<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2720350277715666851</id><updated>2011-07-28T18:00:27.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>(wife.)</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>(wife.)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07382314733862881357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUu2baTLo2I/AAAAAAAABMc/_uO15g2Vpvc/S220/_MG_2741.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2720350277715666851.post-448899894298456494</id><published>2009-07-18T22:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T23:31:47.679-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pepitas Paprikash</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;You know that early-Internet-days game where you had to type two random words into a search engine and see if you had the most random search terms ever? Well, nowadays it's damn near &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;impossible&lt;/span&gt; to do that, even if you limit it with quotes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just pan-roasted myself some &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pepitas"&gt;pepitas&lt;/a&gt; (I use them in place of nuts in a lot of recipes, because my headache-prone head doesn't do well with nuts). I tossed about a 1/2 cup of them with *maybe* a teaspoon of [regular] olive oil (they release some of their own oil when cooked, so you don't need much), sprinkled them with a tiny bit of sea salt and a good dose of hot smoked paprika, and tossed them in a nonstick pan over high heat for about 3 minutes, until they started to pop.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I shall call them "Pepitas Paprikash." And ohmygoodness are they ever delicious.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Out of curiosity, I googled it without quotes and got &lt;a href="http://www.google.com/search?client=safari&amp;amp;rls=en&amp;amp;q=pepitas+paprikash&amp;amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;amp;oe=UTF-8"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;. Not seeing the two words together, though, piqued my curiosity more. So I put quotes around it and got &lt;a href="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&amp;amp;client=safari&amp;amp;rls=en&amp;amp;q=%22pepitas+paprikash%22&amp;amp;aq=f&amp;amp;oq=&amp;amp;aqi="&gt;THIS&lt;/a&gt;. (Edit: it *used* to say &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.google.com/images/yellow_warning.gif" alt="Information" height="14" width="14" /&gt; No results found... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Georgia, fantasy;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Georgia, fantasy;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Georgia, fantasy;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;but not anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh HELLS yes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I mean, I'm not naive. I've been around the pepita block a few times and know people have roasted pumpkin seeds with paprika before. But do you see where I'm going? If anyone else ever thinks to google those two words *without* quotes, they will be directed Right. Here. Think of the fame! The fortune!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unfortunately, though, not the pictures. I snarfed all of them (uh, the pepitas, not the pictures) before I photographed, and if I make more right now, I'll snarf them, and that would be un-good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here, maybe this will tide you over. Not. But I did just say "not."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 640px; height: 326px;" src="http://www.nutsonline.com/images/items/07524l1463.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 623px; height: 700px;" src="http://www.thespicehouse.com/file/product-large/spanish-pap-hot-large.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;sources: &lt;a href="http://www.nutsonline.com/snacks/pumpkinseeds/organic-salted.html"&gt;pepitas&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.thespicehouse.com/spices/spanish-smoked-hot-paprika-pimenton-de-la-vera-picante#"&gt;paprika&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But now that I'm [maybe...] back on the blog train, I could...say...post those wedding details I never got around to. And write about all the yummy food I'm making this month while I'm actually not traveling for once. And whine (snarkily and sardonically, of course) about things, because that's what blogs are for. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You with me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2720350277715666851-448899894298456494?l=parentheticalwife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/feeds/448899894298456494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2720350277715666851&amp;postID=448899894298456494' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default/448899894298456494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default/448899894298456494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/2009/07/pepitas-paprikash.html' title='Pepitas Paprikash'/><author><name>(wife.)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07382314733862881357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUu2baTLo2I/AAAAAAAABMc/_uO15g2Vpvc/S220/_MG_2741.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2720350277715666851.post-908482981846645542</id><published>2009-02-08T22:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T22:26:38.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WHOA.</title><content type='html'>Holy CRAPOLA, people. I think I'm not subscribed to comments on my new blog (or something's messed up, because I haven't been getting email notification). I'm an idiot. Or Blogger's an idiot. In any case, thank you so much for all your comments on the previous wedding updates, and I'm so sorry I didn't reply! I just saw all of them!!! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm in Helsinki right now for three concerts with &lt;a href="http://www.iceorg.org/"&gt;ICE&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.iceorg.org/"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;on &lt;a href="http://www.musicanova.fi/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; festival and am having a great time so far. The jury's still out on whether I'm going to try reindeer pizza.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;More soon, and thanks again!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SY_MY07aSsI/AAAAAAAABcg/2Ivbe9J6eAc/s400/815184650_50e19e0221.