tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47626210168663801532024-03-19T11:16:29.453-06:00Fantastic LiesJordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.comBlogger167125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-4837171687768232692013-09-20T16:58:00.000-06:002013-09-20T17:00:53.478-06:00Party Animals<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I understand this post is almost a year over due, but the theme of this blog is better late then never. </span></i></div>
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All I wanted for my bachelorette party was to be around all my girlfriends and have a typical Ratchet City night out. Also we needed a theme. Instead of everyone dressing the same or wearing wigs or whatever you do for bachelorette parties, I wanted to have an animal theme. I asked everyone to wear animal print and ordered animal masks for everyone to wear.<br />
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Let me tell you it was one fabulous night. We started at Superior like you do when you live in Shreveport. Moved the party to Emily's house for a little lingerie shower, play games, take Jello shots, and eat a phallic-shaped cake. Then we bar hopped until we couldn't take it any longer.<br />
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It was one of the most fun nights I've ever had. I don't remember too terribly much, but highlights include discovering that rice krispy treats are a great way to show off a man's package on a cake, being slightly embarrassed by the lingerie and questioning game at the shower, walking in the rain to a bar that was "just a block away," and ending the night on my kitchen floor with two of my best friends eating taquitos and a cheese board Aaron made us.<br />
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Thanks ladies for such a fun night! It was exactly what I always wanted!<br />
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<br />Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-15328697944050745842013-09-14T14:19:00.000-06:002013-09-14T14:19:27.468-06:00It's A Boy! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There was no mistaking our sweet little boy when the ultrasound tech told us the news. I was so excited, although I a little shocked since I was convinced it was a girl. I guess you shouldn't really trust those old wives tales! I looked over at Aaron and he was smiling ear to ear. The even better news was that baby bear was so healthy. He opened and closed his hands, wiggled all around, and of course, hid his face with his arm. </div>
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After the appointment, we had to keep the big news to ourselves for 6 days. Aaron's parents hosted our family and close friends for a gender reveal party. We reused the pins from our reception as well as the photo booth props to reveal the news. It was such a special afternoon, and we were so excited to share the news with everyone. </div>
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We can't wait to meet little Baby Bear!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby Bear's Grandmothers</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Staple hand on the belly pic</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pins from our reception</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's a Dapper Gent!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFh6fsq2NT__R3NWadNADKce3Yiwp28kvSOcV05hlh7CLR0ptt7pc6Q5TKHiBxQLViafiShfMTatOnI6IZLfacQrf2IkVRWfPuLW6_Zjm3XNXr6wdoJNq8q854QxhfRGZ8sWynUNnFb-jq/s1600/IMG_4403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFh6fsq2NT__R3NWadNADKce3Yiwp28kvSOcV05hlh7CLR0ptt7pc6Q5TKHiBxQLViafiShfMTatOnI6IZLfacQrf2IkVRWfPuLW6_Zjm3XNXr6wdoJNq8q854QxhfRGZ8sWynUNnFb-jq/s400/IMG_4403.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet friends that came to celebrate</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggVtqkDgAnVTdEvx-6ChzkMG3lryXT7-rjnu_a65rApbugK6C4RTqIyW2D0sz44G4UQYvSXqyyKCnahqhmO_zWETKLlNbDe-XmaoY6jSKJUZeFNdDkodIPxi0fNelsXaflxDscpNJKLLwr/s1600/IMG_4412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggVtqkDgAnVTdEvx-6ChzkMG3lryXT7-rjnu_a65rApbugK6C4RTqIyW2D0sz44G4UQYvSXqyyKCnahqhmO_zWETKLlNbDe-XmaoY6jSKJUZeFNdDkodIPxi0fNelsXaflxDscpNJKLLwr/s400/IMG_4412.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Baby Bear will get to hang out with these cool dudes! </td></tr>
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Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-17776359860678346412013-09-03T19:02:00.000-06:002013-09-04T10:11:51.677-06:00A Tribute to Helen Rose ...<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9GYNvKj6esVgq4qDS8VZZrgLSNxSZGg_KUeGIu8IuQ_EPUHD0vdUy23IqnM1g-p1UdviC9cWSj-MMSOXL5iUUYUEfhW5JeKwRIL-nwaiuPC3VGo0DKbn2HlG_we9DxaNBfsfvF41fAom/s1600/Scan+9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9GYNvKj6esVgq4qDS8VZZrgLSNxSZGg_KUeGIu8IuQ_EPUHD0vdUy23IqnM1g-p1UdviC9cWSj-MMSOXL5iUUYUEfhW5JeKwRIL-nwaiuPC3VGo0DKbn2HlG_we9DxaNBfsfvF41fAom/s400/Scan+9.jpeg" width="310" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helen Rose at age 16 (hottie to the max)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHnO6eCu5rXDgQNYN0MK3hsVXtE1fIL9zpzTDY0WJHAXFFLMLBNOGagQLycP1BTU96YdZEc4ACxt0cwiW0NPmYuHNf-ved390ydLyG4PaJ-gb0xDu9tEwwf_iVw6t-s1VMcK9NTVLij9dc/s1600/IMG_5593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHnO6eCu5rXDgQNYN0MK3hsVXtE1fIL9zpzTDY0WJHAXFFLMLBNOGagQLycP1BTU96YdZEc4ACxt0cwiW0NPmYuHNf-ved390ydLyG4PaJ-gb0xDu9tEwwf_iVw6t-s1VMcK9NTVLij9dc/s320/IMG_5593.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mamaw, me, mom and Aunt Tana </td></tr>
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Last month my sweet Mamaw and Aunt Tana were killed from a tragic car accident. It was an incredibly hard week learning the news, planning the funerals, going to the funerals, etc. I first want to thank all of my friends and family who kicked it into high gear and brought food, sent cards, messages, voice mails, emails, thoughts, prayers. You name it people did it. I know for a fact that the reason I was able to get out of bed that week was because of all the thoughts and prayers. I literally felt them. I was able to put one foot in front of the other and help my mom and her sisters plan the funerals of the two best women we knew.<br />
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It's no secret that my Mamaw was one of my favorite people on this entire earth. She taught me how to love, forgive, how to be a good wife, daughter, and a friend. I learned so many things from my grandmother. The one thing I honor above all is how she taught me to be kind. She showed kindness to everyone she knew, and it wasn't anything she had to have a sit-down talk with me. I could it see by her actions with her daughters, husband, friends, family, and strangers.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXzotxUjfQyjVJ9RoDsXkR2XaGju2tKqr6Ey1GnFuHj3Rd4UJrHzDLUPxQeiYXle7yCHrcSUbgbhgdzL-yWTteGiGVgp3TPsxIc8PUuNARmTvi63s6o1n5E03ybt7O_063YuQ3d52RFhy_/s1600/Scan+14.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXzotxUjfQyjVJ9RoDsXkR2XaGju2tKqr6Ey1GnFuHj3Rd4UJrHzDLUPxQeiYXle7yCHrcSUbgbhgdzL-yWTteGiGVgp3TPsxIc8PUuNARmTvi63s6o1n5E03ybt7O_063YuQ3d52RFhy_/s320/Scan+14.jpeg" width="274" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mamaw and my Papaw so in love</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOD1vwoWaBc-eCoH-aYvYQimivqu9-9xSg0QfF_Mq74nnogoRbKcgFMfA8ATES1Lm3wFsJCLMyBQu-u4Fwpd-ATXB2QN1AuPEMT0u_GZ_8TTmGPMYGpGAadHWdu0VGb6i4FVhykYE7Wf-/s1600/DSC04009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOD1vwoWaBc-eCoH-aYvYQimivqu9-9xSg0QfF_Mq74nnogoRbKcgFMfA8ATES1Lm3wFsJCLMyBQu-u4Fwpd-ATXB2QN1AuPEMT0u_GZ_8TTmGPMYGpGAadHWdu0VGb6i4FVhykYE7Wf-/s320/DSC04009.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mamaw and her second husband, Walter</td></tr>
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I miss her every single day, and I miss every single thing about her.<br />
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I will miss her laughter, her smile, her Mamaw kisses. I will miss her voice messages letting me know it's going to be cold or rainy or hot. I will miss her over the holidays. I will miss putting her on speaker phone with my friends in the car so they can hear her sweet Georgia accent. I will miss how she called me "My sweet baby girl" or MSBG for short.<br />
I will miss telling her about my growing belly and feeling the baby kick. I will miss her on the day sweet Baby Bear is born. I know there will be a huge hole in my heart on that day because she won't be there. I will miss it all. As much as I miss her, I know that she lives in my heart.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZlqAVx4Kx5EuAeH3MRK8U3m1dDEde1DQ-QcrBVimqBbrzcx-DsRZaQcS88VFTiq862QvOUL2BAi5TR1OWSlDso3eooXwrAJhkWKqpIG1MKev45k6xZKOexQjwbdCtLxxjhqejc-F0WsCp/s1600/524873_894135189248_445534462_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZlqAVx4Kx5EuAeH3MRK8U3m1dDEde1DQ-QcrBVimqBbrzcx-DsRZaQcS88VFTiq862QvOUL2BAi5TR1OWSlDso3eooXwrAJhkWKqpIG1MKev45k6xZKOexQjwbdCtLxxjhqejc-F0WsCp/s320/524873_894135189248_445534462_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mamaw holding me as a baby</td></tr>
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I can't wait to tell little Baby Bear all about her. I'll tell him about the time we found her dancing to Reba McIntyre in the living room, or the story about how she picked me up from the movies when I was in middle school BLARING Yanni from her huge white tank. I can't wait to tell him how much she loved coffee after dinner, and how we would tease her about the one time she put shredded cheese in it because she wanted a little treat. He will hear about her infectious laugh and how that one Christmas she laughed and laughed because all of her girls got her a copy of The Notebook. Then he will hear how she called Aaron Noah because he reminded her of Noah from The Notebook due to his "kind and gentle demeanor." Little one is sure to hear about her curiosity and appetite for knowledge. He will hear about the love she had for everyone and how much she already loved him so much before she passed away.<br />
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I know this post is all over the place, and I wish I could do her justice with my words. It may still be too raw, or it may be that I will never have the adequate words and sentences to truly express how much she meant to me. Instead, I'll post the eulogy my dad wrote for her funeral.<br />
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I love you Mamaw.<br />
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<i>First, I’d like that thank all of you for being here. I’m John Marshall and as I’ve had to</i></div>
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<i>say for about 30 years “I married the third Nunnally daughter” … When you say you </i></div>
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<i>married a Nunnally, you always have to qualify which one.</i></div>
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<i>It won’t surprise any of you by saying that it’s been a tough week, but this is as strong </i></div>
