tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58129950599676994272024-02-19T09:47:00.353-05:00A LIFE WORTH LIVINGWhitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-16472631084306574512011-07-29T13:36:00.001-04:002011-08-12T12:21:09.833-04:00HIV 101Let’s all take a journey back to 8th grade….everyone’s favorite class --<br />
<a href="http://sambates.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/sex_ed1.jpg"><img alt="" class="alignright size-full wp-image-86" height="350px" src="http://sambates.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/sex_ed1.jpg?w=350&h=350" title="sex_ed" width="350px" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
A whole hour where they stuff pubescent boys and girls <span style="font-size: large;"><em>raging</em></span> with hormones they don’t even know how to pronounce, let alone control, into one room. An hour to share all sorts of <strong>terrifying</strong> stories and pictures of <span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: large;">sores</span>, <span style="font-size: large;">rashes</span>, <span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">diseases</span></span>, and <span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">dying</span> people</span>, all in an effort to educate kids….and to strike enough <span style="font-size: large;">fear</span> in their hearts that they will choose to abstain from any dangerous or premature sexual activity. <br />
<br />
Now, fast forward 10 years. Imagine you are a single Mormon girl (in <strong><span style="font-size: large;">every</span></strong> sense of the word) and have just been told you tested positive for HIV. I know 10 years is a long time, but I don’t think the average American needs a refresher on how one contracts HIV...but I included them anyway:<br />
<br />
<strong>1)</strong> Sharing needles <em>(<span style="font-size: large;">yeah right!</span> I have to hold back tears every time I get a shot)</em><br />
<strong>2)</strong> Blood transfusions <em>(blood and needles! <span style="font-size: large;"><strong>No.</strong> <strong>Way</strong></span>.)</em><br />
<strong>3)</strong> From mother to child <em>(not that I know of – <span style="font-size: large;">mom?)</span></em><br />
<strong>4)</strong><em> S</em>exual activity <em>(yeah, that is a definite <span style="font-size: x-large;">NO</span>). </em><br />
<br />
In that <span style="font-size: x-large;">NONE</span> of the causes listed above apply to me there is no other explanation…<br />
<br />
it must be a <span style="font-size: large;">curse from God</span>…right? <br />
<br />
This is my trial. Mary had the Son of God out of wedlock...and I...I get HIV.<br />
<br />
A few months ago I was feeling particularly Christ like and told the Lord that I would be willing to die if I could do more for my family on the other side, help them to be stronger and make it to the Celestial Kingdom together. Maybe in hindsight I should have been a <span style="font-size: large;">little more specific</span> on my preferred demise...but I guess I never imagined ...<span style="font-size: large;">HIV</span>….<span style="font-size: x-large;">really?! </span><br />
<br />
I have to be honest, I cried like a baby. In fact, I cried like I have never cried before after I delivered the terrifying news to my mother. (How do you even begin that conversation? <em>“Mom….uhhhh…..I swear….I didn’t do anything….but…”</em> ) Yeah, it was awful. Needless to say, my mother was on a plane and by my side in less than 24 hours. <br />
<br />
Two days later the infectious disease specialist notified me that I had been grossly misdiagnosed, and <strong>DO NOT...</strong>I repeat....<span style="font-size: x-large;">DO NOT</span> have HIV!<br />
<br />
I am actually considering writing a book... "<strong><em>Living with HIV</em></strong> - <em>The worst two days of my life</em>".<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">SO</span>... if any of you are in serious need of a good wake-up call….feel like your spirituality is lacking...need to reevaluate your life...I have just the Dr. for you!<br />
<br />
<div align="center"></div>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-53980337360442690952011-07-29T09:45:00.002-04:002011-07-29T09:48:04.629-04:00When it rains....it POURS<strong>SUNDAY:</strong><br />
“Whitney, this is Dr. B------ I am calling to let you know that you have <span style="font-size: large;">Strep throat</span> and a severe case of <span style="font-size: large;">Mononucleosis.</span> You should be feeling better in 8-15 weeks.”<br />
<br />
<strong>TUESDAY:</strong><br />