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300680013335120578" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Helsinki's Sibelius Monument&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1297/815184650_50e19e0221.jpg?v=0"&gt;source&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2720350277715666851-908482981846645542?l=parentheticalwife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/feeds/908482981846645542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2720350277715666851&amp;postID=908482981846645542' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default/908482981846645542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default/908482981846645542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/2009/02/whoa.html' title='WHOA.'/><author><name>(wife.)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07382314733862881357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUu2baTLo2I/AAAAAAAABMc/_uO15g2Vpvc/S220/_MG_2741.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SY_MY07aSsI/AAAAAAAABcg/2Ivbe9J6eAc/s72-c/815184650_50e19e0221.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2720350277715666851.post-8006902144465399750</id><published>2009-02-03T21:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T22:17:54.228-08:00</updated><title type='text'>fresh start?</title><content type='html'>It's been over a month since my last post. I'm blogged out. I'm not sure where my blogging is going, but if you're still subscribing to the feed, thanks!... and I was inspired by &lt;a href="http://adouble.blogspot.com"&gt;Amy&lt;/a&gt; to do this, probably because I just got done with the "25 things" Facebook meme.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;99 things&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rules: Bold the things you've done, and post the whole list on your blog. Leave me a comment if you do it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1) started my own blog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2) slept under the stars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3) played in a band&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4) visited Hawaii&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5) watched a meteor shower&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6) given more than I could afford to charity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;7) been to Disneyland&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;8) climbed a mountain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9) held a praying mantis&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;10) sung a solo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11) bungee jumped&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;12) visited Paris&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;13) watched a lightning storm at sea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;14) taught myself an art from scratch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;15) adopted a child&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;16) had food poisoning&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;17) walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;18) grown my own vegetables&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;19) seen the Mona Lisa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;20) slept on an overnight train&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;21) had a pillow fight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;22) hitchhiked&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;23) taken a sick day when I wasn't ill&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;24) built a snow fort&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;25) held a lamb&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;26) gone skinny dipping&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;27) run a marathon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;28) ridden in a gondola in Venice&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;29) seen a total eclipse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;30) watched a sunrise or sunset&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;31) hit a home run&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;32) been on a cruise&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;33) seen Niagara Falls in person&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;34) visited the birthplace of my ancestors&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;35) seen an Amish community&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;36) taught myself a new language&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;37) had enough money to be truly satisfied&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;38) seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;39) gone rock climbing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;40) seen Michelangelo's David&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;41) sung karaoke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;42) seen Old Faithful geyser erupt&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;43) bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;44) visited Africa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;45) walked on a beach by moonlight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;46) been transported in an ambulance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;47) had my portrait painted&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;48) gone deep-sea fishing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;49) seen the Sistine Chapel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;50) been to the top of the Eiffel Tower&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;51) gone scuba diving or snorkeling&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;52) kissed in the rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;53) played in the mud&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;54) gone to a drive-in theater&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;55) been in a movie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;56) visited the Great Wall of China&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;57) started a business&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;58) taken a martial arts class&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;59) visited Russia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;60) served at a soup kitchen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;61) sold Girl Scout Cookies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;62) gone whale watching&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;63) gotten flowers for no