school, how they walked though all sorts of weather to get their education. They climbed the uphill roads... uphill both ways, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I take a heat day off for work??? I AM a fragile Californian, after all. If I get too hot, I might melt. Think my doctor will write a note for me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114900558999425603?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114900558999425603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114900558999425603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114900558999425603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114900558999425603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/05/opposite-of-snow-day.html' title='The opposite of a snow day?'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114858995144574541</id><published>2006-05-25T13:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-25T13:45:51.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll be Yin, and you'll be Yang</title><content type='html'>So after all these years of relationship'ing from afar - FOUR years and 3,000 miles for anyone who needs reminding - people have been asking me what it's like to finally be together. Just plain old, everyday, coming home after a long day of work and making dinner and watching TiVo'ed season finales together. Well, let me tell you... it's good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was afraid that I would've gotten too used to our mini-honeymoons, that I might need the excitement. I looked forward to every visit. I was afraid things would get mundane quickly. Mind you, it's only been seven weeks, and I've been doing quite a bit of traveling, but I am enjoying the everyday stuff immensely. I think I've been longing for it. It's like coming home from a really long and really fun vacation. As great as traveling may be, there's nothing like coming home. Now that I'm by Taer's side, I know that I'm finally home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong; we have our differences. Taer's the practical one. Things he's said to me over the weeks include:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How much are you contributing to your 401k?"&lt;br /&gt;"Don't you already have another bag that looks just like that one?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not saying no, but let's think this through. Let's talk tomorrow after we sleep on it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a little less... prudent. I find myself with an unintentional pout on my face and my shoulders often shrug in a "Do you really expect me to have an answer to that?" kind of way. I've come to a realization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a brat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really, &lt;em&gt;really &lt;/em&gt;didn't think I was. I guess our relationships (including with family and friends) make us learn about ourselves. And to be honest, I'm glad Taer's the responsible man. One of us has to be. But that doesn't mean I'll stop pouting...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114858995144574541?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114858995144574541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114858995144574541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114858995144574541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114858995144574541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/05/ill-be-yin-and-youll-be-yang.html' title='I&apos;ll be Yin, and you&apos;ll be Yang'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114840395069936971</id><published>2006-05-23T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T12:46:52.913-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I heart NY and Amtrak</title><content type='html'>I had a lovely girlie weekend in NYC. I seem to have two public transportation options between DC and NY: "the bus" or "the train." At least that's what everyone was telling me. Apparently, the Chinatown bus is the more budget-friendly option, at $25 each way. And it's also supposed to be pretty ghetto. I don't consider myself to be a high-maintenance gal... but I guess I'm not exactly low-maintenance either. I'd say I'm "medium-maintenance," and the bus didn't sound fun at all to my mm self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I took the train. And I've gotta say that Amtrak added to my already lovely weekend! They really do yell, "All aboard!" And the train ticket punching guys wear these cute, navy blue, old school uniforms. There's plenty of leg room, I wasn't bound in by a constricting seatbelt, and no one near me got motion sickness. I'm a fan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate, we shopped, we ate some more. Does it get any better than that? And now I'm busy, back at the grind, so I can't write much more for now. I'm already planning my next trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and if you want to read more about where/what we ate, I &lt;a href="http://www.yelp.com/user_details?userid=v3FadeRQY05oyNU2ergoQw" target="_blank"&gt;Yelped&lt;/a&gt; all about it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114840395069936971?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114840395069936971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114840395069936971' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114840395069936971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114840395069936971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-heart-ny-and-amtrak.html' title='I heart NY and Amtrak'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114797219083351202</id><published>2006-05-18T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T10:09:50.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who needs YouTube or NetFlix or iTunes?</title><content type='html'>Not I! ...Ok, so that's not totally true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here's what happened: I missed the Grey's Anatomy finale on Monday night. Ugh, I know. I KNOW! It heard it was really good, and I was really sad. It had to do with TiVo settings and other things I won't get into. All I knew is that I needed to find it somewhere, somehow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YouTube, who solved my tv woes in the past, was doing me wrong. I couldn't find it! Google Video didn't have it anywhere either. Lucky for me, I've got a tech-savvy little bro. And now that's lucky for anyone else who missed it too. AND this is much BETTER QUALITY that YouTube or Google Video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's whatcha do:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Download Azureus &lt;a onclick="return top.js.OpenExtLink(window,event,this)" href="http://prdownloads.sourceforge.net/azureus/Azureus_2.4.0.2_Win32.setup.exe?download" target="_blank"&gt;http://prdownloads.sourceforge.net/azureus/Azureus_2.4.0.2_Win32.setup.exe?download&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Search for whatever you want to watch on &lt;a onclick="return top.js.OpenExtLink(window,event,this)" href="http://www.torrentspy.com" target="_blank"&gt;http://www.torrentspy.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Download that (which can take some time, depending on how big/long the video is).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;When you go find that wherever you've saved it, you'll get to watch dvd-quality video, right there on your computer! Voila! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And I cried. I'm not normally a crier when it comes to tv or movies, but I cried. Thank goodness for Grey's Anatomy and brothers and Azureus and TorrentSpy!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114797219083351202?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114797219083351202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114797219083351202' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114797219083351202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114797219083351202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/05/who-needs-youtube-or-netflix-or-itunes.html' title='Who needs YouTube or NetFlix or iTunes?'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114787847618818389</id><published>2006-05-17T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-17T08:07:56.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Salsa es muy caliente!