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<i>and as faith-filled of a family as you will ever meet. But then, you already know that </i></div>
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<i>because you know of Helen. And no doubt you know of the legacy that Helen had when </i></div>
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<i>she was with us and will continue to have upon us now that she has left us.</i></div>
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<i>Nevertheless, please know that your support in the last week and has left an indelible </i></div>
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<i>impression on the entire family.</i></div>
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<i>* * *</i></div>
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<i>We spend so much time is settings such as this worrying and wondering about things we </i></div>
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<i>don’t know. Things we can’t understand or never will understand. The mysteries of life </i></div>
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<i>and the mysteries of death.</i></div>
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<i>Instead, we should concentrate on the things we know.</i></div>
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<i>Here is what I know. Right now, in heaven, Helen just leaned over to Tana and said “You </i></div>
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<i>know that John is a Catholic, don’t you?” Tana is now clasping Helen’s hand and saying </i></div>
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<i>“Shhh, Mother, let’s just hear what he has to say.”</i></div>
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<i>We are here to celebrate Helen’s life, so let’s do that. Helen didn’t want anyone to ever </i></div>
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<i>feel uncomfortable around her, so let’s not start now. Spend a second or two and think of </i></div>
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<i>your favorite Helen moment and I promise it will make you smile. Lord knows that you </i></div>
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<i>have plenty to choose from.</i></div>
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<i>In fact, I would ask all of you to pause with me, close your eyes and picture Helen in </i></div>
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<i>your mind. ….. So now, here’s another thing I know – in that picture you just had in </i></div>
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<i>your mind, Helen was smiling.</i></div>
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<i>That’s because smiling is one of the things Helen did best. Smiling at her daughters, </i></div>
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<i>smiling at her grandchildren and great grandchildren. Smiling at friends and co-workers. </i></div>
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<i>Smiling at church. Smiling at life.</i></div>
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<i>Which wasn’t always easy. But Helen always found a way to make life work. She had </i></div>
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<i>more than her share of difficulties to deal with, but she was always able to get through </i></div>
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<i>any adversity and do it with a smile.</i></div>
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<i>But that came easily to Helen because she had the formula. Family and church. Church </i></div>
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<i>and family. If she wasn’t with one, she was with the other. And her greatest joy? No </i></div>
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<i>question, it was putting those two together.</i></div>
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<i>In the countless stories we have heard about Helen – not just those in the last week – </i></div>
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<i>almost all of them involve some combination of Tana, Jenny, Lori, Erin and Waller </i></div>
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<i>Baptist Church. Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, Wednesday nights, friends, boyfriends, </i></div>
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<i>social events, youth groups … a lot of intersecting lines in all that.</i></div>
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<i>Get a group of Nunnally girls together and watch them laugh. Get a group of </i></div>
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<i>grandchildren and watch them laugh about Helen and her mannerisms. The two-hour </i></div>
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<i>trips to Wal-Mart, made longer because she loved to touch the items on the shelves. Her </i></div>
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<i>ability to use twice as many syllables as usual for the term “family values.” The way she </i></div>
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<i>would never kiss a grandchild only once. Or twice. Instead, it was rapid fire until her lips </i></div>
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<i>got tired. How when she moved to the assisting living facility a few years ago when she </i></div>
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<i>was 75, she felt it was her calling to minister “to the elderly people.”</i></div>
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<i>Helen loved whatever she did. Think about that. A lot of us get caught up life’s </i></div>
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<i>unhappiness, whether it is a job or a relationship or what we perceive to be a chore. Helen </i></div>
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<i>loved everything she did.</i></div>
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<i>Starting with being a mother. As an Air Force wife, there were long periods of time in </i></div>
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<i>which it was just her and the girls. And Helen made that work because she had it figured </i></div>
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<i>out – lots of love and lots of faith.</i></div>
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<i>First was Tana, who became a clone of Helen almost from the minute she was born. And </i></div>
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<i>then Jenny, and thus was formed a tag-team sister partnership. Ooops, partnership might </i></div>
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<i>not be the right word. According to my “sources,” there were plenty of shenanigans </i></div>
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<i>between the two that involved boyfriends, bent fenders and who took who’s makeup.</i></div>
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<i>And when Tana and Jenny couldn’t blame each other, they found another option – blame </i></div>
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<i>younger sister Lori. It didn’t matter that Lori was too young to drive and too young to </i></div>
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<i>date and barely weighed 50 pounds, that didn’t stop accusing fingers being pointed her </i></div>
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<i>way when necessary.</i></div>
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<i>By the time Lori was old enough to fend for herself and Helen thought things might have </i></div>
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<i>settled down, along came Erin. Helen found herself as a mother again in her 40s, but that </i></div>
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<i>was never a problem. After the sister battles with Tana and Jenny and Lori, no one had </i></div>
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<i>the energy. So Erin had it made. Free pass.</i></div>
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<i>And that brought about the next chapter. Nobody could turn one of life’s pages like </i></div>
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<i>Helen. She is the alltime champion of going from a mother to a grandmother. Never </i></div>
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<i>fought it for a second. In fact, as I look back on it, I think about how Helen was in her </i></div>
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<i>late 40s when I met her. Huh? That’s not possible. Helen was a 79 when she passed </i></div>
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<i>away, but it seems like she’s been 79 for decades. Some people try to stiff-arm age; </i></div>
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<i>Helen embraced it.</i></div>
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<i>I would often laugh because Helen had little use for the male species. She knew nothing </i></div>
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<i>about men and really didn’t care to know. As you might imagine, we didn’t spent a whole </i></div>
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<i>lot time discussing the zone blitz or why the Cubs can’t win a World Series. I’m pretty </i></div>
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<i>sure she never watched a Super Bowl. But if there was an event at which she needed to </i></div>
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<i>attend – she was there. Graduation, dance recital and yes, even baseball game – she was </i></div>
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<i>there. And her love for her sons in law and grandsons was just as strong as it was for her </i></div>
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<i>daughters and granddaughters.</i></div>
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<i>Through it all, she always “Helen.” From the day I met her, I called her Helen. Mrs. </i></div>
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<i>Nunnally? No such person. Everybody called her Helen. Most of the time, her daughters </i></div>
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<i>even called her Helen. </i></div>
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<i>Here’s another thing I know: Helen was at her happiest when she left us. Though you </i></div>
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<i>wouldn’t know it from how she dealt with it, life wasn’t always easy for Helen. </i></div>
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<i>One of her daughters once told a friend “We didn’t have much, but we never ate off paper </i></div>
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<i>plates.” That might sound like a great title to a country song, but think about that for a </i></div>
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<i>minute – “we never ate off paper plates.” Helen provided for her girls, no matter what </i></div>
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<i>was left in her checkbook. Now, that is a mother’s lasting legacy.</i></div>