reason&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;64) donated blood, platelets, or plasma&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;65) gone skydiving&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;66) visited a Nazi concentration camp&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;67) bounced a check&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;68) flown in a helicopter&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;69) saved a favorite childhood toy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;70) visited the Lincoln Memorial&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;71) eaten caviar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;72) pieced a quilt&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;73) stood in Times Square&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;74) toured the Everglades&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;75) been fired from a job&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;76) seen the Changing of the Guard in London&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;77) broken a bone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;78) been a passenger on a motorcycle&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;79) seen the Grand Canyon &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;80) published a book&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;81) visited the Vatican&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;82) bought a brand new car&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;83) walked in Jerusalem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;84) had my picture in the newspaper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;85) kissed a stranger at midnight on New Year's Eve&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;86) visited the White House&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;87) killed and prepared an animal for eating&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;88) had chicken pox&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;89) saved someone's life&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;90) sat on a jury&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;91) met someone famous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;92) joined a book club&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;93) gotten a tattoo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;94) had a baby&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;95) seen the Alamo&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;96) swum in the Great Salt Lake&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;97) been involved in a lawsuit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;98) owned a cell phone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;99) been stung by a bee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2720350277715666851-8006902144465399750?l=parentheticalwife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/feeds/8006902144465399750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2720350277715666851&amp;postID=8006902144465399750' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default/8006902144465399750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default/8006902144465399750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/2009/02/fresh-start.html' title='fresh start?'/><author><name>(wife.)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07382314733862881357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUu2baTLo2I/AAAAAAAABMc/_uO15g2Vpvc/S220/_MG_2741.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2720350277715666851.post-2782006327215826808</id><published>2009-01-03T10:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T17:33:11.773-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The less serious part.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This fortnightly posting thing is making me feel really guilty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OK, I'm over it. More pictures!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0V6miXQI/AAAAAAAABS0/w30985U9hFE/s1600-h/b_MG_3086.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0V6miXQI/AAAAAAAABS0/w30985U9hFE/s400/b_MG_3086.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142776157396226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We hired an AWESOME klezmer band to augment the otherwise iPod-only reception. I had been adamant about not spending too much money on live music because groomsman Randy has an incredible collection and offered to make playlists, and honestly I get really annoyed with live bands at weddings because I can never hear myself (or anyone else) speak. The guy in the middle playing tuba, Ryan Zawel, is the leader of the Cornell University Klezmer Ensemble (CUKE!). I started going to rehearsals and playing with them a little bit in the fall, and I realized it would be amazingly fun to have them play during cocktail hour. They got everyone in the mood to party and we started dancing right after Tim and I returned from Yichud (our ceremonial cider-drinking), which really got the reception hopping. It was torturous to hear all the amazing music coming from downstairs while we were sitting up in our room, so I dragged Tim down there before we were supposed to go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0VTwdDMI/AAAAAAAABSs/m6_tjHphXpI/s1600-h/b_MG_3133.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0VTwdDMI/AAAAAAAABSs/m6_tjHphXpI/s400/b_MG_3133.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142765730008258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Right when we came down, my dad introduced us (with unchanged names) and gave a toast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0VH2_UdI/AAAAAAAABSk/THyW-BCWpLI/s1600-h/b_MG_3148.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0VH2_UdI/AAAAAAAABSk/THyW-BCWpLI/s400/b_MG_3148.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142762536194514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He took the opportunity to make fun of me (that's my glare, in case you couldn't tell).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0U36y4JI/AAAAAAAABSc/0dqizAQO7lA/s1600-h/b_MG_3151.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0U36y4JI/AAAAAAAABSc/0dqizAQO7lA/s400/b_MG_3151.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142758257189010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I LOVE this picture of our friend Gabe LITERALLY SLAPPING HIS KNEE. Apparently my dad is funny! :-)  (I can't remember if I blogged about it, but Gabe and his now-husband, Drew--right next to him in the gray suit--got married in June in Saratoga Springs, NY. One of the most amazing weddings I've ever attended - beautiful, personal, and absolutely incredibly fun.