</title><content type='html'>I didn't realize that I would need to bring my dancing shoes to my work conference. Literally. Our three-day meeting in Arizona included one "fun activity" night of salsa lessons from a professional dance group. As I was swinging my hips and step step step'ing with one of my colleagues, I was thinking that I'm happy to be working for a company that knows how to have fun. Even though these are no longer the days of start-ups where I ride my razor around and take foosball breaks, this huge - and I mean HUGE - corporation still knows how to let their hair down. Or maybe I should say they know how to let MY hair down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After our lessons, the next step was for each regional group to choose one representative to perform and compete on behalf of the team. Even though I've been with the company for three years, I've only been with this office and division for a month. I was still in my more "quiet and reserved" mode, so I didn't think I'd be chosen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eight of us ended up in a side conference room to learn our routines from our professionals. I was partnered with Eduardo (roll that "r" as you hear his name in your head), a short, dark-skinned guy with highlighted hair, a gold hoop in his ear, a yellow LiveStrong bracelet on his wrist, and a shake in his booty! He had a lot of ideas already, like how we would start with a storyline: I would pretend to almost kiss him, with my hand under his chin, but I would reject him and turn the other way. As I strutted away from him, he would turn me back around by the shoulder and throw my feather boa to the floor before we began our salsa. So spicy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was the first to perform before my peers. With the music blaring and the crowd roaring, I felt like I was on Dancing With the Stars. Except this was more like Dancing In Front of My New Boss, the VP, My New Colleagues... I was hoping this first impression wouldn't be a negative one. I guess everyone learned fast that "shy" is not a word often used to describe me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the judging from three American Idol-like judges, I ended up coming in third, behind one guy wearing a huge afro wig and another man whose hairy tummy protruded out of his t-shirt which stated "I'm With the Band." How could I compete with that? For the remainder of the meeting, people kept coming up to me telling me they enjoyed watching, that I was robbed, etc. Even when I'm not trying to be a ham, I must just scream oink oink!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, if nothing else, my name is now known. Even some people from the home office who didn't make it to the meeting told me they'd &lt;em&gt;heard&lt;/em&gt;. I have a feeling I won't be hearing the end of this anytime soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114787847618818389?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114787847618818389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114787847618818389' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114787847618818389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114787847618818389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/05/salsa-es-muy-caliente.html' title='Salsa es muy caliente!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114770651002543229</id><published>2006-05-15T08:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T08:21:50.043-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I have definitely done all of these dance moves</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dMH0bHeiRNg"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dMH0bHeiRNg" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my body may have spontaneously performed each and every one of these in just the past two wedding weekends.  Hilarious!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114770651002543229?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114770651002543229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114770651002543229' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114770651002543229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114770651002543229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-have-definitely-done-all-of-these.html' title='I have definitely done all of these dance moves'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114739800860393558</id><published>2006-05-11T18:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-11T18:40:11.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-708603.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Me and Kris in arizona for work. This is salsa night!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114739800860393558?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114739800860393558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114739800860393558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114739800860393558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114739800860393558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/05/picture-share_11.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114718447655676558</id><published>2006-05-09T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-09T07:21:16.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wanna bet?</title><content type='html'>Taer and I were watching Grey's Anatomy when he said, "Hey, that's your guy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at the scruffy dude being pulled in on a stretcher. "What guy?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know. Harold and Kumar."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;a href="http://imdb.com/name/nm0158626/" target="_blank"&gt;John Cho&lt;/a&gt;?" The actor also went to Berkeley, where I remember thinking, &lt;em&gt;Who's the cutie who works at that cafe? &lt;/em&gt;I found out when I started seeing that same cutie pop up on both the big and small screens, one of his notable roles being the M.I.L.F. guy in American Pie. And I decided I had a crush on him. Maybe it's because I admire him for taking his English degree and bravely going after an acting career instead of being pushed into a more dutifully conventional Korean American pursuit (uh, such as law school). Maybe I'm just jealous. Maybe he's just plain cute. Whatever it may be, my crush is my crush. And it's enough to make Taer call him my guy. I looked back at the Mr. Miyagi-looking man on our tv, and I replied, "No way! His face is too big."&lt;br /&gt;"Well, he's lying down, and that neck brace could make him look different too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept analyzing. &lt;em&gt;Not&lt;/em&gt; cute. "That's &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wanna bet?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What should we bet?" I started to think of all the things we could wager. My last bet resulted in &lt;a href="jennipah.blogspot.com/2005_11_01_jennipah_archive.html" target="_blank"&gt;a good male friend wearing a very female-sized t-shirt&lt;/a&gt; of mine for a week. I could do the same to Taer. Or I could ask him to be my slave, and the next time we played poker with his friends, I would then make him dance like a monkey. Or, even better, like Britney Spears in her Slave for You video. I could make Taer go grocery shopping in only his boxers. "It's on!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK... How 'bout the loser has to fold the entire next load of laundry by themselves?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Snooze&lt;/em&gt;. Laundry folding didn't sound nearly as fun as half-naked dance routines. &lt;em&gt;But&lt;/em&gt; I had to admit that it was actually a very enticing bet in the end. Man, we really &lt;em&gt;are&lt;/em&gt; an old married couple already!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OK!" I watched anxiously as we &lt;em&gt;bloop bloop bloop&lt;/em&gt;'ed our TiVo past the commercials. When Mr. Miyagi was sitting up without his neck brace... he was magically transformed into the object of my crush. "Oh, no!" How could John Cho let me down? How could he look so not cute?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate laundry. Next time, I'm going to bet that the loser has to get a bikini wax.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114718447655676558?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114718447655676558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114718447655676558' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114718447655676558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114718447655676558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/05/wanna-bet.html' title='Wanna bet?'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114710364648801179</id><published>2006-05-08T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-09T06:08:01.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-746488.jpg" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;One difference in the east is what they call their milk. My californian nonfat is now called skim. Even at starbucks, i now order a tall SKIM caramel macchiato.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114710364648801179?