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<i>If you think Helen couldn’t manage a family, consider these four words – four girls, one </i></div>
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<i>bathroom. Enough said.</i></div>
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<i>Though her spirit never dampened, she dealt with much physical pain in her later years. </i></div>
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<i>But the move to Lufkin last year to be with Tana and her family changed everything. </i></div>
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<i>(And by the way, a nod to Tana’s husband Kevin for getting charter membership in the </i></div>
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<i>Son-In-Law Hall of Fame by having his mother in law move into his house.) There was </i></div>
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<i>an immediate change in Helen. Physically, she improved almost instantly and her life was </i></div>
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<i>made so much more whole and complete. When she went to be with the Lord, arm-in-arm with Tana, she was one happy Helen.</i></div>
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<i>And I will leave you with two more things I know: (1) Upon arrival in heaven, the Lord </i></div>
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<i>made sure that He called her Helen. (2) And when he did, she had a smile on her face.</i></div>
Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-86949053207787542272013-08-25T10:40:00.000-06:002013-08-25T11:00:12.544-06:00First Trimester BluesAbout a week after I found out I was pregnant, I started having every single pregnancy symptom. Y'all, it was miserable. I was miserable. Everyone around me was miserable.<br />
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I was nauseous all the time. I was so tired I could barely make it through the day. I didn't want to eat anything. I didn't want to smell anything. I was bloated. I had tummy issues. My boobs hurt constantly. I was terrified something was going to happen to that little babe, and I would blame myself entirely. I had a bad attitude about it all. I didn't have the energy to be excited about being pregnant. I was barely holding it together as each hour passed by. </div>
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Thankfully I got through those first 12 weeks because I have the most amazing husband in the entire world. He was excited for the both of us about having a baby. He understood that I couldn't step foot in the kitchen, therefore I couldn't make dinner for the foreseeable future. He worked 11 hour days, but still came home with a good attitude and took care of me. </div>
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Then one day that magical second trimester happened. Now I have a baby bump to wear as my badge of honor. I wear it proudly because I am so thrilled to be a mom, and quite frankly, I am so damn excited to have made it to this point. </div>
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Here's to all those first trimester mommies. It takes everything in you to help grow and nourish that tiny baby. You can't tell the world you are pregnant, and each and every day you wake up paranoid that something is going to happen to that tiny little bean. It's a tough start, but you can do it! </div>
Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-37989075345850081772013-08-18T15:57:00.002-06:002013-08-18T15:57:37.338-06:00Better Late Than NeverSo, we have this to share ... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgekAp9rW_o6eNoF5JKKz3R11zTP-xzvIEoEdytyz6jGgJOHHVZOfTQw4X9Mzxed_0ZD544qhm3E2ACQ_ZILzEbzFj9UHAc6QKTzmiD696BsFghRo3nhzkehAuB7rY7zh1TEUN-9XseE0vv/s1600/ExpectingFB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgekAp9rW_o6eNoF5JKKz3R11zTP-xzvIEoEdytyz6jGgJOHHVZOfTQw4X9Mzxed_0ZD544qhm3E2ACQ_ZILzEbzFj9UHAc6QKTzmiD696BsFghRo3nhzkehAuB7rY7zh1TEUN-9XseE0vv/s400/ExpectingFB.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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At the end of May I went in for my annual lady business appointment. I did the usual. Pee in a cup, put on the lovely paper gown and sat on the exam table for Dr. Gomez to see me. As I waited, I couldn't help but stare at the cup of urine sitting on the counter and the pregnancy test strip sitting right next to it. I didn't dare move to see what the test said because I would just assume it was negative. It wasn't like Aaron and I were actively trying to have a baby, and I was scheduled to start my period the next day. </div>
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Dr. Gomez came in and we talked about when I wanted to start a family while the nurse Jo stood over the counter. As Dr. Gomez and I moved on to starting a family to how to handle my unpredictable periods, Jo suddenly raised her arm, looked at both of us and said "YOU ARE PREGNANT!"</div>
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I sat there naked expect for the paper covering me and started to shake and cry and suddenly the room was spinning. Jo and Dr. Gomez came over and hugged me. I couldn't stop shaking. </div>
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I couldn't stop shaking as I went to see an afternoon movie with Jess (I shared the news before the movie started because I was certain she could just tell by looking at me that something was up). I I couldn't stop shaking when I came home and told Aaron that our family of two was about to expand to three. </div>
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Aaron's response was "we can do this" while all I could think was "HOLY SHIT THIS IS NOT IN THE PLAN RIGHT NOW."</div>
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It's been quite a summer dealing with the first trimester and the beginning of the second trimester. I was sick as a dog for those first 12 weeks. I couldn't eat, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I thought for certain I would never make it. </div>
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But now that my tummy is looking more like a pregnant belly and less like a beer gut and the morning/all day sickness has subsided, I can say that I feel more and more ready to be a mom as each day goes by. </div>
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I can't wait to meet this little one. As I lie in bed at night I try to imagine what Baby Bear Harris will look like, what kind of personality he/she will have, and prepare myself for the big world of motherhood. </div>
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Here's to five more months! </div>
Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-49445541826084745292013-04-02T20:32:00.001-06:002013-04-26T13:51:05.183-06:00Lately <div style="text-align: left;">
Here are some things that have been going on in our little world as of late ...</div>
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TURNER GRAY MCPETERS IS HERE!</div>
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My BFFFF gave birth to this beautiful baby on March 23 after being in labor for almost a full 24 hours - or something like that. I could not be more proud of her.</div>
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Tiny Turner is so beautiful, and I just can't wait to see him grow up and see my bestie in this new role as a momma. I know she's going to be the best, and I am so excited that I get to be a part of this little one's life.</div>
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These two continue to fill our hearts with such joy. We love our family cuddle times and couldn't imagine our lives without our Penny and Margot Bears.</div>
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I work behind Jason's Deli and eat there at least twice a week. In recent months it has become the scene of my BFF date nights. Emily and I get out salad and a scoop or soup and gab and enjoy a semi-healthy (and fairly cheap) meal. Aaron and I are also known to frequent this establishment on Sunday nights when we don't feel like cooking. </div>
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I've tried to pick up running once again. I went twice in one week, and then haven't been since. But I plan on completing the Couch to 5K program again this year. If I can only get my rear out of bed in the mornings and get motivated ...</div>
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My dear friend Paul King and owner of <a href="http://www.indexdrums.com/">Index Drums</a> invited me to tag along while he dropped off one of his custom cajons for Jason Castro. Paul knew of my love for this former American Idol contestant and was kind enough to let me come along. Jason was as nice as he could be and took a few pics with the two of us. Even though I'm not a fan of his music today, I still got giddy and excited to meet him. </div>
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This is what happens when Aaron shaves his beard. Every. Single. Time.</div>
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<br />Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-9908001560179064322013-03-04T18:33:00.003-06:002013-03-04T18:43:22.389-06:00family, friends, food, and whiskey<div style="text-align: center;">
Pre-wedding activities are the best, right? Maybe not for everyone, but the week of my wedding was just so much fun. We were surrounded by friends and family, and life just couldn't have been better. BUT IT WAS BECAUSE THEN WE GOT MARRIED.</div>
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Aaron and I planned a dinner with both of our families the Wednesday before our wedding day. It was the first time both families had spent more than 15 minutes together. It was so nice to see Aaron's parents, my parents, and my brothers come together. We were all so excited about the upcoming nuptials and had a little bit of anxiety. My mom drove 10 hours from Kansas City directly to the restaurant that night to kick off the wedding activites. Aaron's parents told stories of him from when he was a kid, and my parents shared a few of mine. We all toasted to a wonderful time for both families, and to a lifetime of happiness. I wish I took a picture of the entire crew, but alas, I did not capture the evening on camera.</div>
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The next night was probably one of my favorite nights of my life. We went to dinner with our little group of friends.</div>
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Stephen brought us all champagne to enjoy, and I just sat back and was so thankful for the tight group of close friends we have made. They are so incredibly supportive and have become like family to Aaron and I. None of them could accompany us to the bar after dinner since they all had to work the next day. But once I stepped foot into Noble Savage, I knew I was in for a fun night.<span id="goog_299302224"></span></div>