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0Uj853NI/AAAAAAAABSU/2uQnJVxCEqk/s1600-h/b_MG_3160.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0Uj853NI/AAAAAAAABSU/2uQnJVxCEqk/s400/b_MG_3160.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142752897326290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This picture of my aunt and grandpa completely encapsulates the scene. My grandpa's giving us his I'm-a-wise-sage look... which is very believable. :-D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0FFrQdwI/AAAAAAAABSM/sTnYX5Fc2gQ/s1600-h/b_MG_3177.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0FFrQdwI/AAAAAAAABSM/sTnYX5Fc2gQ/s400/b_MG_3177.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142487072208642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This was after my dad mentioned something about Tim's financial responsibility and independence, and hoping it would rub off on me. Tim smirked and whispered something in my ear... like, "wow, I have your dad snowed."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zMpY0AGI/AAAAAAAABQU/OvuuJFiQAMQ/s400/b_PRO9124.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287141517405978722" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zMnzJgXI/AAAAAAAABQM/vSCooRWL4eA/s400/b_PRO9140.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287141516979569010" /&gt;My dad was having issues coordinating the page-turning and the microphone-holding. It was very adorable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0Eubyo3I/AAAAAAAABR8/xY3gCUGbRWQ/s400/b_MG_3185.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142480833323890" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This little munchkin is the adorable daughter, Mila, of our friends Erik and Marie, who got married in Ithaca 5 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OK, let's dance!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0FHDbUKI/AAAAAAAABSE/NpE_ZATEURQ/s400/b_MG_3181.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142487442018466" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0EbRtUXI/AAAAAAAABR0/L7B80eyUC-4/s1600-h/b_MG_3201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0EbRtUXI/AAAAAAAABR0/L7B80eyUC-4/s400/b_MG_3201.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142475690758514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0Dx2TcbI/AAAAAAAABRs/snzmTGrMdBI/s1600-h/b_MG_3209.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0Dx2TcbI/AAAAAAAABRs/snzmTGrMdBI/s400/b_MG_3209.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142464569962930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zL-e_b8I/AAAAAAAABP0/aKFTF9XltVw/s400/b_PRO9587.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287141505889169346" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Bridesmaids in motion!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zyx49m6I/AAAAAAAABRk/j11Nwg_R-u4/s1600-h/b_MG_3231.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zyx49m6I/AAAAAAAABRk/j11Nwg_R-u4/s400/b_MG_3231.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142172523338658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mom had tried to talk me out of the chair dancing because of my illness, and I was pretty convinced... but Tim had other plans. He knew I'd regret it forever if I didn't get lifted on a chair (he's right), and he made all the necessary arrangements.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zyuE6RDI/AAAAAAAABRc/BWtwY_xIVcI/s1600-h/b_MG_3232.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zyuE6RDI/AAAAAAAABRc/BWtwY_xIVcI/s400/b_MG_3232.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142171499709490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Unfortunately, I had decided not to bring our sturdy kitchen chairs because I thought we weren't going to use them... and the only chairs the Fontainebleau had were very light plastic folding chairs. Yikes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We had one planned toast just before dinner after everyone was seated, and the other right before dessert. Groomsman Ken (who essentially introduced us) sang "Sweet Caroline" at the beginning of his toast - a Red Sox reference. Ken and I are Sox fans, and Tim is unfortunately under the spell of the Evil Empire. He can't help it... he was born into it. But I still hate the Yankees.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zyEg5x5I/AAAAAAAABRU/WqEiH4TPZww/s400/b_MG_3292.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142160342828946" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Groomsman Vic gave a short (unplanned) toast that seemed totally cryptic to the crowd...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zx7DigxI/AAAAAAAABRM/W2ufrJUb5Pk/s400/b_MG_3333.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142157803750162" /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zxY7sIjI/AAAAAAAABRE/Fhdm1TtLP6M/s1600-h/b_MG_3335.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zxY7sIjI/AAAAAAAABRE/Fhdm1TtLP6M/s400/b_MG_3335.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287142148644020786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;...but Tim and I were cracking up. I guess the funniest thing about it was its randomness. And I *love* this picture!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zht9VMFI/AAAAAAAABQ8/MTodA7IMVqo/s1600-h/b_MG_3392.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zht9VMFI/AAAAAAAABQ8/MTodA7IMVqo/s400/b_MG_3392.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287141879410143314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My two best friends from high school, Melissa and Chrissy. They are hot ladies (and aren't their dresses awesome???).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zhPwL0jI/AAAAAAAABQ0/EABAKvj8664/s1600-h/b_MG_3408.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zhPwL0jI/AAAAAAAABQ0/EABAKvj8664/s400/b_MG_3408.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287141871301939762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Melissa gave a sweet and extremely funny toast in which she demonstrated to the crowd just how well she knows me... and my shitty driving record. I have to get started thinking about my toast for her April wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zggZV2OI/AAAAAAAABQk/onPQP8U9EYs/s1600-h/b_MG_3438.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zggZV2OI/AAAAAAAABQk/onPQP8U9EYs/s400/b_MG_3438.