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114710364648801179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114710364648801179' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114710364648801179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114710364648801179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/05/picture-share_08.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114685372902803933</id><published>2006-05-05T11:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T11:29:08.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-729028.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;A lot of people who live in our condo are a bit older than us. They have activities and lectures about arthritis medication. I&amp;amp;#39;m thinking about playing bingo.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114685372902803933?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114685372902803933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114685372902803933' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114685372902803933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114685372902803933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/05/picture-share.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114604190401682704</id><published>2006-05-03T12:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T12:14:53.093-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='living life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Leaving their laps</title><content type='html'>My mom emerged from the other room with a clipping from the Korean newspaper. My parents have pointed out newspaper articles and shared inspiring stories with us for as long as I can remember. My dad even gave me a book titled "&lt;strong&gt;The Real Coming of Age&lt;/strong&gt;" for my 30th birthday, claiming it came highly recommended by Dr. Phil. How or why he knew that, I didn't ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents' attempts often made me laugh and/or sigh in exasperation, but I did always remember them. This particular news article ranked the top schools in the U.S. "These are the medical schools, law schools..." My mom pointed to each section as she spoke. "And look at this! Do you see this? The top schools tied for number one for English literature are Harvard, Berkeley and Yale. &lt;em&gt;Berkeley English major&lt;/em&gt; - that's you! I wish you had more drive. You are so talented, you could be anything!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You are good with people, and you are a good speaker. You could be a politician!" &lt;em&gt;Sure&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;I could... if I had any interest in politics. A politician?!?? Wasn't seeing me wear the ill-fitting straight jacket of law school for three years of my life enough for them?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to tell my mom that she didn't have to talk to me as though I were moving to another country. My move to the east coast was not equivalent to her move to the States years ago, when she left her parents in Korea. But I knew she wouldn't listen. This talk was as much for herself as it was for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We won't have time for these kinds of talks anymore. &lt;em&gt;Yuhl-shim-ee sah-ruh. &lt;/em&gt;Put 110% into everything. Live life fully and honestly, and you will be fine. You don't understand what I am saying now, and you think we are silly. Someday, when you have your own kids, you will understand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand &lt;em&gt;now&lt;/em&gt;. I feel her mother's love and pain of losing me &lt;em&gt;now&lt;/em&gt;. I understand that she feels the pain of not being more thoughtful of her own mother's sadness during her departure, how difficult it was that she only got the chance to go back to Korea a handful of times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad continued the heartfelt talk and brought tears to my eyes. "First of all, I want to tell you that your Mommy and I are very proud of you. You have been a joy as a daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now you are [something in Korean I couldn't understand]; it means you are 'leaving our laps.' This time comes for everyone, but I hope you know that you can always call us to talk about anything. Don't forget that this will always be your home too. We will support you as much as we can. I did not have that because my own father passed away when I was young. I had to come here on my own and support myself, and I made a lot of mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You can always call us. Always. You make your own decisions now. We will support you in any decision you make. We love you very much."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my parents dropped me off at the airport, my mom insisted on helping me roll one of my huge bags inside. I think it may have been bigger than her 5' frame, and I knew I could handle it on my own, but she insisted. And no one can win in an argument against my insistent Korean mama. No matter how big, old or responsible I get, I know I will always be her baby daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad hugged me and simply instructed, "Call your Umma often."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114604190401682704?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114604190401682704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114604190401682704' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114604190401682704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114604190401682704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/05/leaving-their-laps.html' title='Leaving their laps'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114634114785954893</id><published>2006-04-29T13:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-29T13:05:48.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-747859.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I stayed up all night to get this done before my early morning flight. I am now back on the east side. Home. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114634114785954893?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114634114785954893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114634114785954893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114634114785954893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114634114785954893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/picture-share_114634114785954893.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114629542024945781</id><published>2006-04-29T00:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-29T00:23:40.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-720249.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Almost done, with a little help from my friends. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114629542024945781?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114629542024945781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114629542024945781' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114629542024945781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114629542024945781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/picture-share_29.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114626202129222238</id><published>2006-04-28T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T15:07:02.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-721292.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Progress...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114626202129222238?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114626202129222238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114626202129222238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114626202129222238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114626202129222238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/picture-share_28.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114620535421966837</id><published>2006-04-27T22:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T23:22:34.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unexpected</title><content type='html'>I really didn't expect packing to take this long. I mean, I AM a pack rat, and I DO have a ton of stuff, but... I still didn't think it'd be &lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; bad. I had to "hire" my cousin, Jason, to help me today. He shred paper, made a run to Goodwill and dropped off boxes at my parents' for me. He's the best! AND he's coming back again tomorrow - on his BIRTHDAY!  Man, I suck.  But DHL is coming to pick up boxes in the afternoon, and my room isn't looking that much better than the picture I took a couple days ago. I need help. (This is probably true beyond just my room, but I'm tackling it one thing at a time.