“Whitney, this is Dr. B------, your other test results came back. It looks like your liver enzymes are elevated which could be the mono, or it could be <span style="font-size: large;">auto immune liver disease</span>. You also tested positive for <span style="font-size: large;">Lyme disease</span>, and your <span style="font-size: large;">ANA </span>test (tests for rheumatologic diseases like lupus) came back positive. You need to see a rheumatologist.”<br />
<br />
<strong>WEDNESDAY:</strong><br />
“Whitney, this is Dr. <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>‘He-who-shall-not-be-named’</em></span>.” <br />
<br />
<em>Seriously??? Haven’t you done enough! </em><br />
<br />
“Normally I wouldn’t give this kind of news over the phone, but I am leaving town tomorrow for a week, and this couldn’t wait……”<br />
<br />
<em>Words you NEVER want to hear...from ANYONE... <span style="font-size: x-small;">(unless, of course, it was Michael Buble calling to let you know that he did feel the connection at the concert last March and he knows you are meant to be together)</span></em><br />
<br />
<em>Wait a minute…the only other test he ran was…</em><br />
<br />
“Your <span style="font-size: large;">HIV</span> test came back….it was positive. Here is the name of an infectious disease specialist. I am so sorry.”<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">And people wonder why I don’t answer the phone.</span>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-14737119036824562762011-03-12T13:30:00.003-05:002011-03-12T13:33:40.158-05:00Eve & Oak<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">A little while ago I took care of my cousin's two adorable children while she and her husband took a much needed vacation to <b><span style="font-size: large;">NYC</span></b>. I was excited, and happy to help, but I have to be honest....I was a bit nervous. My babysitting days seems like <i><span style="font-size: large;">eons</span></i> ago and although I have spent a good amount of time with Eve and Oak this was Becky and Scott's first time away and it was really important that the weekend go well.</span> <br />
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</span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">Here are a few of the highlights:</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">-Homemade play dough! </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFB6ZnX152Pq77LCICsf2KAWbNaJPxAgaTQapl7nIYRQP12y6zwM2dyhj4n3Aorz5NrXuuttuU8DDHM_8sV_7YTJHTVX2hdgaQNxRLFCfV9hMqnO5glw-vVtzkHMeSMU8RipONhfpPwfgx/s1600/DSC_0192.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFB6ZnX152Pq77LCICsf2KAWbNaJPxAgaTQapl7nIYRQP12y6zwM2dyhj4n3Aorz5NrXuuttuU8DDHM_8sV_7YTJHTVX2hdgaQNxRLFCfV9hMqnO5glw-vVtzkHMeSMU8RipONhfpPwfgx/s400/DSC_0192.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_dUMb0oS9nEHQzJ7bmEuEjkjggGjqm38gTIUF8Yy31pzmjNhMpBmSdYM0qiMWWrZzwMgahx__E2xnjR-eQTBHVMq8OAt_KJUcaDiiVxjsm_nF7ZHD5Q_OuIjiUWDVQy6whxmMUhbX_df/s1600/DSC_0196_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_dUMb0oS9nEHQzJ7bmEuEjkjggGjqm38gTIUF8Yy31pzmjNhMpBmSdYM0qiMWWrZzwMgahx__E2xnjR-eQTBHVMq8OAt_KJUcaDiiVxjsm_nF7ZHD5Q_OuIjiUWDVQy6whxmMUhbX_df/s400/DSC_0196_edited-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">-Snuggling. <b>ALWAYS</b> a favorite.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">-Oak calling me mom....more like "<i>Ma</i>" all weekend. It was great! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">-Eve pretending to eat Oak. <i>"Oh no!"</i> I cried, grabbing her stomach <i>"Give him back!"</i> She would then spit him back out and before I was done cheering she would gobble him up again saying, <i>"I ate Oak! Now he is turning into <span style="font-size: large;">poop</span>!"</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">-Eve helping me drive. Don't panic....she was in her car seat the WHOLE time. She has learned that the yellow signs on the road mean to be careful or watch out. Each time we would pass one I would hear, <i>"Whitney, watch out for walking people, Ok".....</i>or<i> "Whitney watch out for cars, ok"....</i>or<i> "Whitney watch out for the turn". </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">-Notes from Eve. That's right....she is not even 4 yet and she is <span style="font-size: large;">writing</span>. She spells phonetically so she will write down the letters as she sounds out the word. For example: <i>"Whitney.....W.....I.....T.....E.....Whitney!"</i> As you can see sometimes letters are left out. The worst was when she would hand the note to me and watch me read it then ask, <i>"What does it say?"</i> "<i>Uhhh....."</i> frantically trying to decipher her writing<i>...."I don't know Eve." "<b>YES</b> you do! You <span style="font-size: large;">know</span> these letters!" </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">-Eve was Daniel for most of the weekend. She would walk around talking as if she was in the lions den and every time I would call for her, <i>"Hey Eve"</i> she would correct me, <i>"I'm Daniel"</i>....or <i>"Eve, do you want to go home and play with the play dough like we did yesterday?"