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It seemed like all of our friends from out of town and some in town gathered at Noble Savage to drink and have fun with us. We all laughed, drank, danced, and drank some more the entire night. I just remember sitting back and thinking what incredible friends we have. These friends live thousands of miles away, and they all made the time, effort, and money to be with us. We are truly so blessed.</div>
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Our friends the Schaffer's landed, dropped those precious babes off with a sitter and headed to meet us. I screamed when I saw them and was overjoyed that they were there. </div>
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I also may have had one too many whiskey and cokes thanks to my lovely friend, Jep, which led to late night taquitos at my house with the Schaffers and Aaron - shh don't wake the KIDS!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBA8pM2tH16FNFc5b74oT8GmH978r_39T20EVX5hSiW2WyjpSeX4JIVQ9LtY-uukpfqbX7M-PnSWs5kFVHBYaa9aRnxfO7yObe0YjJMNCmgsDal9rgfk532MGiQbvnJAJuAmm-WOFwP_J/s1600/IMG_3959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBA8pM2tH16FNFc5b74oT8GmH978r_39T20EVX5hSiW2WyjpSeX4JIVQ9LtY-uukpfqbX7M-PnSWs5kFVHBYaa9aRnxfO7yObe0YjJMNCmgsDal9rgfk532MGiQbvnJAJuAmm-WOFwP_J/s400/IMG_3959.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">My old boss, now favorite friend, and the only lady who will have a dance off with me at any bar stopped by for some fun.</span></span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlNKrCMqL9O9PdujuV_m26FhUAkioo2Ni0Ls_xKjx5qSHd7HXkYK6Q3dQbhrSB1IYOp84lKfA0yyiMtSP5HHBQJLzIBK8V_wrI7MLt2_R2l6m6x94ko7Y0FXAMlZjXG5hnKyXvfAh9cUA/s1600/IMG_3960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlNKrCMqL9O9PdujuV_m26FhUAkioo2Ni0Ls_xKjx5qSHd7HXkYK6Q3dQbhrSB1IYOp84lKfA0yyiMtSP5HHBQJLzIBK8V_wrI7MLt2_R2l6m6x94ko7Y0FXAMlZjXG5hnKyXvfAh9cUA/s400/IMG_3960.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jessica's husband has his own mug at Noble Savage</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijAL_u7quMeietGHHckyv9a35cyW5lx-G3OKc43lE7joEHFd3wNiAm-JE0qkDYOI8ODmvgDepY3iojvckypL7aP6g-F18c62RnMT2OP3B72pVdQ3b7oXVuOG0AKzblVQIvcYxv5K67dtQn/s1600/IMG_3961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijAL_u7quMeietGHHckyv9a35cyW5lx-G3OKc43lE7joEHFd3wNiAm-JE0qkDYOI8ODmvgDepY3iojvckypL7aP6g-F18c62RnMT2OP3B72pVdQ3b7oXVuOG0AKzblVQIvcYxv5K67dtQn/s400/IMG_3961.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone was very excited to be a groomsmen and wore this really cute shirt.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lQeER7qIyKPeooRLc2chxJpZoAd4ZDv6nTpLwEUbt24S88nkHhQmMnfkEr2Yp_cpxm4qlKWM6LwrFLCYP9yy1wTNWk1Gknl85g3CJ1xI4ph1nNCElSf2YlFKjvqA_OX2LCY_lyzUZRg_/s1600/IMG_3977.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lQeER7qIyKPeooRLc2chxJpZoAd4ZDv6nTpLwEUbt24S88nkHhQmMnfkEr2Yp_cpxm4qlKWM6LwrFLCYP9yy1wTNWk1Gknl85g3CJ1xI4ph1nNCElSf2YlFKjvqA_OX2LCY_lyzUZRg_/s400/IMG_3977.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL39UABKLfqY4oickKKOfPk-BiCrEMi2eJQOOeQOxmvG_jDSYX2V0kLS90haDZ46WVBVCZb0js9j5FXXEeAFuAsKMIw5nmoP7f4laWFc9pqGLmmjhEHxFxiZROzLYedLvclgbTa07BvRaq/s1600/IMG_3976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL39UABKLfqY4oickKKOfPk-BiCrEMi2eJQOOeQOxmvG_jDSYX2V0kLS90haDZ46WVBVCZb0js9j5FXXEeAFuAsKMIw5nmoP7f4laWFc9pqGLmmjhEHxFxiZROzLYedLvclgbTa07BvRaq/s400/IMG_3976.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aaron David with two of his groomsmen</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3X0sbyRCYQ-R5KRGhOIp1-xL5VU6u11fwbc1VeQA2B19wvknHLudtEnhSRBSr_oicLLOTSjkLHmp4kSxWeagxSvHib6HYJ1-uhPBWC9UQK_SkjQAhKGf3xX4-ob381_B9i5Owk-h19A-/s1600/IMG_3979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3X0sbyRCYQ-R5KRGhOIp1-xL5VU6u11fwbc1VeQA2B19wvknHLudtEnhSRBSr_oicLLOTSjkLHmp4kSxWeagxSvHib6HYJ1-uhPBWC9UQK_SkjQAhKGf3xX4-ob381_B9i5Owk-h19A-/s400/IMG_3979.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my heart</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyK3t53TAKdBpjJ43n33iJ0L_taB0dPuRKG5n-OhziDv_a9CKfZQV95siiQ-eQAaUFpsD5wjO9Wcu35okw2WSWvipT-pbYUW1PY-S1mgh5buLq8btbyhbg_CR_u4Br91-N5NS47aZPKhUN/s1600/IMG_3978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyK3t53TAKdBpjJ43n33iJ0L_taB0dPuRKG5n-OhziDv_a9CKfZQV95siiQ-eQAaUFpsD5wjO9Wcu35okw2WSWvipT-pbYUW1PY-S1mgh5buLq8btbyhbg_CR_u4Br91-N5NS47aZPKhUN/s400/IMG_3978.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My cup was never empty thanks to this fella</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5JeYspBE3U68GF6rqpPF22H-_LrIsvIHkKlEJ0WamFP8dqQ2wRgrXwm4yUK5YO-q7TUQFsbA0y0Qp6AhjSA5wGbYe07q71pVWM08ar3SgVtrtDpIIwfQeNDBdwVIG_Cl5Ft12552dPNHy/s1600/IMG_3975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5JeYspBE3U68GF6rqpPF22H-_LrIsvIHkKlEJ0WamFP8dqQ2wRgrXwm4yUK5YO-q7TUQFsbA0y0Qp6AhjSA5wGbYe07q71pVWM08ar3SgVtrtDpIIwfQeNDBdwVIG_Cl5Ft12552dPNHy/s400/IMG_3975.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We have been friends since K-5! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFq2vguqpEFh1Wuxpd4snfbXLeq4EzmBj1nK7fPV-JmlRU3mRi-JAuTeIMknUPiAijNqZplhhgsoGYTWywopxSRd6tI1aQm3G1Dtps9KSlndPx1JPVr-8ONpq-me0Kk4nR5kV_UNjjseEd/s1600/IMG_3980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFq2vguqpEFh1Wuxpd4snfbXLeq4EzmBj1nK7fPV-JmlRU3mRi-JAuTeIMknUPiAijNqZplhhgsoGYTWywopxSRd6tI1aQm3G1Dtps9KSlndPx1JPVr-8ONpq-me0Kk4nR5kV_UNjjseEd/s400/IMG_3980.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">IRINA IS HERE!!! ALL IS WELL WITH THE WORLD! </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv00kkuEByn6ez3nT8J6ALD1oU13DI5NDEi0fLToKuPshMaFpdgY7G8NbxBJFp7L2djcdfUUtRl13OyrTYpvjurj3-d6wY-SWuM3_sJdqHdLnH7GpiBzOfIePYu-DGOq1CpG9Iu27ge7BU/s1600/IMG_3981.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv00kkuEByn6ez3nT8J6ALD1oU13DI5NDEi0fLToKuPshMaFpdgY7G8NbxBJFp7L2djcdfUUtRl13OyrTYpvjurj3-d6wY-SWuM3_sJdqHdLnH7GpiBzOfIePYu-DGOq1CpG9Iu27ge7BU/s400/IMG_3981.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nope, we didn't have a thing to drink.</td></tr>
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Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-1972255312143755282013-02-14T16:28:00.001-06:002013-02-14T16:28:48.980-06:00Dear Hubs Valentine Bear, This is the fifth, <b><i>FIFTH </i></b>Valentine's Day we have spent together, and it's the first one as a married couple!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLRIwm3RQbYz4078sFbh7YpbWtoJ4PFni1-eiLJroqxw3DLkXu-R9O_hyphenhyphen6dTeeQ217HeS521cYOrbXEqZIpUhO4FqiP56qppZMAkKyIubsUgYhM55hfPQVriVA-RX2KA7fEtPfco_yOWEj/s1600/135866_984871502948_144419282_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLRIwm3RQbYz4078sFbh7YpbWtoJ4PFni1-eiLJroqxw3DLkXu-R9O_hyphenhyphen6dTeeQ217HeS521cYOrbXEqZIpUhO4FqiP56qppZMAkKyIubsUgYhM55hfPQVriVA-RX2KA7fEtPfco_yOWEj/s400/135866_984871502948_144419282_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I don't remember every single Valentine's Day we have had, but a few do come to mind. I believe the first one you cooked dinner for me, bought and built a table for us to eat it on, and gave me the key to your (soon to be our) apartment. Then there was the one (last year?) where we went to Chianti's and felt super cheesy about eating at an Italian restaurant on the big V-Day. We made fun of all of the sappy couples, including the one table with the fedora and the skin tight dress. I do recall seeing an adorable older couple there that night that looked just as in love as the day they met. Every time I see older couples, whether they are enjoying a dinner together, dancing at a wedding, or just at the grocery store, I always hope we make it that far. Because honestly, Aaron, I can't imagine going through life without you - as dramatic and emo as that sounds. You make me laugh every day, you put my problems first, and you always support me in ways I could never repay you for.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNbASMeKsy-butOL062CoUwbc5SuLpACUdhyphenhyphenXhsA2ny4VQfd2bMC6Y57FnFwXsZ2eKuXEoNd10u0wBDk2fVbrrxsVp_k_snU2sMeMS06OtFT9__qAYjcC2ynBvTNmryfG-_PoAjZOs-qI/s1600/621220_984868513938_1325127753_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNbASMeKsy-butOL062CoUwbc5SuLpACUdhyphenhyphenXhsA2ny4VQfd2bMC6Y57FnFwXsZ2eKuXEoNd10u0wBDk2fVbrrxsVp_k_snU2sMeMS06OtFT9__qAYjcC2ynBvTNmryfG-_PoAjZOs-qI/s400/621220_984868513938_1325127753_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I know 2013 has started out pretty stressful, but I am just so lucky that I get to go through it as your wife. And as everyone says, I don't need a silly Hallmark holiday to tell you I love you, I really don't, but I do want to take this day to write you this note and tell you that you mean the world to me. You are my favorite person ever. And I am so thankful I get to spend all my days with you.<br />
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Thank you for loving me and for making this lucky girl Mrs. Aaron David Harris.<br />
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Love,<br />
Your Wifey Valentine Honey Bear<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRmyoM_RfogX269yT1Bkxt4sJEbmsb6HK4cypK3kRk_lirVibMIzU1w7Cjzspat6CHH-k5Ey_K1rQ3dUMafNpNrgvFntvOxtuijnnG1yujq-MWbqq-8idDZCcNCzcSbO8XYTCAAlUzPYJ/s1600/480387_995341670648_9699025_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a>
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<br />Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-56019711036974449032013-01-28T17:45:00.002-06:002013-02-19T15:36:20.812-06:00showered with lots of love<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">EDIT: I completely forgot to mention the lovely Julie Miller who is a bridesmaid but could not attend this shower either! Man, I am the worst friend/bride ever. I love Julie to the ends of the earth and will post another blog about how she battled an airline and a hurricane to come to my wedding.</span></i></b><br />
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Pretty much as soon as I assembled my favorite group of ladies together to stand next to me on my big day, they started planning the most amazing bridal shower I've ever seen.</div>
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I showed the girls some sample bridal showers via Pinterst that I liked and told them to run wild! This shower exceeded my wildest dreams. Those ladies made sure that everything from the invitations (thanks Chris McPeters - MOH's hubs), to the decor, to the food, to EVERYTHING was perfect. Everything was so personalized and thoughtful. I really couldn't have asked for a better shower.</div>
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I loved seeing my friends and family and of course getting all the lovely presents, but most of all I was so honored that my lovely ladies put so much thought, effort, and love into the shower. The only thing that made me sad was that my LeAnn was not able to make it due to Hurricane Isaac I know that she was intergal to planning this splendid shower, and I was so upset that she wasn't able to be there in person! </div>