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got back from dinner with the girls.  I meant to pack some more, but I'm tired and overstimulated, so I think I'll just rest up and refuel for tomorrow. We were celebrating my new east coast life, Sindy's job, and something unexpected. As we were talking about pets, one of the girls mentioned that she and her husband were talking about getting a pet too. And she reached in her bag to produce... a sonogram picture!  It's "our" first baby! I've been fighting tears all week, and this was the thing to finally get me to well up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if my room isn't all packed by tomorrow afternoon, more tears may fall. So I'm out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114620535421966837?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114620535421966837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114620535421966837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114620535421966837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114620535421966837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/unexpected.html' title='Unexpected'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114604189593747894</id><published>2006-04-26T01:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T01:58:16.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-795937.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I just finished helping my brother move a bunch of my furniture for storage before his move. This is what is left. Oh. My. Goodness! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114604189593747894?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114604189593747894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114604189593747894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114604189593747894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114604189593747894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/picture-share_26.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114585746914652237</id><published>2006-04-23T22:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T22:44:29.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good to be back</title><content type='html'>I got back to San Francisco on Saturday, and I practically went straight to my going away party that night.  Today was family day, and I have a lot to report about all of that, but I'll have to get to it later.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still on east coast time, so I'm heading to bed soon.  Beyond my sleepy state, my SORE legs are making me want to crawl into bed.  We went out Friday night, and I Dropped It Like It's Haaawt one too many times on the dance floor.  (I literally touched the floor every time Snoop commanded to drop, park or pop it.  Um, I was doing squats.)  My thirty-year old thighs are screaming at me now for trying to keep up with my twenty-year old spirit.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing is, I'm pretty sure I'll still be attempting those moves when I'm 64.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114585746914652237?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114585746914652237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114585746914652237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114585746914652237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114585746914652237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/good-to-be-back.html' title='Good to be back'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114563686938554387</id><published>2006-04-21T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T09:27:49.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meet the Parents</title><content type='html'>I had two basic goals to accomplish in my first two weeks here:&lt;br /&gt;1. Get settled into my new job. (And tell my parents that I "got the job.")&lt;br /&gt;2. Meet Taer's parents and win them over with my charm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goal one? Check!&lt;br /&gt;Goal two? Well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did meet Taer's parents.  They, like my parents, were opposed to our relationship because of the last name thing.  Our fathers, more specifically, were the ones who were very stubbornly standing by their beliefs.  We felt our mothers bending in recent months.  Personally, I think they were just ready to marry us off after all these years so they could enjoy being grandmothers soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad has decided that he would consider accepting it all if - and only if - Taer's family accepted it first.  Not only did my father want their acceptance; he wanted them to embrace me happily into their family.  He didn't want me to become an unloved daughter-in-law.  He was proud of me, probably a bit more than he should be, and he felt that anyone would be lucky to welcome me into their family.  So that was our the plan, and it wasn't an easy one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taer's dad threatened to disown him too.  We're totally living a modern day Romeo and Juliet story... except that we're BOTH Capulets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a relatively quiet car ride and a bit of small talk at dinner, Taer brought up the serious stuff.  Both of his parents asked, "So do you HAVE TO marry each other?"  I'm pretty sure they knew the answer to that one.  We didn't put ourselves through four years of traveling 3,000 miles back and forth for nothing.  "Well, it's obvious that you'll go through this no matter what we say..." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, amazingly, they said ok.  They weren't overjoyed, but they didn't fight nearly as hard as we thought they would.  Taer's dad actually &lt;em&gt;apologized &lt;/em&gt;to me for the past four years.  And his mom &lt;em&gt;hugged &lt;/em&gt;me when we said goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly but surely, it's working out.  Taer and I recently got fortunes in our cookies which read: "The three greatest physicians are nature, time and patience." and "There will soon be a cake in your future." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that waiting so long to be together has worn our parents down.  Here comes the wedding cake!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114563686938554387?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114563686938554387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114563686938554387' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114563686938554387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114563686938554387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/meet-parents.html' title='Meet the Parents'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114554995083092140</id><published>2006-04-20T09:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T09:19:11.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-750830.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;This is the prettiest Bank of America I have ever seen in my life.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114554995083092140?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114554995083092140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114554995083092140' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114554995083092140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114554995083092140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/picture-share_20.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114546207292682291</id><published>2006-04-19T08:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T09:00:30.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You know what else sucks?</title><content type='html'>Being the new kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family moved a lot when I was growing up, so I ended up going to a new school every two years. I was &lt;em&gt;always&lt;/em&gt; the new kid. Don't get me wrong - being new has its perks too. You get a lot of attention, and everyone wants to be the one to show you the bathrooms and how the rules of the cafeteria and water fountains work. Kids like it when you share your exotic candy with them, like Pocky and Yan Yan. But you also go through a trial period; you're tested on whether or not you fit, and those first few weeks can make all the difference in getting "in" or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I generally adjusted pretty quickly and made friends and got invited to the popular kids' parties. I found that if I was nice enough, without being annoyingly dorky or overbearing, that was good enough. But every once in a while, there was an exception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember Trisha, the "smart" girl when I transferred to Valley View in fourth grade. She was nice for a day or so, and then all of a sudden, she turned on me. She decided to start being mean for no reason whatsoever. (Later, I realized that she may have been threatened that I was kinda "smart" too.)  