</i> she would respond, <i>"I don't know....you will have to ask Eve when she comes back."</i> The amazing thing is that she stayed in character (except for a few minutes here or there) for<span style="font-size: large;"> TWO </span><span style="font-size: small;">days! </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">-One of the times Eve was not Daniel she decided to be another "visitor". <i>"Whitney, look over here and pretend you see someone coming down from the clouds."</i> She straightened up and walked very slowly and deliberately towards me with her hands out....palms up. <i>"<span style="font-size: large;">Oak!</span> I think I see someone coming down out of the sky! Who could it be?"</i> <i>"I'm Jesus"</i> Eve replied in a low soothing voice. <i><span style="font-size: large;">"Jesus??</span> You came to visit Oak and me?" "Yes, the disciples are back fixing the boat".</i> She then continued to ask various questions like, <i>"What is this</i> (referring to the play dough)?"...<i>"Where is Eve"...."What are you doing?"....."Are you so <b><span style="font-size: large;">excited</span></b> to see me?"</i> She then explained that she had to go help the disciples with the boat, but wanted to make sure I let Eve know that Jesus came to visit. A few seconds later Eve, playing herself, ran back into the room <b>bright eyed</b> <i>“Whitney, did anyone come and visit??” </i></span>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-50510459691955616762011-01-18T11:08:00.000-05:002011-01-18T11:08:10.502-05:00Bedtime Stories...So the other night I am lying in bed and my roommate Brea asked me to tell her some stories....this is the conversation that ensued:<br />
<br />
<strong>W</strong>:"Have I told you about the time I was Juliet in my 6th grade play and Romeo stripped the screws from the table that was to be my bed....so in the scene where I drank the potion to make it seem like I was dead I laid on the table only to have it collapse....my skirt flying up....in front of the <span style="font-size: large;">ENTIRE</span> school?"<br />
<br />
<strong>B</strong>:"Yeah....that was a good one"<br />
<br />
<strong>W</strong>:"What about the time the heat lamp over our baby chickens fell and caught our laundry room on fire not only killing the chickens, but nearly destroying the entire west side of our house?"<br />
<br />
<strong>B</strong>:"Didn't your neighbor invite you over for fried chicken that night?"<br />
<br />
<strong>W</strong>:"Yep....classic"<br />
<br />
<strong>W: </strong>"Ok...well one time in China I locked my keys in my apt and it was a holiday weekend...no one was in town that could help us and we were supposed to catch a bus to Guilin the next morning. We lived on the top floor of an apt building so we went up the roof and discussed all possible options (one of which being tying a rope to Melissa and hoisting her over the side and through a window). Well Kelsi realized that her bathroom window and mine was only about a foot and a half apart so....on of us could climb out her bathroom window and into mine."<br />
<br />
<strong>B: </strong>"This is a high rise apt. building?"<br />
<br />
<strong>W: </strong>"Yep....<em>sniff.....</em>I was going to do it, but I was wearing a skirt and we were concerned that it would not allow me to "<span style="font-size: large;">maneuver</span>" myself safely....so Kelsi bravely volunteered. Melissa and I <span style="font-size: large;">wrapped</span> ourselves around her leg and torso (anchoring her) as she climbed out the window and swung her leg across to my bathroom. Then Melissa held my legs as I stuck most of my body outside the window to help secure/push Kelsi into my bathroom. By the time she made it we realized that a <strong>crowd</strong> of people had congregated below...watching the "<span style="font-size: large;">crazy</span>" <span style="background-color: white;">Americans! " </span><br />
<br />
<strong>B:</strong> "What were you thinking?"<br />
<br />
<strong>W: </strong>"Yeah....that was pretty stupid now that I think about it"<br />
<br />
<strong>B: </strong>"One more"<br />
<br />
<strong>W: </strong>"Ok....I will tell you something that I have only told <span style="font-size: x-large;">ONE</span> other person.....<br />
<br />
<strong>B:</strong> ...........??<br />
<br />
<strong>W: </strong>"............uhhhh..............I went to space camp............."<br />
<br />
<strong>B: </strong>"Like the NASA one?"<br />
<br />
<strong>W: </strong>"nope....like Star Trek space camp"<br />
<br />