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Now, onto to the pictures! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgadR-ABmSB06jSeDRzISO24AzCp6958ueeo9sR_B06Tp6FB9o7XzqDsUMm2KVI0JLp-Q9-wTzrCtTvE5_vH5M0vLLkzeKPQY6l_7LKmASeHvOgMwHW0JULi5UhvKXTr6-JEfn8PrwtHx/s1600/IMG_3026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgadR-ABmSB06jSeDRzISO24AzCp6958ueeo9sR_B06Tp6FB9o7XzqDsUMm2KVI0JLp-Q9-wTzrCtTvE5_vH5M0vLLkzeKPQY6l_7LKmASeHvOgMwHW0JULi5UhvKXTr6-JEfn8PrwtHx/s320/IMG_3026.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of the spread! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgOwfJr-mUvYThyphenhyphenXhThpY-0DNP9qXYXmFOS3lB74ZDZkMZ4MO-FZnC-6OkPLuYE9JNuRWi2lQhiZhAHld4YnRfQ22GF9zfgzTDrzz7NNBrMoIJ9cMmaRyxufWc_sBDWoqJBMqxIFBJ93_/s1600/IMG_3034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgOwfJr-mUvYThyphenhyphenXhThpY-0DNP9qXYXmFOS3lB74ZDZkMZ4MO-FZnC-6OkPLuYE9JNuRWi2lQhiZhAHld4YnRfQ22GF9zfgzTDrzz7NNBrMoIJ9cMmaRyxufWc_sBDWoqJBMqxIFBJ93_/s320/IMG_3034.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, Mamaw, and my cousin/bridesmaid Jessica</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdBWMcNzOl8QcgWVsepTvsEu0Jb2V8W_JgBZuIVuNj_G9OOZjLKAl7L1jcnO35Tmo-oMzlcqIcLJCbl4ap4gYliAy2taQSBmVnnuA1WXyouzp_sm-qcdy_QKCNtyUhim1f1dqolCKzV1w0/s1600/IMG_3033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdBWMcNzOl8QcgWVsepTvsEu0Jb2V8W_JgBZuIVuNj_G9OOZjLKAl7L1jcnO35Tmo-oMzlcqIcLJCbl4ap4gYliAy2taQSBmVnnuA1WXyouzp_sm-qcdy_QKCNtyUhim1f1dqolCKzV1w0/s320/IMG_3033.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MOH/shower host Emily chowing down</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuR7sB2SA8JeZGS0xTTXWPcKHH2WDl2YSnDPX8lL5GTItH0VarnJSpfrsjIxXY7-7oZghC3l2r13uJubUS0H7xu3svnfuQBgaJ__S1jPu3NBhiQBIdnJVnadkECt5_jpiRGcGEsQyI1bGX/s1600/IMG_3036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuR7sB2SA8JeZGS0xTTXWPcKHH2WDl2YSnDPX8lL5GTItH0VarnJSpfrsjIxXY7-7oZghC3l2r13uJubUS0H7xu3svnfuQBgaJ__S1jPu3NBhiQBIdnJVnadkECt5_jpiRGcGEsQyI1bGX/s320/IMG_3036.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My bow :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWxbKywg2WSFLLIza6YV4CKj1Srry_YfdWqbLkSuBuW4mvMLWz7x1x1fk2DqId-2bk0sAQSqxeK8ONtXPh2N6vm3UrT4rrKP75kR7TeDsLGIs4TKiM_jkir5UCIQuqQHj7EUJyN4o2dZPb/s1600/IMG_3038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWxbKywg2WSFLLIza6YV4CKj1Srry_YfdWqbLkSuBuW4mvMLWz7x1x1fk2DqId-2bk0sAQSqxeK8ONtXPh2N6vm3UrT4rrKP75kR7TeDsLGIs4TKiM_jkir5UCIQuqQHj7EUJyN4o2dZPb/s320/IMG_3038.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some friends who made the day so fun</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCEXAhvhM4m6GEn9PdNAnP7mhT-gQ0ze3EgUBWbzXsiyNt21CZuhVh1tQ2PPpPfqFPEAIT32rVJLf-ihc9bGLT43zEaLHAzw_S9B-STfLOoyhKMgUKutOSn-kJxBMdcuzr2Y8HlKX8aU1p/s1600/IMG_3079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCEXAhvhM4m6GEn9PdNAnP7mhT-gQ0ze3EgUBWbzXsiyNt21CZuhVh1tQ2PPpPfqFPEAIT32rVJLf-ihc9bGLT43zEaLHAzw_S9B-STfLOoyhKMgUKutOSn-kJxBMdcuzr2Y8HlKX8aU1p/s320/IMG_3079.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You know, just drying out. Normal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgenUYsRrBi13Ou8GEifGHIxl1tUfkj6ymChF2yumlsBgJwIySlfh8bVPnfQdT5_BsdlZyzY0LGTXCT1I37zCVscmgHJBWdEVtDPRK4rz3g72VwybxUkv310qpLZwGXqBOOxf3Uyag4CFHo/s1600/IMG_3080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgenUYsRrBi13Ou8GEifGHIxl1tUfkj6ymChF2yumlsBgJwIySlfh8bVPnfQdT5_BsdlZyzY0LGTXCT1I37zCVscmgHJBWdEVtDPRK4rz3g72VwybxUkv310qpLZwGXqBOOxf3Uyag4CFHo/s320/IMG_3080.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So many presents! </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4CETqugXJIebGU-pW3UCaq3jutb72PyD5ovqg_LbYa9nmw9sVTTCXmCZ1TV1lLKhZKnhhwN-_-8fwpQ3ot7BoTzwFpqgcO1snIJqkLk4vjvigA0B8IOEbzPpmNPFicybaFzPIvoWCRlun/s1600/IMG_3154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4CETqugXJIebGU-pW3UCaq3jutb72PyD5ovqg_LbYa9nmw9sVTTCXmCZ1TV1lLKhZKnhhwN-_-8fwpQ3ot7BoTzwFpqgcO1snIJqkLk4vjvigA0B8IOEbzPpmNPFicybaFzPIvoWCRlun/s320/IMG_3154.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MOB, B, MOG</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR-lPS5qF9glob3ihVyS0t5w4DqBjt2PTz7Q8VtN4iUH96NXd2jh95gqJurAT6iIdQgqiCe2FPWzfDcXVzPWMQVm9w3loXju9lHEWPWU02ly-spEzWTy4wo_wzwKAcXFv_cORsyIU4ms8L/s1600/IMG_3139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR-lPS5qF9glob3ihVyS0t5w4DqBjt2PTz7Q8VtN4iUH96NXd2jh95gqJurAT6iIdQgqiCe2FPWzfDcXVzPWMQVm9w3loXju9lHEWPWU02ly-spEzWTy4wo_wzwKAcXFv_cORsyIU4ms8L/s320/IMG_3139.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emily Sadler: "Go stand by the flowers and take a picture"</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUtIbPE9JzkisQ3Hi1Pk7cdj_76wHyzmdWd4S0lagauYQ3P7MyfPOGIp_Icg9INw2YtZkS0qFnSAX7UNlMGTm2Shu6WO652l3IwZ2ZsPraw7yZVMTvwrJQ0ZPKh-LQ-OfPFIPvl59Vif6/s1600/IMG_3156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUtIbPE9JzkisQ3Hi1Pk7cdj_76wHyzmdWd4S0lagauYQ3P7MyfPOGIp_Icg9INw2YtZkS0qFnSAX7UNlMGTm2Shu6WO652l3IwZ2ZsPraw7yZVMTvwrJQ0ZPKh-LQ-OfPFIPvl59Vif6/s320/IMG_3156.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My wonderful bridesmaids/shower hostesses (minus LeAnn AND Julie)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gElK_3lOSBv-QioSh_fQWLp0JpcYK48CCJ7-fppB9N9-PH41sxI9xqTq2aWfnbtVgcAGFO0jxfoEbmXXcTh2OeZO_Q31iYt2wmnSSNJxNffhAyDRhyGHkk5G3JMomX2SGReznYtaYfvO/s1600/IMG_3069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gElK_3lOSBv-QioSh_fQWLp0JpcYK48CCJ7-fppB9N9-PH41sxI9xqTq2aWfnbtVgcAGFO0jxfoEbmXXcTh2OeZO_Q31iYt2wmnSSNJxNffhAyDRhyGHkk5G3JMomX2SGReznYtaYfvO/s320/IMG_3069.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reunion pic!</td></tr>
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Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-60250024464650352392012-12-04T19:02:00.002-06:002012-12-04T19:02:35.184-06:00Welcome WagonSince I can remember I always loved making new friends. Anytime there was a new kid at school I would eagerly go up to them and introduce myself and then probably ask them to come hang out at my house that weekend - I was such a winner. Most of the friendships I made didn't last long. Either they couldn't take all of my awkward-JTT obsessed awesomeness, or we just had nothing in common.<br />
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Then things got real in the 7th grade. I remember the day exactly. Behind the PE building I ran up to little shy Emily Erwin and proudly asked her if she knew my name. "Ummm ..." she responded. Looking back I cringe at that memory, but thankful for it because SIXTEEN years later Emily Erwin - now Sadler - is still my bff. </div>
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In high school we had our ups and downs (roller coaster of a year is what I wrote in Em's yearbook two or maybe three or maybe every year in a row) ... were were bff, then enemies, then frenemies, then bffs again. You know, a typical high school friendship.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirm68_22ftKXnE1WxHY-AeVrknS7Ruu9Cx_8V1DuwJkzlAMdQ1MpqWSX-TyKNpgqubQtFeXLmXmxRudOaiqv3z6MLZRrRubBUpNJw2EO72zR_393JGYiV7JC8BjTVrLdK0qell51Zsu_n2/s1600/jordanphotos-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirm68_22ftKXnE1WxHY-AeVrknS7Ruu9Cx_8V1DuwJkzlAMdQ1MpqWSX-TyKNpgqubQtFeXLmXmxRudOaiqv3z6MLZRrRubBUpNJw2EO72zR_393JGYiV7JC8BjTVrLdK0qell51Zsu_n2/s320/jordanphotos-24.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hotties, right?</td></tr>
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We went to college in different cities, had different experiences, but still remained friends. When I moved back home from college and when that silly boyfriend of mine broke my heart, she was there for me, distracting me from all that stupid heartbreak.<br />
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We had a year or so where we didn't talk (prob one of the saddest years of my life), and we had to learn how to fix our friendship. It's hard being friends for so long and learning new boundaries, that you maybe have grown apart, and to not take everything so personally. </div>
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And right when everything was getting just so perfect, she dropped a bomb on me: she and her hubs were moving to NOLA. Now, let me remind you that Emily has always talked about moving. I think since we became friends at the tender age of 12 she always told me it was a matter of time before she would be out of Shreveport. So, this past time when she said she and Derek were packing up and moving to New Orleans, it didn't really sink in until their going away party.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIuZquqYf1t0dfwXtPT5aUyXUgjNnRKcZj_rxLXld8OvIwHRDdL_XvohnIlji8hCIw28Ydvujqf9UefxWGfSbnMNW79yV0AxdwT-sVoU9F3N3nlWrjxJ7gxbT1ZCcmucIYPpG5WsjEVwZn/s1600/IMG_2645.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIuZquqYf1t0dfwXtPT5aUyXUgjNnRKcZj_rxLXld8OvIwHRDdL_XvohnIlji8hCIw28Ydvujqf9UefxWGfSbnMNW79yV0AxdwT-sVoU9F3N3nlWrjxJ7gxbT1ZCcmucIYPpG5WsjEVwZn/s320/IMG_2645.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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As I watched the slide show that Em's friend Alissa put together, I lost it. In public. Crying non-stop in front of tons of people as pics of Em and D played out in front of us. I think I was probably more upset about that year we didn't talk. I saw all the memories I missed out on even though I know we needed that time away from each other. After I reapplied my face, gulped down a marg, and gave Emily a hug (something that never happens - she is one of those "personal space people"), it hit me that my friend was for reals leaving me for a new town.<br />
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Since I'm a slacker, it's been almost five months since she's left, and I've already spent two fun weekends visiting her new home.<br />
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Here's to fun friendly weekends and exploring her new town (and all the food in it)!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii60Mroz2TE4aP_Ea9A65WqbbJZO5Nu8mY1CeAkivri2wLxLnqx8hmnHRkaMTlK4ab03S6Y1wmnO0Z2JFNkbwJt8EXzpERnvTeTunN2VcLmcrxcX_Zi8U8BhNGSDoBPjKSVARxHFjLETkK/s1600/IMG_3049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii60Mroz2TE4aP_Ea9A65WqbbJZO5Nu8mY1CeAkivri2wLxLnqx8hmnHRkaMTlK4ab03S6Y1wmnO0Z2JFNkbwJt8EXzpERnvTeTunN2VcLmcrxcX_Zi8U8BhNGSDoBPjKSVARxHFjLETkK/s320/IMG_3049.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-18189203402844973302012-12-04T18:51:00.005-06:002012-12-04T18:51:59.478-06:00every bride needs a valBefore Aaron even proposed to me, I would daydream about calling Valerie, an old college friend and now wedding planner, and hiring her to help plan my wedding. When the day finally came, I just couldn't contain my excitement. We talked for over an hour about ideas, locations, budgets, and flowers. I trusted her completely and let her creativity run wild. She created the most perfect wedding ceremony and reception any bride could ever ask for.<br />
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Valerie planned, designed, and executed our special day beyond our wildest dreams. She made sure everything from the save the dates, to the invites, the thank you notes, the ceremony program, the wedding reception map, the centerpieces the photo booth backdrop, EVERYTHING went together and was beautiful. My mom and I joked that this was Valerie's wedding, and we were just in it. She answered every email, phone call, text right away. She let me know I wasn't going crazy, that every bride goes through the same thing when I had my freak outs. And most of all she had fun with all of it. She went above and beyond her duties of a wedding planner, and I am so lucky to have had her by my side.<br />