She said mean things like, "You have poison OAK, like the OAK RIDGE BOYS!"  I don't know what that meant exactly, but I wasn't used to anyone being so mean to me.  I tried to be nice, and everyone else was nice.  Trisha moved a few months later, and life was back to normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the most part, I've found that if I extend genuine kindness and respect to people, then I get it back in return. It's pretty easy. Usually. But there's always a Trisha somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the sales guys I work with got upset at me yesterday. It wasn't a big deal, and it had to do with adjusting to each other's working styles. It wasn't awful, but it wasn't fun for me. It was hard because I was trying my best, and that's usually enough. As the newest one in the office, I didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with anyone so early. I know I have to deal with things like this during my transition, but it was the first time that I really, &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; missed my old job. This wouldn't have happened there. I was in a good groove with everyone I worked with before. And then I missed a lot of things about being home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, I missed a lot of things about being &lt;em&gt;in San Francisco&lt;/em&gt;. I can't call it "home" anymore. I shouldn't. I have to start calling DC home, or I won't fully adjust here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could just hurry up and get past this whole "new kid" phase. Or maybe I'll try offering out &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pocky" target="_blank"&gt;Pocky&lt;/a&gt; at the office in the meantime...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114546207292682291?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114546207292682291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114546207292682291' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114546207292682291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114546207292682291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/you-know-what-else-sucks.html' title='You know what else sucks?'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114537212165542690</id><published>2006-04-18T07:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T07:55:21.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You know what sucks?</title><content type='html'>Realizing I left my cell phone at home. It's like a limb or something. I feel incomplete. What if someone is calling me &lt;em&gt;right now&lt;/em&gt; to tell me I've won the Nobel Prize? And what if I'll lose out on it if I don't accept in the next 10 minutes? Hey, it could happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd rather forget my underwear than my phone. Panties don't win the Nobel Prize.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114537212165542690?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114537212165542690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114537212165542690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114537212165542690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114537212165542690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/you-know-what-sucks.html' title='You know what sucks?'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114527446085464796</id><published>2006-04-17T04:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T05:10:43.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My week, in pictures</title><content type='html'>We're driving with the top down here, enjoying the gorgeous weather. Taer has been letting me practice driving stick. Yes, I've been riding Taer's stick - go ahead and insert your own dirty joke here.&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/IMG_1058.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1058.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We didn't actually go to the arboretum, but I just liked the sign. I think we take 495 a lot, but I'm not totally sure. I don't know the roads yet. With my sense of direction, it's going to take me forever to learn. Does anyone have any opinions or suggestions on GPS systems?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1060.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Here's that immigration march during my second day of work in D.C.&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1065.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Ah, yes, the selling of ice cream during the march. So very American!&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/IMG_1068.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1068.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The parks downtown are actually quite pretty. The east coast definitely has a different "flava."&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1073.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt; We were getting drinks by the water when I took this shot. I'm not used to hanging out near water without feeling cold - there are some advantages to having actual seasons. (I know I'm saying that now, but ask me how I feel again when it's not spring or fall.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1070.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I spent Easter with Yun and a lot of cute kids. (Yun is the friend who introduced me to Taer!) &lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1081.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Yun's daughter, Hailey, is a CUTIE! She was too little to actually participate in the Easter Egg Hunt this year, but those other kids better watch out next year!&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1082.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Olivia is William's big sister, and they're both so cute, I always want to BITE right into them!&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1093.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Olivia is picking William's nose. It was kinda gross, but it was mostly SO CUTE!&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/IMG_1095.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Monday!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114527446085464796?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114527446085464796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114527446085464796' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114527446085464796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114527446085464796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/my-week-in-pictures.html' title='My week, in pictures'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114502972818344926</id><published>2006-04-14T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T08:48:48.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth</title><content type='html'>"Guess what? The interviews went really well, and I met some of the big clients; and I got the job!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what I finally told my parents a couple days ago. It's the truth... it's just a little bit of a delayed truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I figured they were having a hard enough time dealing with the whole engagement thing. With my dad already threatening to disown me, I didn't want to throw a whole other piece of craziness into my already complicated life plot. And if my new boss wasn't willing to work with me and my sensitive family situation, I wouldn't have taken the job. But she's been great and has allowed me some flexibility with going back and forth until my family was comfortable. So I took the job. And I told my parents that I was "trying out" for it in this first week here to give them some time to get used to me being gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they're comfortable. I told them I had a great opportunity in D.C., which I do. It's one I wouldn't be able to have anywhere else because I'm working with federal government agencies. It's unique. And I'd be looking at more money. All those things translated well into my parents' ears. Of course, those ears would have preferred that I could've kept my own ears (and the rest of the physical me) close to home. But I've lived less than an hour's drive from my family my entire life. It's like I said before, I feel like I'm 30, going on 18. I'm finally growing up. Sort of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom was sad. That's expected. My dad was sad too. But beyond that, they're both happy for me. They congratulated me and said they were proud of me. And neither of them brought up the fact that they knew I was doing this to be with Taer. They focused on the fact that this was a good career move for me; they focused on me. And I'm glad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; glad that they haven't asked where I'm staying. I think my family likes to live in happy ignorance sometimes. To this day, I'm pretty sure they don't know that I was living with two huge, hockey-playing boys for the past two years. If we had dinner together in the city, they would simply drop me off at my front door and kiss me goodbye. "Don't ask, don't tell" isn't just for the military.