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287141858589661410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mila and flower girl Ariel got along famously... it was so cute. And they matched! Ariel was a little difficult that day (I'm going to leave it at that, because I love her and I think she was just overexcited), so her having Mila to play with and take care of was fantastic for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zgf5KGmI/AAAAAAAABQc/1NjGEN-7LrQ/s1600-h/b_MG_3439.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zgf5KGmI/AAAAAAAABQc/1NjGEN-7LrQ/s400/b_MG_3439.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287141858454674018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zMvQgRRI/AAAAAAAABQE/5bNf1QoRCnk/s1600-h/b_PRO9244.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zMvQgRRI/AAAAAAAABQE/5bNf1QoRCnk/s400/b_PRO9244.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287141518981743890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Melissa and her older brother Michael (her little bro couldn't escape work).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zMTH2uII/AAAAAAAABP8/OeK8db_B8R4/s1600-h/b_PRO9261.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-zMTH2uII/AAAAAAAABP8/OeK8db_B8R4/s400/b_PRO9261.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287141511429273730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Gratuitous third shot of Mila (with her mom, Marie), wearing my sunglasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My favorite part is next... details!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2720350277715666851-2782006327215826808?l=parentheticalwife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/feeds/2782006327215826808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2720350277715666851&amp;postID=2782006327215826808' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default/2782006327215826808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default/2782006327215826808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/2009/01/less-serious-part.html' title='The less serious part.'/><author><name>(wife.)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07382314733862881357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUu2baTLo2I/AAAAAAAABMc/_uO15g2Vpvc/S220/_MG_2741.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SV-0V6miXQI/AAAAAAAABS0/w30985U9hFE/s72-c/b_MG_3086.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2720350277715666851.post-7514795937913357037</id><published>2008-12-15T19:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T20:46:36.641-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The serious part.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And... the ceremony!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUclC-krT8I/AAAAAAAABK8/t_m0ZS99SlE/s400/b_PRO9501.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280229821201993666" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know what point this photo is from, but I think those groomsmen have pretty awesome hair. (Not pictured: Vic, whose head is lacking in hair but is very nicely shaped.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUchjLsCmTI/AAAAAAAABKc/97HieoVae9Y/s400/b_PRO9450.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280225976431843634" /&gt;Three phenomenal members of the phenomenal &lt;a href="http://www.jupiterquartet.com/"&gt;Jupiter Quartet&lt;/a&gt;: Meg, Dan, and Liz (l-r). Meg and Dan are married; Meg and Liz are sisters. They are all badasses.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUcd0_OrkiI/AAAAAAAABI8/oxARvr4fAts/s400/b_MG_2973.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280221884278608418" /&gt;Me with my parents. When I heard my friends start playing the Aria from Bach's Goldberg Variations (what I had picked for my music, even though I played the very same string trio arrangement this summer and wanted to kill myself because it was so hard... some friend I am), I couldn't stop smiling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUcd072Em5I/AAAAAAAABI0/kxOzmXIKJT4/s400/b_MG_2959.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280221883370085266" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Tim: happy........ and perhaps a wee bit nervous?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUckxKYF2VI/AAAAAAAABKs/SO5PCDk0ofk/s400/b_MG_2976.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280229515132787026" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I like this picture!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUclGxZVbLI/AAAAAAAABLE/jQb9hfc2C34/s400/b_PRO9485.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280229886384237746" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Our dear friend Ben read a beautiful &lt;a href="http://www.brtom.org/wb/berry.html"&gt;Wendell Berry&lt;/a&gt; poem entitled "To Tanya" - Berry's wife's name is Tanya, as is Ben's. It's an anniversary and not a wedding poem, but it is so beautiful. Also, Berry's nonfiction writing has always deeply resonated with me - so I was excited that I fell in love with a poem of his. I've put it at the end of this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUchjEyEr4I/AAAAAAAABKU/w4481Pgp1RI/s400/b_PRO9503.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280225974578098050" /&gt;Since I had picked very traditional prelude, processional, and recessional music (I don't think Goldberg Variations specifically is used a lot, but Bach is a pretty popular choice for weddings, and we usually have very nontraditional taste), I surprised Tim with Gabby's and my selection of what she played. (Gabby is one of my closest friends and was a bridesmaid.) He knew she was playing and saw &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kurtag"&gt;Gyorgy Kurtag&lt;/a&gt;'s name on the program, but I think he didn't know that the music would be right up his alley: several "miniatures" from a piece called "Signs, Games and Messages." The last one is extremely quiet (Tim loves very, very quiet sounds/music) and translates to "autumn fairy;" while Gabby played it, the wind outside was making the sides of the tent move gently--but not too much to compete with the super-quiet music. It was pretty amazing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUchjeq6sQI/AAAAAAAABKk/-ioYipPvZ2E/s400/b_PRO9513.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280225981527404802" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;watching Gabby play&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUclLf-wmiI/AAAAAAAABLM/G_2EJ0RY8uQ/s400/b_PRO9530.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280229967608715810" /&gt;We chose to read our ketubah text out loud (alternating paragraphs) rather than have the rabbi read it. Tim got really choked up, so I had to [gently] grab it away from him and finish it. Again, pretty amazing moment. The choked up part, not the grabbing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUceCnDvXEI/AAAAAAAABJE/pNIh3e5qR-c/s400/b_MG_3042.