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Because of Valerie and her sister Natalie, I didn't have to worry about a single thing on the big day. They decorate the reception, made sure everyone was on time, and didn't rest until I was down the aisle.<br />
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I really couldn't have gotten through the entire planning process or the wedding day without her. She's the very best.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfhG6XWnzTK3RI47UfpeOeZSU57Pj6gNGcIdHUnZliSwq-52MewplmnLYLG-t_xgD9vuenzmYNnh_Auvs96hoLRuEwIqcr09ZITEhcickL-tXoUiefivxqJORp-vwKwVoMAlXcQRQ7S_-/s1600/133661-grid1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPfhG6XWnzTK3RI47UfpeOeZSU57Pj6gNGcIdHUnZliSwq-52MewplmnLYLG-t_xgD9vuenzmYNnh_Auvs96hoLRuEwIqcr09ZITEhcickL-tXoUiefivxqJORp-vwKwVoMAlXcQRQ7S_-/s400/133661-grid1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Val and her sister Natalie<br /><br /><br />I'm really sad to say that Valerie no longer plans weddings. BUT she is an amazing invitation designer.<br /><a href="http://www.valmariepaper.com/">www.valmariepaper.com</a></td></tr>
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<br />Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-82365520320011036082012-12-04T18:31:00.000-06:002012-12-04T18:31:34.587-06:00Seriously, I hate tule <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I guess every girl dreams of her perfect wedding dress. I don't think I really ever did. I just knew what I didn't like.</div>
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I knew I wanted to feel pretty, and I wanted Aaron to think I looked just amazing. I also had that annoying Taylor Swift song stuck in my head every time I tried on dresses. The one where she says the bride was dressed in a gown shaped like a pastry. I certainly did't want anyone associating me with food.</div>
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So, once I determined what I did (amzingness) and didn't want (pastries), I set out trying to find the perfect dress. It took three different cities and five different stores, but I found the dress of my dreams.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>More pics after the break!</i></span></div>
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First let's take a look at the ones that didn't quite make the cut:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4JpBWi4lwU8INn6quLsrwftf40usBptPqw88JgRcINzV_5xZ2QEhc92T87V-uNnEiwvjS2h8JBU3f5QJVGjy907wT8EUy7J9UY8F3CtPo3hrvEM0shBA9TRW7mYtkHf9NEre_uwozkuac/s1600/IMG_1718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4JpBWi4lwU8INn6quLsrwftf40usBptPqw88JgRcINzV_5xZ2QEhc92T87V-uNnEiwvjS2h8JBU3f5QJVGjy907wT8EUy7J9UY8F3CtPo3hrvEM0shBA9TRW7mYtkHf9NEre_uwozkuac/s320/IMG_1718.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">This one was a strong contender and the first wedding dress I ever put on. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7lK_ddkHAW4KzPl2laYTkT0TJFL2sBTKnlX2JguU5jTg7wkmJXopXKomq-wtQWcafODbpKSM-mp3ZZ5vP-XRrsAr6C6VIypYUUncoSbB5HM9XBgHddS7cWsIw3wc0rM3oDwgsj-sQ5n4P/s1600/IMG_1722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7lK_ddkHAW4KzPl2laYTkT0TJFL2sBTKnlX2JguU5jTg7wkmJXopXKomq-wtQWcafODbpKSM-mp3ZZ5vP-XRrsAr6C6VIypYUUncoSbB5HM9XBgHddS7cWsIw3wc0rM3oDwgsj-sQ5n4P/s320/IMG_1722.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That face says it all. Little did I know what I'd end up with</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmp2qcazC4OYaWulSnbjIIOwrTvnT5GDIjc9iqYzSMSuCPKKyTRcJCU6xwOrO95nUz-jl0Cwjuy7foMhjLLtgpuvFb9jWqiAe52xFEE3Vrjy8vVzzoPBQa0aDerfkH2lmlz2ajB0EeTtn/s1600/IMG_1723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmp2qcazC4OYaWulSnbjIIOwrTvnT5GDIjc9iqYzSMSuCPKKyTRcJCU6xwOrO95nUz-jl0Cwjuy7foMhjLLtgpuvFb9jWqiAe52xFEE3Vrjy8vVzzoPBQa0aDerfkH2lmlz2ajB0EeTtn/s320/IMG_1723.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> I need to get out of this dress ASAP. I could barely take one step in it.</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwxIJKxhhsq-XWocp0eedPrzMDrQx95Lx5O6_BIxf5sqm5JQ9I79u_hiUq6xeKSxm03u6LEfGw3HxKO8eYfMQG8hZ4ExCTh3sCVatGow3CzoeXiKo9hM2Y5t-LRE1Rs5fWXsRsWtsGmnf/s1600/IMG_1843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwxIJKxhhsq-XWocp0eedPrzMDrQx95Lx5O6_BIxf5sqm5JQ9I79u_hiUq6xeKSxm03u6LEfGw3HxKO8eYfMQG8hZ4ExCTh3sCVatGow3CzoeXiKo9hM2Y5t-LRE1Rs5fWXsRsWtsGmnf/s320/IMG_1843.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: medium;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">This is the type of dress I though I would wear. And apparently the type of dress everyone else thought I would wear as well</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEEHsPCw3LtdYU9xS2ZQ5StM-5qTKVtDTu7jY0NMqg3QJlQtyVlyinnCoU2rGH-dt3NMJQ4BfqHQANHeMADUlfaoPDhVBD-_zQOqX_qy8wXDap5XavT20ISNG1CKnRF8VqqZNzZOarE9J/s1600/IMG_1847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEEHsPCw3LtdYU9xS2ZQ5StM-5qTKVtDTu7jY0NMqg3QJlQtyVlyinnCoU2rGH-dt3NMJQ4BfqHQANHeMADUlfaoPDhVBD-_zQOqX_qy8wXDap5XavT20ISNG1CKnRF8VqqZNzZOarE9J/s320/IMG_1847.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">My mom wanted me to try this one one. Obviously, it's just too much dress. Whoa.</span></div>
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After trying on the above dresses and not feeling that spark, my mom and I drove to Dallas with our first (and only) stop at LuLu's Bridal Boutique. We walked in and met the wedding dress consultant of my dreams. She was a tall big-boned woman with a thick Russian accent. Her name was Rose. I knew she would be the one that would find my dress. She asked me to show her some of the dress I tried on before and wanted me to tell her what I liked and didn't like about them. The first thing I said was I don't like tule. I really do hate that stuff.<br />
<br />
I found some dresses I liked and hurried back to the dressing room to get started. At the last minute she grabbed a dress completely made out of tule and instructed me to try it on first. She said she just got this one in and wanted to see it one someone. I listened to Rose since I was standing there naked, cold and ready to put a dress on.<br />
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I loved the dress immediately, and so did my mom. Since I pretty much had every dress in the store to still try on, I took it off and tried to talk myself out of liking a dress made out of tule. But every dress I tried on didn't compare. My mom showed me a picture of me in the dress, and I cried. I knew - and so did Rose - that it was the dress for me. I put it back on and tried to make the decision to say yes, no or maybe.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVBAhJToNf0VWozyLu-Qxoiuaeveip0GHJR9DOVtPeRnNNJnnKOf5MnNgnrIBQBVwYD2Y9X2E-EYK70WVskZtMAy6WVsWfz0UYnoytF-EmzXxoJGiOYh4k4KnBPGOOGATx2KBC-D31c5h/s1600/IMG_1878.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVBAhJToNf0VWozyLu-Qxoiuaeveip0GHJR9DOVtPeRnNNJnnKOf5MnNgnrIBQBVwYD2Y9X2E-EYK70WVskZtMAy6WVsWfz0UYnoytF-EmzXxoJGiOYh4k4KnBPGOOGATx2KBC-D31c5h/s320/IMG_1878.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love it! </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGoSEpy5HzEcspLQ8uwRRuGbjkYjkdhPmNjoPj8q_zqy3r46WCkO5GznOBPIQDzoxJrZmByLJeWEyEEfozedM7Txf9ZRZqz7-pI1PmN8Y4rGYua8AMXqSz9zNf7Cluvp1UNaFncE0AgsR/s1600/IMG_1879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGoSEpy5HzEcspLQ8uwRRuGbjkYjkdhPmNjoPj8q_zqy3r46WCkO5GznOBPIQDzoxJrZmByLJeWEyEEfozedM7Txf9ZRZqz7-pI1PmN8Y4rGYua8AMXqSz9zNf7Cluvp1UNaFncE0AgsR/s320/IMG_1879.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So beautiful, and so full of tule! </td></tr>
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I started to get a little overwhelmed, so we left the lovely dress and the lovely Rose and got some lunch. I didn't want to go try on any other dress because I loved that big tule dress. Mom asked if I was ready to make the decision to get THE ONE. I wasn't. So, we drove back to Shreveport. I slept on it. And we went and bought the dress after Christmas.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv6986KHjt0KaJaVW2MQNMg39agYxSZKBsi1d2L4BFM8R5UU2i5zjpueve5n2lqsrhsJoj2P0QVBPgiGkFcFcGrgABbVBSxpu4HLX3TxLNJU8LNgbW9HJsjE55UsDMBK3tuiK-XrHW8IsA/s1600/IMG_1962.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv6986KHjt0KaJaVW2MQNMg39agYxSZKBsi1d2L4BFM8R5UU2i5zjpueve5n2lqsrhsJoj2P0QVBPgiGkFcFcGrgABbVBSxpu4HLX3TxLNJU8LNgbW9HJsjE55UsDMBK3tuiK-XrHW8IsA/s320/IMG_1962.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dress is finally mine!</td></tr>
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Since the dress was made for someone who wasn't petite, I had to get the entire bodice reconstructed by a saint named Ruth. After three fittings (who am I? Catherine Middleton?) and a body that was 20 pounds lighter, my dress was ready. I hugged Ruth (my personal angel) and stuffed that dress in the back of my Jetta.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXna3AKIIIN78_ZghRS_TCTgaziMG9iFvGDtT1EZuPIn_5wYN-MBcmvzWKTB5PqogUXnPPfZVyGEgGOkymZiYuI7GVE6BD9zJ_iLXCBeZkvwxffwhO2GQLLQYh51Sp_5uDlArxJpmvrnRG/s1600/IMG_2819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXna3AKIIIN78_ZghRS_TCTgaziMG9iFvGDtT1EZuPIn_5wYN-MBcmvzWKTB5PqogUXnPPfZVyGEgGOkymZiYuI7GVE6BD9zJ_iLXCBeZkvwxffwhO2GQLLQYh51Sp_5uDlArxJpmvrnRG/s320/IMG_2819.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first fitting. Love the bangs, hate the stomach pooch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3SsLUyjkMJKs9svH3muOOCJ5lwdN0TVL4e2ZnaTL5V9-7KotpdyfoRLMTOBQJm_CL9uHKwlNfeU5-NFSuCj1cVdfIlXr17LbBcnoecmNjn3gECEjU26ZuI21F3Tq1ByRl-IcNWmB7Lb26/s1600/IMG_2818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3SsLUyjkMJKs9svH3muOOCJ5lwdN0TVL4e2ZnaTL5V9-7KotpdyfoRLMTOBQJm_CL9uHKwlNfeU5-NFSuCj1cVdfIlXr17LbBcnoecmNjn3gECEjU26ZuI21F3Tq1ByRl-IcNWmB7Lb26/s320/IMG_2818.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice all the bunching in the back. Ruth will fix that - now worries!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichvZQFctVQTUJamALCP5KKdMoQz0CoDFxjp-wxX0CEk1LDav2DSqBx3VYRKdOaRwI1d861CCuiGw5Gwovp-w7FKy2oaxnUmxSMy1GPEhHsaPKHk2M2HfjkGVkNcBtSlUMK8E2Su_N015N/s1600/IMG_3143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichvZQFctVQTUJamALCP5KKdMoQz0CoDFxjp-wxX0CEk1LDav2DSqBx3VYRKdOaRwI1d861CCuiGw5Gwovp-w7FKy2oaxnUmxSMy1GPEhHsaPKHk2M2HfjkGVkNcBtSlUMK8E2Su_N015N/s320/IMG_3143.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Second fitting. Looking better. Ruth and I are now BFFs. </td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghy1sxZzsEMV0m_qpfalApM3MWWcEDXwd_ETTE60L77Sa-3lhvL8YXqadBwiRbCuZa1Y4tcLI_R-LCKGSaDd_SuLiPtX_DYsfOS_wq4sN8wnvRE4eR4rl-hHcZ6tAIzWWWkMbsHoYvugUs/s1600/IMG_3401.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghy1sxZzsEMV0m_qpfalApM3MWWcEDXwd_ETTE60L77Sa-3lhvL8YXqadBwiRbCuZa1Y4tcLI_R-LCKGSaDd_SuLiPtX_DYsfOS_wq4sN8wnvRE4eR4rl-hHcZ6tAIzWWWkMbsHoYvugUs/s320/IMG_3401.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Final fitting. So ready to get hitched in this thing. </span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And now because this post is already too long and full of entirely too many pictures of myself ... here are my lovely bridal portraits. It should be noted that I have the best photographer in the world. I pretty much want to be BFFs with Britney Smith from Magnolia Pair. </div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.999998092651367px;">Copyright Magnolia Pair LLC |</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.999998092651367px;"> </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.magnoliapair.com&h=hAQGuLWAK&s=1" rel="nofollow nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.999998092651367px; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">www.magnoliapair.com</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.999998092651367px;">Copyright Magnolia Pair LLC |</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.999998092651367px;"> </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.magnoliapair.com&h=hAQGuLWAK&s=1" rel="nofollow nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.999998092651367px; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">www.magnoliapair.com</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.999998092651367px;">Copyright Magnolia Pair LLC |</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.999998092651367px;"> </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.magnoliapair.com&h=hAQGuLWAK&s=1" rel="nofollow nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.999998092651367px; text-decoration: initial;" target="_blank">www.magnoliapair.com</a></span></div>