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now it's all out. Well, &lt;em&gt;almost&lt;/em&gt;. Now we're back to tackling the engagement thing again. But I'll have to take it all one step at a time. For now, I'm happy. I'll be back in San Francisco in a week, and I'll have a full week to pack up the rest of my stuff and hang out with my family and friends. And then? Well, I don't want to be overly hopeful, but it's turning out to be a truly good Good Friday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114502972818344926?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114502972818344926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114502972818344926' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114502972818344926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114502972818344926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/truth-whole-truth-and-nothing-but.html' title='The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114494835736730199</id><published>2006-04-13T10:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T10:12:38.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Picture Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-757367.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I have been getting comments on my style all week. I don&amp;amp;#39;t think my look quite fits the conservative dc vibe. Oh well!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114494835736730199?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114494835736730199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114494835736730199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114494835736730199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114494835736730199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/picture-share.html' title='A Picture Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114486201577981226</id><published>2006-04-12T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T10:13:35.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blunching</title><content type='html'>I'm blogging and lunching. I'm blunching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a good first few days as an east coaster. I feel tougher already. No more avocados for this Washingtonian! Just kidding. Give me my guac, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday was a gorgeous day. After I got off the Metro, I had a view of the Washington Monument as I walked to work. And in the afternoon, my new boss and I took a walk around the corner to check out the &lt;a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/04/10/AR2006041000844.html?sub=new" target="_blank"&gt;immigration march&lt;/a&gt;. I've got to admit that it feels pretty good to be around so much history and political activity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I'd be really sad for a while, but I'm glad to report no such thing. At least not so far. Of course I miss tons of people and other things about San Francisco, but it's been nice being a homebody with Taer. I've even turned into a bit of a morning person! I've never been one to stay at home much, nor do I usually see the sunrise, but that's what I can say about myself now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it hasn't even been a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think it's actually sunk in yet. Uh, maybe that'll happen when I tell my parents. But that's a whole other story too. It's time for getting back to work and post-blunch coffee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114486201577981226?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114486201577981226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114486201577981226' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114486201577981226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114486201577981226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/blunching.html' title='Blunching'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114462191840474306</id><published>2006-04-10T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T17:47:04.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Washingtonian</title><content type='html'>I hope my flight isn't any indication of what I can expect from my new life as a Washingtonian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started with the cab ride.  My taxi driver talked and talked about how it's as good thing he speaks more than one language because he can listen to the different sources of news and know what's really going on with Bush.  Awful, awful Bush.  I don't usually mind chatty, Bush-bashing drivers, but I was really tired and wasn't in the mood.  I was running late for my flight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when I turned in my luggage for curbside check-in, I was DENIED because I was over my weight limit.  I guess too much stuff in my bags is better than too much junk in my trunk, but it was annoying nonetheless. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally got to the gate with only two minutes to spare.  It was a full flight, and I found myself seated next to an older Korean couple.  The man got up to let me in for my window seat, but the woman tried to remain seated.  She pointed at my seat with her hands palm side up, indicating that she wanted me to squeeze past her.  I'm sorry to say that I'm more than a mere 4" thick, so that would've required me to CLIMB OVER HER.  Sorry, ajuma, but my mama and halmunee (grandma) are the only older Korean women who can ask me to make myself that uncomfortable for them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After she let me in, I took my window seat and reclined it as soon as I could.  The man behind me audibly complained, "Oh, Christ."  I must've hit his knees.  And then he started PUSHING the back of my chair, as though I would give up the space to which I was entitled.  I tried to ignore his nudges and pushes (even though it kept happening through the flight).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I picked up the in-flight magazine.  The cover showcased the feature story, "Three Days in San Francisco."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I immediately began tearing up, and my nostalgia only worsened as I read the actual story.  It listed some of my favorite San Francisco spots, and though my tears didn't actually fall, I found myself with a sniffly nose. *Sniff*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I looked over at the Korean ajuma next to me to discover that she was wearing a huge straw hat and one of those dont-infect-me-with-your-virus masks.  You know, the kind you see people wearing in Asia.  She must've thought I had something contagious.  I practically burst out laughing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And THEN that same ajuma got sick. She used her own sick bag, her husband's bag, my bag...  I wasn't sure why she didn't excuse herself to the lavatory, but I think it was some powers that be somewhere trying to give me the hardest flight possible.  If I want to be with my love, I apparently have to go through as many hurdles as possible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I landed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was officially no longer a Californian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weekend was relatively uneventful.  It felt like any other visit to see Taer.  Today was the first "different" day because we both woke up and WENT TO WORK!  My first day was good; I'll write about it later.  My man is making dinner, and I'm going to go help now.  It's good to be home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114462191840474306?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114462191840474306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114462191840474306' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114462191840474306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114462191840474306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/washingtonian.html' title='Washingtonian'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114469222862128648</id><published>2006-04-10T11:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T11:05:21.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Multi Media Share!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;img width="300" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/0/unnamed-image-1-728621.