<strong>B: </strong><em>Brea laughing her guts out</em><br />
<br />
<strong>W:</strong> "Yeah.....yeah....laugh it up! I know....."<br />
<br />
<strong>B:</strong> "What did you do?"<br />
<br />
<strong>W: </strong>"Well we were divided up into teams/ships and we were put in rooms or simulators and had to work together to save the galaxy from evil <span style="font-size: large;"><strong>aliens</strong></span>"<br />
<br />
<strong>B: </strong><em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">.....laughing even</span> harder </span><span style="font-size: small;">now......</span></em><br />
<br />
<strong>W: "</strong>One time I got to be captain and give all the orders....yeah....."<br />
<br />
<strong>B: </strong>"And?"<br />
<br />
<strong>W:</strong> "Our ship was taken over by aliens and we all died"Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-84700700608462972102011-01-10T21:10:00.001-05:002011-01-10T21:20:01.659-05:00Monday, Monday....6:10 a.m. <span style="font-size: large;"><i>crawling </i></span>around on the floor....<b>disoriented</b>....trying to find where I hid my phone the night before<br />
6:25 a.m. wake up a <b>second </b>time to my alarm.....get on my knees <br />
6:35 a.m. <b>still </b>on my knees.....I like to think that I can pray in my sleep<br />
6:40 a.m. eat breakfast while standing in my closet trying to figure out what to wear<br />
6:50 a.m. <b>Still </b>standing in my closet....no idea what to wear<br />
7:10 a.m. <span style="font-size: large;">running </span>out the door forgetting my scarf and gloves grabbing the <u>thinnest </u>coat I own<br />
7:12 a.m. <span style="font-size: x-large;">FREEZING </span>at the bus stop...... <br />
7:15 a.m. Realized that I forgot to brush my teeth<br />
7:16 a.m. a friend from the ward sits down by me on the bus....spent the whole 15 min bus ride talking out the side of my mouth<br />
8:00 a.m. get to work and realize that I forgot my security badge....<i>whoops </i><br />
8:30 a.m.Call my insurance company only to find out that <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">even though I am paying for services</span> I</span> <span style="font-size: large;">do not exist </span>in their system.....now is REALLY not the time to get shot!<i></i><br />
9:30 a.m. Still on the phone trying to figure out my insurance "situation" when I hear a <span style="font-size: large;"><i>BANG BANG BANG </i></span>Then my boss yells "<i>What are you doing??</i>" <span style="font-size: large;"><i>BANG BANG BANG </i></span>another yell <i>"Go around!' "What are you doing!?"</i> <br />
9:35 a.m. Get off the phone to see almost everyone else in the office crowded in my boss's office.<br />
9:35 a.m. Sit in my boss's office watching a <b>disoriented </b>man (wearing a dirty sweatshirt, REALLY baggy pants ...backwards....that actually spent most of the time around his ankles, and one shoe) standing in the bushes outside the window trying to open a door he <span style="font-size: large;">thought </span>existed in the brick wall next to the window. <br />
9:40 a.m. Security shows up to <span style="font-size: large;">handle </span>the situation<br />
9:40-10 a.m. watch the man walk around and try to get in other cars when the police officer went to get him some water....then fall over and roll around on the ground.....crawl on his hands and knees down the road.....<br />
10 a.m. It was <b>unanimously </b>decided that the man had escaped from the psych ward....<span style="font-size: large;">upstairs</span><br />
12 p.m. Eat lunch while discuss all the shootings/stabbings/muggings that have happened in the last week....sadly it was all news to me. <br />
3 p.m. a girl (Kellie) I work with runs out of the office exclaiming that she burnt a bag of popcorn<br />
3:02 p.m. office smells <b>AWFUL </b>and I start teasing Kellie that she is going to set the fire alarm off <br />
3:05 p.m. smoke is <span style="font-size: large;">billowing </span>out of the break room<br />
3:10 p.m. fire alarm goes off and the <span style="font-size: large;">entire </span>building is <span style="font-size: large;">evacuated</span> <br />
3:30 p.m. standing outside with <b>everyone </b>glaring at us because the truth had gotten around and they realized this was all because of <span style="font-size: large;">burnt popcorn</span><br />
4:00 p.m. security and environmental services are still in the office....asking questions and <span style="font-size: large;">drilling</span> Kellie on smart microwave use - Security officer : "Haven't you been told that when you are using the microwave you don't walk away from it?" Kellie: "I was always told that microwaves cause cancer....so I always walk away!" and so on......<br />