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280222118308437058" /&gt;We also each broke a glass (in the Jewish tradition, only the groom does it). Er, rather, we tried to. We used light bulbs, which is pretty common, and they were wrapped in cloth napkins. Unfortunately, my shoe had no traction, so my shoe slipped and I didn't break the bulb. Rather than gracefully step aside or try again, I elected to say loudly, "oh, SHIT," only to realize the rabbi was right behind me. Oops. I then took the napkin again and gave the whole package a wussy step, weakly breaking it. But it was already too late. Damn!! Tim is definitely not letting me forget that HE broke the glass and is thus IN CHARGE. ;-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUck01b5O8I/AAAAAAAABK0/W5vFk1sEQ7Y/s400/b_MG_3044.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280229578231069634" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;smooch. (why is Nathan laughing?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUclRHyRzdI/AAAAAAAABLU/F3TJwG8-keU/s400/b_PRO9542.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280230064193129938" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;later, peeps....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUceC8EaY2I/AAAAAAAABJM/tChp7qaLuZ8/s400/b_MG_3061.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280222123948401506" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;...we're gonna go &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yichud"&gt;drink some hot cider&lt;/a&gt;* in our chamber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUcdlGtms7I/AAAAAAAABIE/jDeDGshTi0E/s400/b_MG_3086.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280221611409454002" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Y'all get to dancing!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;*No, really. That's what we did. That is, after I tripped going up the 3 steps during the recessional.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;All photos by &lt;a href="http://www.laurakozlowski.com/"&gt;Laura B. Kozlowski&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;--------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To Tanya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;Wendell Berry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Our household for the time made right,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;All right around us on the hill&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;For time and for this time, tonight,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Two kernels folded in one shell,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We're joined in sleep beyond desire&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;To one another and to time,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Whatever time will take or spare,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Forest, field, house, and hollow room,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;All joined to us, to darkness joined,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;All barriers down, and we are borne&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Darkly, by thoroughfares unsigned&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Toward light we come in time to learn,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;In faith no better sighted yet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Than when we plighted first by hope,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;By vows more solemn than we thought,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Ourselves to this combining sleep&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;A quarter century ago,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Lives given to each other and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;To time, to lives we did not know&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Already given, heart and hand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Would I come to time this way&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Again, now that I know, confess&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So much, knowing I cannot say&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;More now than then what will be? Yes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;May 29, 1957&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;May 29, 1982&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2720350277715666851-7514795937913357037?l=parentheticalwife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/feeds/7514795937913357037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2720350277715666851&amp;postID=7514795937913357037' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default/7514795937913357037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default/7514795937913357037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/2008/12/serious-part.html' title='The serious part.'/><author><name>(wife.)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07382314733862881357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUu2baTLo2I/AAAAAAAABMc/_uO15g2Vpvc/S220/_MG_2741.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUclC-krT8I/AAAAAAAABK8/t_m0ZS99SlE/s72-c/b_PRO9501.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2720350277715666851.post-3072453310678971449</id><published>2008-09-25T23:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T14:26:11.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soon...</title><content type='html'>Sometime after October 26th, 2008, when the recaps are done, I'll be (wife.) instead of (bride.)! Just thought I'd get a head start and register it. :-)  See you soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2720350277715666851-3072453310678971449?l=parentheticalwife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/feeds/3072453310678971449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2720350277715666851&amp;postID=3072453310678971449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default/3072453310678971449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2720350277715666851/posts/default/3072453310678971449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parentheticalwife.blogspot.com/2008/09/soon.html' title='Soon...'/><author><name>(wife.)</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07382314733862881357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_drCrax-D8vg/SUu2baTLo2I/AAAAAAAABMc/_uO15g2Vpvc/S220/_MG_2741.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