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Sorry i have not been writing. Busy getting settled in. Good to know some things are the same in the east coast. Here is my desk, post lunch. Will try to update later.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114469222862128648?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114469222862128648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114469222862128648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114469222862128648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114469222862128648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/multi-media-share.html' title='A Multi Media Share!'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114439154891282993</id><published>2006-04-06T23:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-06T23:32:28.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird weird weird</title><content type='html'>I've been packing all night, in between helping my roommates interview potential new roommates. I'm in denial. As happy as I am to be starting my new life with the man I love, there's a thick layer of sadness underneath it all. I'm sad to be leaving the place I've called home for 30 years. I love my life here! I've got the best friends a girl could ask for, a loving family, awesome roommates, and a fantastic job in the most amazing city... but I know it's the right thing for me to move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I start my new job Monday and will be back at the end of the month to pack up the rest of my things. I'll just think of it as a long visit until then...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114439154891282993?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114439154891282993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114439154891282993' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114439154891282993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114439154891282993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/weird-weird-weird.html' title='Weird weird weird'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114413308608543992</id><published>2006-04-05T22:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-05T23:00:28.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Restaurant Menus</title><content type='html'>In this icky weather and as I've been packing my arse off at home, I've found myself wishing I could just order in every night. Unfortunately, I sometimes have a hard time finding menus for all of my restaurants of choice. WELL...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look what I found! &lt;a href="http://www.menupages.com/start.asp" target="_blank"&gt;The Menu Pages&lt;/a&gt; has online menus for San Francisco, NYC, Boston and Chicago! They even specify joints which deliver, as well as 24-hour venues. Of course it figures that I would just discover this during my last official week here. Hmph!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(OK, I've pretty much been eating out every night to make sure I don't miss any final dining destinations, so this is a bit of a lie.  I wouldn't have used it this week... but I thought this would make a good post. Also, I'm too stressed to think straight, so rather than laying my negative vibes out there, I figured I'd share some useful information instead. So there you go. Back to work for me!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114413308608543992?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114413308608543992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114413308608543992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114413308608543992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114413308608543992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/restaurant-menus.html' title='Restaurant Menus'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114417758065693727</id><published>2006-04-04T12:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T12:06:20.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>At 1:02 (and 3 seconds)</title><content type='html'>It will be 01:02::03 04/05/06!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that cool? Aren't I a nerd? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't take credit for thinking of this; I heard it on tv this morning. :) 01.02.03.04.05.06 won't happen again for 100 years.  You heard it from me (if you didn't also hear it on tv).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114417758065693727?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114417758065693727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114417758065693727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114417758065693727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114417758065693727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/at-102-and-3-seconds.html' title='At 1:02 (and 3 seconds)'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114411328374688080</id><published>2006-04-03T22:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-03T22:24:56.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Robots in Korea?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/02robot.400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/320/02robot.400.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;According to &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/02/world/asia/02robot.html?ex=1144209600&amp;en=8ca1f0c6bb3e86d1&amp;amp;ei=5087" target="_blank"&gt;this New York Times article&lt;/a&gt;, "by 2007, networked robots that, say, relay messages to parents, teach children English and sing and dance for them when they are bored, are scheduled to enter mass production. Outside the home, they are expected to guide customers at post offices or patrol public areas, searching for intruders and transmitting images to monitoring centers. If all goes according to plan, robots will be in every South Korean household between 2015 and 2020."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what's going on here! &lt;a href="http://imdb.com/title/tt0327162/" target="_blank"&gt;The Stepford Wives&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;happened&lt;/em&gt; to be on cable &lt;em&gt;just&lt;/em&gt; the other day, so I watched it for the first time. And now I'm reading about these robots in Korea. Coincidence? I think not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just kidding. But it sure would be great to have one of those robots right about now. I wouldn't make mine sing and dance and search for intruders; I'd have it pack my room and wrap up work stuff for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh. I'd better get back to it. Let me know if you hear of one that's available before 2007... like, tomorrow would be nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114411328374688080?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114411328374688080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114411328374688080' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114411328374688080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114411328374688080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/robots-in-korea.html' title='Robots in Korea?'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114405047901981451</id><published>2006-04-02T23:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-03T15:10:29.426-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Eating ramen and springing forward with the 'rents</title><content type='html'>I took my parents to &lt;a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/y_Vpeb9pYPQlOuIlVn0rxg" target="_blank"&gt;Santa Ramen&lt;/a&gt; for linner, and when we were all done, my mom decided she wanted to take her leftover broth home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;me:&lt;/strong&gt; Umma, I don't think you can do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mom:&lt;/strong&gt; Why not? The soup is the best part. I can just make some noodles at home, and if I put that in, it'll be so good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I never thought that my mom was ghetto; but at that moment, I was trying to picture whether or not she'd look good with gold-capped teeth. Or teef.