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Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-9338224304165754982012-11-12T09:35:00.000-06:002012-11-12T09:39:34.477-06:00tigers lost, irish won, and i got married <span style="font-family: inherit;">Nine days ago I got hitched. It was such an incredible day. I was surrounded by all of my favorite people, married my best friend, and danced my ass (and pretty much the bottom of my wedding dress off). Also LSU lost to defending BCS champions, Alabama, and Notre Dame won in triple overtime as my dad walked me down the aisle. Side note - when did I learn so much about football. Who am I?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I hope to revive this blog of mine as I has promised I would a million times over. But I really do want to write down every moment of the past year or so. It's been such an amazing year getting ready for my big day, and I don't want to forget any of it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Highlights will include:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">What? My wedding day is on some major football game day? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Pre-wedding activities = too many whiskey and cokes</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">How you should never get married without a wedding planner. Mine was just extra fabulous.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dad checking his phone for the Notre Dame score minutes before walking me down the aisle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My perfect wedding dress.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Engagement pics, or the day I learned models don't have it so easy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Showered with a shit ton of love - bridal showers an bachelorette party recaps</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The most perfect wedding ceremony that ever existed minus my garter falling down while walking down the aisle, and how my tulle wedding dress collected dust.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Spending my wedding day with my favorite ladies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">How my brother stole the show at the reception with his rendition of Vanilla Ice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">How my uncle and Amy stole the show at the rehearsal dinner with his incredible poem and her stand up routine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">How I brought down the house at the bridesmaids breakfast. I had everyone in tears. It was amazing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My dress came unbustled and everyone stepped on it. It's cool - I just spilled champagne all over it too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Post wedding day anxiety</span><br />
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And lots more! </div>
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Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-29861035466060710812012-07-06T13:30:00.000-06:002012-07-06T13:31:40.278-06:00Light HousekeepingJust a few things before I head to the beach for the Twenty Twelve Marshall Fam VaCRAYtion ...<br />
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Today Aaron David and I celebrate our four year anniversary. Four years ago I wrote <a href="http://fantasticlies.blogspot.com/2008/07/so-i-met-someone.html">this </a>when I was a smitten kitten, and then last year I wrote <a href="http://fantasticlies.blogspot.com/2011/07/he-put-ring-on-it.html">this </a>when he popped the big question on year ago today. It's been a grand four years, and I just can't wait to be his stinking wife already.<br />
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We also completed our wedding website. It's kinda bare bones and silly, but should you want to purchase a gift for us, or download the iPhone app to take pics at our weddings, please <a href="http://www.mywedding.com/jordanandaaron/">click here</a>.<br />
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Monday is my birthday. I shall spend it laying on the beach with my momma reading trashy novels and listening to the waves crash onto shore. I also hope there is a cake or ice cream involved. Also, I wouldn't mind a margarita or five.<br />
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Happy weekend!
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Aren't we just the cutest? That dang smirk. </span></i></div>Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-19389605257022917892012-07-03T15:14:00.000-06:002012-07-03T15:14:01.151-06:00InspiredThis summer has already been filled with all kinds of inspiration for me. Something that has certainly been lacking in my life. I've been inspired to write, to read, to decorate, in my wardrobe, in my friendships, and most importantly to say yes to new opportunities. I'm ready to put it all down on paper - err - the internet. And this time I'm doing it for myself. I'm ready to write about the kind of wife, daughter, friend, mother (not anytime soon),person I want to be and detail the person I've become.
I'm ready y'all. Fantastic Lies is about to get a lot more fantastic after a year break.Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-954097976898306892011-08-23T17:45:00.004-06:002011-08-23T17:55:40.824-06:00Girl TalkAaron David Harris is my hero because he says stuff like this while I watch the Bachelor Pad:
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<br />"And by starting something with Michelle he means getting in that vagina. I mean let's just be real here"
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<br />Also, I can day dream about doing <a href="http://matesofstate.shop.musictoday.com/Product.aspx?cp=10281_50578&pc=S5AM06">this</a> or <a href="http://matesofstate.shop.musictoday.com/Product.aspx?cp=10281_50578&pc=S5AM07">this</a> with him. Anyone have a spare thou they would like to donate to us? I mean we have tickets to see them in November, so why not hang out with them while we are both in the same place at the same time?
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<br />One more thing, we make beautiful puppies together.
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<br />I <3 him.Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-41552943732144529532011-07-11T20:35:00.005-06:002011-07-11T20:59:13.351-06:00He Put a Ring On ItAlmost three years ago to the day I wrote <a href="http://fantasticlies.blogspot.com/2008/07/so-i-met-someone.html">this</a> about one Aaron David Harris. I knew then that he was going to be the one I married. I mean, he sang the guy parts to Mates of States songs for goodness sakes. <br /><br />I could never pin point when he was going to pop the big question. I thought he would do it <a href="http://fantasticlies.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-left-my-heart-in-pacific-northwest.html">this time</a> and then again <a href="http://fantasticlies.blogspot.com/2011/05/bucket-list.html">this one time</a>. But it never happened. <br /><br />Then last Wednesday night on our three year anni, I walked in the door from driving 8 hours back from Marshall Fam Vaycray and saw this slide show posted on our wall <span style="font-style:italic;">(it has been edited slightly to include a picture of us, engaged, and a pic of my ring</span>). <br /><br /><iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Hy8HeTAI4oo?hl=en&fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />During the end of the slide show where we are supposed to be on top of the Space Needle, Aaron got down on one knee with a Lego Space Needle replica with the ring on top and asked me to marry him. I haven't been able to stop smiling and looking at this gorgeous rock since. <br /><br />I absolutely can't wait to be Mrs. Aaron David Harris.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">And for the record, we are NOT moving to Wisconsin. </span>Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-21190404072590009582011-05-02T17:41:00.008-06:002011-05-02T18:06:06.592-06:00Bucket ListThis one time, I saw Arcade Fire and it was amazing. The End. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcVKUR2BGmmJF8l5TEAzTxmDIfEitOy7u3oecatDOvIMD9sahkbMuAiEqScRtoyKdkQfoADjVv0KGZWWHrHf6sV7Kk2xfAm3WLM8Ju1Bpn0x1pRtK3BTCIAbPdquiNYzCA98b1egBNiiq4/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcVKUR2BGmmJF8l5TEAzTxmDIfEitOy7u3oecatDOvIMD9sahkbMuAiEqScRtoyKdkQfoADjVv0KGZWWHrHf6sV7Kk2xfAm3WLM8Ju1Bpn0x1pRtK3BTCIAbPdquiNYzCA98b1egBNiiq4/s320/photo.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602271952720371778" /></a><br />So, not really the end. I've wanted to see them since I first heard "Keep the Car Running" in my ex-boyfriends car. I played the song on repeat because I loved it so much. Then I listened to their first record, <span style="font-style:italic;">Funeral</span>, and literally heard magic. How can a band be this good? It was then and there in the car that I added Arcade Fire to my list, bucket list if you will, of bands I must see before I die. The only remaining bands are Modest Mouse, The Decemberists, and The Smiths. We all know that last one will never happen. So, just the two for now. I am lucky enough to have seen most of my concert bucket list in college. But last Saturday night at the whatever-it's-called-now arena in Dallas, I marked them off. And they may never be topped. <br /><br />Y'all, I was on the second row. I've never been that close at a concert in my life. AND Win Butler's hand grazed mine as he walked across the guardrails.