4:30 p.m. I sit in my desk as I watch Kenny.(the guy in charge) wheel our microwave out of the office on his cart. He said it was <span style="font-size: large;">punishment </span>and exclaimed, "You know you ain't <b>never </b>gonna get this back." I sat there feeling like a scolded child.....meanwhile....Kellie is hiding out in her office with the door closed....can't really blame her<br />
4:30 - 5:00 p.m. sit at the front desk as person after person walk by on their way home making comments or shooting evil looks......<br />
5:10 p.m.Heave a sigh of relief as I lock up for the night and get to leave the office and all its craziness behind<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">UNTIL TOMORROW</span> that is......Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-74973091621796422892010-10-20T15:31:00.001-04:002010-10-20T15:31:46.327-04:00Commando????So I was on my way to meet my roommate for lunch last week and a woman, not a few steps away from me, suddenly tripped only to find herself <span style="font-size: large;">sprawled</span> across the pavement of the busy sidewalk at Dupont Circle. Not only did the events that led to her <span style="font-size: large;">dramatic</span> spill draw much attention, to make matters worse....her slinky above-the-knee length dress bounced up and settled on her back revealing what <span style="font-size: large;">should</span> have been her posterior covered with some sort of "frilly unmentionables". <br />
<br />
Now I can totally sympathize with this situation...having recently exposed my own frilly unmentionables for all to see while standing over a city vent on a busy street....she took it to a whole new level. After her body came to a <strong>skidding</strong> halt I suddenly realized that she had the behind alright....without any semblance of frilly anythings....I was so surprised in fact that....I have to admit...I <span style="font-size: large;">jerked</span> around....eyes the size of <span style="font-size: x-large;">saucers</span>...to make sure I wasn't imagining things.... <br />
<br />
Sure enough....there she was laying on the sidewalk <span style="font-size: x-large;">bare bum</span> for all to see. What made it worse was that the shock and scrapes that accompanied the fall consumed her attention for the first few minutes...making her in no hurry to get up...let alone realize how exposed the was and pull her skirt down. <br />
<br />
Let this be a lesson to all you commando-going lovers out there...yes... you may think it your personal right...as much as I cannot relate to, and happen to think it unsanitary and just plain gross...Please....please....<span style="font-size: large;">PLEASE</span> make it so that <span style="font-size: x-large;">WHATEVER</span> happens....it <strong>STAYS</strong> personal! Don't punish me for you life choices!!!Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-54963060375657274102010-10-20T15:00:00.001-04:002010-10-20T15:02:25.225-04:00"Where have all the YOUNG men gone.....LONG time passing..."Not a huge fan of this dated tune, but....one has to admit it asks some very <span style="font-size: large;">hard</span> questions....<br />
questions that have been flooding my mind since my arrival to what I thought would be the <span style="font-size: x-large;">"Mecca"</span> for attractive, single, successful young LDS men...a proverbial "field...white, all <span style="font-size: large;">ready</span> to harvest...."<br />
<br />
Oh...I have definitely found those white fields...a little <span style="font-size: large;"><strong>too</strong></span> white....<br />
<br />
The man (40s) who hands me my newspaper every day as I exit the metro....he looks me up and down and won't give me the newspaper until he has time to give me a compliment about how beautiful I look....nice...but weird.<br />
<br />
The man (50s) at Au bon Pain (cafe) on the corner...where I <span style="font-size: large;">USED</span> to get an occasional bagel or cup of fruit in the morning. I think it took him several minutes to count my change in between the winks and pick up lines he was <span style="font-size: large;">slathering</span> on me......so much for breakfast.....<br />
<br />
Or there is the guy at work who is about my dad's age....which no offense poppa...but....having a man your age hit on me just plain <span style="font-size: x-large;">FREAKS</span> me out! The fact that he is married makes it even worse....<span style="font-size: large;">woof!</span><br />
<br />
Or the squirly, white, nerdy man (30s) who actually <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">smooched</span> his lips at me as he was exiting the metro....I think my jaw dropped....<br />