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;me:&lt;/strong&gt; The noodles here are good too! Anyway, this is a small place which takes pride in serving good bowls of ramen. The orders take so long already, I'm pretty sure they don't have to-go containers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was not to be deterred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mom:&lt;/strong&gt; [to waitress] Do you have one of those soup boxes, so I can take this with me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;waitress:&lt;/strong&gt; No, we only have Ziplock bags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;me:&lt;/strong&gt; [in my head] Please don't take it. Please don't take it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be relief, my mom decided that the plastic baggie might not be ideal. Until my brother called. He wanted to see if we were still out to dinner, but I told him we were finishing up. He said it was cool, no biggie, and we hung up. But my mom heard. And a mother will do anything to feed her hungry young - even when that young takes form in a 27-year old son who can easily feed himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mom:&lt;/strong&gt; Jimmy can eat this! [And then, to waitress] Can I have that Ziplock after all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we walked out of the restaurant with a broth-filled plastic bag in hand. But that's not the end of it. Oh yes, there's more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my mom asked me to help her "spring forward" the clocks in her car. She ordered my dad to learn so that he could do it next time. I showed my dad which buttons to push, and just as he was ready to set the time to 7:10...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mom:&lt;/strong&gt; Wait! Wait until I tell you to set it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She then flipped open her cell phone and looked at her watch so that we could set the time not only to the right minute, but to the correct &lt;em&gt;second&lt;/em&gt;. My gold-toofed mama is not only ghetto, she's also super anal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;me:&lt;/strong&gt; Don't you want to maybe put it ahead a minute or two?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mom:&lt;/strong&gt; No. [a few seconds later] Almost... NOW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And THEN we had to go through the same thing again with the clock on the installed radio in the car too. My dad decided to tease her a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;dad:&lt;/strong&gt; I'm going to push it now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mom:&lt;/strong&gt; NOOOO!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;dad:&lt;/strong&gt; OK, then... NOW?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mom:&lt;/strong&gt; NO, wait until I tell you! HOney!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She mentioned that it used to drive her crazy that one clock was two minutes slow before, and the other one was four minutes behind. She couldn't have been happier when everything was set just as she wanted. My mom's clocks were in sync, and the entire family would be happily fed. All was right with the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my dad and I just laughed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114405047901981451?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114405047901981451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114405047901981451' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114405047901981451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114405047901981451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/eating-ramen-and-springing-forward.html' title='Eating ramen and springing forward with the &apos;rents'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114393459492870376</id><published>2006-04-01T15:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-04-01T15:36:34.956-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain, rain, go away</title><content type='html'>I just got back from a run, which made me realize that I haven't gone running in a while. I'm not normally lazy when it comes to working out. I have a few excuses: my ankles haven't been in great shape since Chile, and I've been busy with work stuff and family matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But above all else, I blame it on the rain. (Milli Vanilli may have been wrong for lip-syncing, but they got one thing right.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2006/04/01/MNGTRI1V261.DTL&amp;type=chart" target="_blank"&gt;We had a record-breakingly wet March.&lt;/a&gt; Downtown San Francisco had 25 rainy days in March. The old record was 23 days, and that was set in 1904! What should be the normal number of March rain days? 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten, people! I am a San Franciscan, not a Seattlean. Seattleite? Seattleonian? Whatever they're called. We're supposed to get some rain, but we're mostly known for our fog. C'mon Mama Nature, can we get our weather back for my last days here? Please?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114393459492870376?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114393459492870376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114393459492870376' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114393459492870376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114393459492870376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/04/rain-rain-go-away.html' title='Rain, rain, go away'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10846327.post-114367627265004399</id><published>2006-03-29T19:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-30T13:01:46.330-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How we met (Part 2)</title><content type='html'>They picked me up from my Pacific Heights apartment, and we were off to bar hop in North Beach. We hit &lt;a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/0KlSLnYojm5CP-GcGlYdPw?hrid=KNuWvW3yNhmAooT46TFpNQ" target="_blank"&gt;Rosewood&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/m0ip9nECwVVjfjulwrKisQ" target="_blank"&gt;Romolo&lt;/a&gt;, two of my favorite spots in that often crazy neighborhood. Because I was trying to play the role of the tough girl, I attempted to match both boys drink for drink. While I can normal handle my alcohol - we Koreans &lt;em&gt;are &lt;/em&gt;the Irish of the Asians, after all - I somehow failed to realize that I was a mere 5'4" being who hadn't eaten much that day, and both Taer and John were over 6' tall. And we were ALL Korean, so I couldn't rely on my "Irish" genes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere between drink number eight and eleven, I realized I was feeling the libations. I then found myself at &lt;a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/qP-mTrV1_Hi_hK5gTgpaWQ" target="_blank"&gt;the Matrix&lt;/a&gt; with a mojito in my hand and the boys by my side. Hungry and drunk, we all decided to get some food at &lt;a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/wurSSE1mkbzb-mmVzP9p-Q" target="_blank"&gt;Won Mi&lt;/a&gt; after all this. When John went to get the car, I somehow ended up waiting outside, with Taer holding me up. Now, I can't say whether I leaned on him or whether he had me lean on him, and I'm not even sure I totally needed his support; but neither of us were complaining. (Taer very cutely admitted later that he didn't wash his shirt for several days because it smelled like my perfume and had traces of my makeup left on it. It may not quite be Brokeback Mountain sweet, but I did think that was really cute of him.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing happened that night, and he was off to the east coast the next morning. A thank you email from Taer became many emails back and forth, which eventually turned into phone calls. The calls became longer and more frequent, 4-5 hours every day. I was smitten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A month after our first meeting, Taer was scheduled to come back to the bay area for work again. I was excited to see him again, but I was a little apprehensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't remember what he looked like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if I had on some major beer goggles when I met him before? What if our phone chemistry didn't translate well in person, sans alcohol? What if he didn't think I was cute?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's obvious by now that all my what if's were unfounded. I still get as excited to see my man now as I did way back then. And now we're going to live happily ever after.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10846327-114367627265004399?l=jennipah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/feeds/114367627265004399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10846327&amp;postID=114367627265004399' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114367627265004399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10846327/posts/default/114367627265004399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jennipah.blogspot.com/2006/03/how-we-met-part-2.html' title='How we met (Part 2)'/><author><name>jennipah</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3443/856/1600/pixel3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