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLGag6CIlr-QWxzkXknrg88ItzFTmPoFyNH3c0BPH3RaPcbcrZdJ27JZDOqEHd0enIgEH4-AxH6-mkf3QHNbsBxb97EkRwQDiRqKa2Ut6uar_G0NpxpeWSEdHP9xuPTdYBb6rPjNgkD5ZL/s1600/photo+%25283%2529.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLGag6CIlr-QWxzkXknrg88ItzFTmPoFyNH3c0BPH3RaPcbcrZdJ27JZDOqEHd0enIgEH4-AxH6-mkf3QHNbsBxb97EkRwQDiRqKa2Ut6uar_G0NpxpeWSEdHP9xuPTdYBb6rPjNgkD5ZL/s320/photo+%25283%2529.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602273032252802594" /></a><br /><br />They sang all my favorite songs, and I even fell in love with Regine. Who I thought I hated. I don't. I love her.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSYrluoO0Uoo0-B23FL7A0LXxIGS8jmgQt8sVDK0iYd3rubl4VaUS4zbNXw1zSZzh_8V2cPHfQRNF2FxTXILRg5lWWOE9QfP2dFTaSLVbuqyxgFCcy-qAB3UVzd6di2cCAAv63NjrA6Hp/s1600/photo+%25281%2529.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSYrluoO0Uoo0-B23FL7A0LXxIGS8jmgQt8sVDK0iYd3rubl4VaUS4zbNXw1zSZzh_8V2cPHfQRNF2FxTXILRg5lWWOE9QfP2dFTaSLVbuqyxgFCcy-qAB3UVzd6di2cCAAv63NjrA6Hp/s320/photo+%25281%2529.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602272820561226178" /></a><br /><br />I may have died from all the awesomeness and then came back to life when they ended the show with "Wake Up."<br /><br />I really just can't find words to express how much I loved this show.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIRpsXYP2Gg9U0sRt1DcyazGLLTRTvtaNB0I44OtMFD90RSVZlmwFgAOw2zDkWMcyVC149M1zEC2Q8T6cL2Jt199KRm4woyxB22AOUUg0OyIhcygitYQOpywQEoZvMrwaRukZrLgYSKVGv/s1600/photo+%25282%2529.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIRpsXYP2Gg9U0sRt1DcyazGLLTRTvtaNB0I44OtMFD90RSVZlmwFgAOw2zDkWMcyVC149M1zEC2Q8T6cL2Jt199KRm4woyxB22AOUUg0OyIhcygitYQOpywQEoZvMrwaRukZrLgYSKVGv/s320/photo+%25282%2529.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602272547777960994" /></a> <br /><br />The End.Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-89076144696073984642010-12-27T21:12:00.002-06:002010-12-27T21:18:07.699-06:00Carb Fest 2010I've made an executive decision. I'm seriously going on a diet. South Beach to be exact. My dad went on this diet a few years ago. He lost about 50 lbs. He's gone back on it in full force over the holidays and has lost 8 lbs in 6 or so days. <br /><br />Starting Jan. 1, 2011 I will give up carbs, sugar, alcohol, potatoes, etc. for a good while. I stepped on several scales recently and it wasn't a pretty number. <br /><br />In addition to this diet, I will return to spinning and the treadmill and perhaps some weights. <br /><br />In the mean time I plan on loading up on carbs, sugar, and alcohol. Herby K's, momma's gumbo and potato salad, and my final meal of the year at Chianti's. <br /><br />Cheers!Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-34171010062169298632010-12-03T17:50:00.003-06:002010-12-03T17:57:59.754-06:00GleekI'm about to embarrass my adorable boyfriend like a mom embarrasses her 12 year old daughter by asking (loudly) what kind of feminine product she needs? The super ones, honey ... because of your HEAVY FLOW? <br /><br />Anyway, back on point. Let me set the scene. I was laying in bed covered in puppies. Aaron lingering lingering lingering the bedroom on his way to the bathroom before getting ready for bed. He turns on Florence and the Machine and starts clapping along, then playing air guitar, then he goes into full on Glee mode. He starts doing this hand extension across his chest while bending his knee. He claims this move as the signature Glee move. With a super smile on his face. Then he goes into Finn mode by claiming he is in high school, he plays football and likes to sing. WHY IS LIFE SO DIFFICULT?!? Then proceeds with the signature Glee move and into another made up dance move where he snaps with some kind of high kick. Guys, I don't know what was going on in my bedroom. But I know I want more of it. Every night. <br /><br />He's my favorite. Forever.Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-62160091035930374582010-11-07T19:13:00.007-06:002010-11-07T20:16:17.680-06:00Epic Park Day FailShreveport, Louisiana has perfect weather today. PERFECT. In addition to the extra hour we got from daylight savings time, the sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, and the temps were in the low 70s. After lunch with my parents, Aaron and I decided to take the pups to the park next to the Red River. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdPuRKVfV4Xtk9aNdmodAjX5m2WRj6Mo_4mwQeCopVH3Lxwr6cvXx63CKeSg3vl82yqP61zM-e3ih5qKezLR4CojcZRpkHhfZCy7cGlCAScG30zl-eOjUOU8Nq9t-w44z7TAXhGBh51r7/s1600/photo+(1).JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdPuRKVfV4Xtk9aNdmodAjX5m2WRj6Mo_4mwQeCopVH3Lxwr6cvXx63CKeSg3vl82yqP61zM-e3ih5qKezLR4CojcZRpkHhfZCy7cGlCAScG30zl-eOjUOU8Nq9t-w44z7TAXhGBh51r7/s320/photo+(1).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536994535933865778" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKiJgbfkJnFDUJUo5HO9e3PS_LvAUSQQPIEi30FASxPWzAqpxUBBltODKPnKo9pV5BRWyi6IdkQ4_j8Ui5LVqtwIDkHNXVUsm4fPcXlmo9SbsOfcUelf730DWGSgsBKIUttVuoOrBHZjbH/s1600/photo+(3).JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKiJgbfkJnFDUJUo5HO9e3PS_LvAUSQQPIEi30FASxPWzAqpxUBBltODKPnKo9pV5BRWyi6IdkQ4_j8Ui5LVqtwIDkHNXVUsm4fPcXlmo9SbsOfcUelf730DWGSgsBKIUttVuoOrBHZjbH/s320/photo+(3).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536994058273964786" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQp3ON5xbBJkzt04JlSd5N5XI8IlkS3LPZiyDoRKSR-l6KuQdLmitQD7_NuG3I8KqR7qm611UbVmlng3rjkh9xwAMJiS9cWWn9lCnMLZ3WGVWVgGPFwuoqz9apLv0DidPspWTNEsnAd_vF/s1600/photo+(2).JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQp3ON5xbBJkzt04JlSd5N5XI8IlkS3LPZiyDoRKSR-l6KuQdLmitQD7_NuG3I8KqR7qm611UbVmlng3rjkh9xwAMJiS9cWWn9lCnMLZ3WGVWVgGPFwuoqz9apLv0DidPspWTNEsnAd_vF/s320/photo+(2).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536994242895164994" /></a><br />The dogs loved walking around the park, stomping in the leaves, and chasing bugs. <br /><br />Aaron wanted to teach Penny to play fetch with the frisbee. Since Penny is new to the family, we weren't sure if we could let her off her leash. I threw the frisbee, and Aaron ran with Penny on the leash to catch it. Next thing we know, Penny is off her leash and chasing after the egrets in the runoff from the river. We chased Penny up and down the banks of the river runoff. That dog has mad sprinting skills. For a moment I really thought we were never going to get her back and almost broke down into tears. We screamed her name. Asked her if she wanted a treat. Did every trick in the book. She wasn't interested. Aaron chased Penny for a good 45 minutes, then had to make a trip into "uncharted" woods, and finally emerged with our soaking wet, mud-covered dog in tow.<br /><br />Next time we will know to never let that damn dog off the leash.Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-36187064219332837212010-09-30T17:05:00.003-06:002010-09-30T20:19:40.297-06:00SpinningSo, I have committed myself to a 5:30 AM spin class two days a week. DID YOU HEAR ME?! I have to wake up at 5ish two days a week. This was the first week. And let me just tell you about it. My boss and I got the idea last week to go to this class. Now I feel that I can't let my stinking boss down. Therefore I drag my ass outta bed at 5:00 AM to get dressed, drink water, get my butt to the gym, set my bike up, and start pedaling. Y'all this shit is hard. I feel like I am going to die. Then I get this adrenaline rush. And I kick that bike's ass. Then I die again. <br /><br />My instructor is a 65 year old retired Marine (ok I made that up, but he could be). He tells the class of 7 - mostly of older women - to KEEP IT UP! Come on ladies 30 MPH THAT'S QUICK! <br /><br />I am pretty sure my behind is chaffed. I learned today that I need biking shorts. According to the 50 year old lady next to me ... you can't make it in the class without bike shorts. <br /><br />And here I thought I had enough padding back there to begin with.Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-43384385784305935802010-09-07T16:38:00.004-06:002010-09-13T18:03:47.808-06:00September PlansSeptember, September, oh how I am so glad you have finally arrived! <br /><br />Here is what I plan to do with you:<br /><br />NOLA weekend to see <a href="http://whitegirldance.blogspot.com/">her</a> this week. Attractions to include: VIP NFL Kick-Off parade and concert featuring Taylor Swift and DMB, eating a million, shopping at Anthropologie among other shops, Davenport Lounge, Frenchman Street, and all the fun you can cram into four days.<br /><br />Season premieres of my favorite shows.<br /><br />Racing for the Cure for this amazing woman I have never met. <a href="http://kickincancer.wordpress.com/">Read her blog</a>. Share her story. Grab a tissue.<br /><br />Playing in a work-sponsored softball tournament to help support the American Heart Association. I've already requested matching shirts to be made, and I will be sporting the cutest dang baseball pants/socks combo anyone could ever have. <br /><br />Anxiously awaiting the cooler weather so I can wear my new shoes (<a href="http://www.dsw.com/shoe/madden+girl+rhiana+bootie?prodId=207098&category=dsw10cat120040">here</a>, <a href="http://www.dsw.com/shoe/madden+girl+ranitaa+bootie?prodId=207037&category=dsw10cat120040&brand=">here</a>, and <a href="http://www.target.com/gp/detail.html/182-6850459-5249012?asin=B003IRWG2W&AFID=Froogle_df&LNM=|B003IRWG2W&CPNG=&ci_src=14110944&ci_sku=B003IRWG2W&ref=tgt_adv_XSG10001">here</a>). I went on a mini shoe shopping spree this weekend.<br /><br />Burn my fall candles, bake my fall treats, and sip my fall drinks.<br /><br />September, thanks for hurrying your ass up. I can't wait to enjoy the shit outta you.<br /><br />Love, <br />JordanJordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-34208130886270541092010-08-22T19:27:00.003-06:002010-08-22T19:35:35.224-06:00I Hate Month Number EightAugust can suck it. Maybe that's a little harsh, but I am just not a fan of this month. Now or ever. Nothing fun happens in August (with the exception of my <a href="http://somethingelsesavvy.blogspot.com/">Lydia</a> and Megan's respective birthdays). <br /><br />And it's hot. Really, really, really hot. <br /><br />As I have mentioned, the past few weeks haven't been my favorite. Between bat issues, sick pup issues, sick Jordo issues, general life issues, and OMG THE HEAT issues ... I am just over it. I'm ready for a fresh start, a new month, a new season, and a new attitude.<br /><br />Here's to making it through the last week and a half of August and to welcoming in September!Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4762621016866380153.post-30087316234161716232010-08-15T09:19:00.001-06:002010-08-15T09:26:47.625-06:00Temper TuneI'm sure everyone and their mom has heard of this band and song. But it's my new favorite thing. <br /><br />Enjoy.<br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4C8e7nNLZNs?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4C8e7nNLZNs?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Jordohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16049319294944726966noreply@blogger.com2