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The crowning jewel in my list of the unwanted admirers....was the CHICK...yes....<span style="font-size: large;">GIRL</span>... at Cosi (my lunch spot) who came on to me as she was ringing me up! I was so flustered...trying to get away as quickly as I could that I literally dropped everything I was carrying....lunch and all....on the floor! <br />
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This brings me back to where I started...with the age-old...poignant question....<br />
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"WHERE have all the <strong><span style="font-size: large;">YOUNG</span></strong> <strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">men</span></strong> gone? LONG time passing...."Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-59841423212529333652010-10-20T12:29:00.000-04:002010-10-20T12:29:45.325-04:00I blame Jane Austen....<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Sometimes I am amazed at how I survive on my own...in a big city....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">My commute each day consists of a bus ride to the Pentagon where I catch the metro into downtown. It has been a fairly easy process and has quickly become a routine... so much so that I don't have to think about it anymore....or so I thought.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">A few weeks ago I am waiting for the bus home from the Pentagon...and am <span style="font-size: large;">engrossed <span style="font-size: small;">in</span> </span><span style="font-size: small;">Jane Austen</span> (can you blame me?) and I see the green ART bus pull up and looked up to see that it was <strong><span style="font-size: large;">#87</span></strong> which is my bus. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I did not recognize the bus driver....and I know all the bus drivers for my route..<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>RED FLAG #1</strong>:</span> ..but did I question....NO....he must be new right? So I show him my apt ID (I get free rides through my apt complex)....and he gives me this really confused look...<strong><span style="font-size: large;">RED FLAG #2</span></strong>....but neither of us say anything...of course...and he just waves me on. A minute or two before the bus pulls away I notice the bus driver talking to a few people outside and I think that I recognize a few as people who usually ride my bus...<strong><span style="font-size: large;">RED FLAG #3</span> .</strong>..hmmmm...that's weird...back to Jane Austen.....Captain Wentworth....yummm</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">when....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I look up and notice that instead of continuing into town....the bus is getting on the freeway..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>RED FLAG #4</strong>.......</span><em><strong>aka the "Past the point of NO return" flag.... or the "you're so dumb...how many red flags do you need!" flag....</strong></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">...it is then that I <span style="font-size: large;">finally</span> pull myself from the pages of <em>"Persuasion"</em> and the dreadful truth sets in.... I am on the <span style="font-size: large;"><strong>wrong</strong></span> bus...the <strong>87 Xpress</strong>....and I have absolutely <strong><span style="font-size: large;">NO</span></strong> clue where I am going to end up! I try to stay calm as we zoom past my apartment complex on the 395 toward Richmond. After five minutes or so we get off the freeway and I am frozen...trying to look <em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">calm and collected</span></em> on the outside...while <strong><span style="font-size: large;">panicking</span></strong> and <strong><span style="font-size: large;">cursing</span></strong> Jane Austen in my head. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>What do I do? Stay on for the whole route until it goes back to the pentagon? That would take hours! What if I get off and catch the 87Xpress that is going in the opposite direction back to the pentagon?</em> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I am going through different scenarios in my head when I realize that the further I go, the more lost and disoriented I will become....if I am going to act....I need to act <span style="font-size: large;">now</span>! Before I knew it....I find myself jumping off at the next stop. As the bus pulls away...I am left speechless as I take in my surroundings. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">There I am in a <span style="font-size: large;">run-down</span> graffiti covered part of town...the apts and buildings have <span style="font-size: large;">bars</span> on the windows...and I quickly realize that not only am I the <strong>only woman in sight</strong>....but the <strong>only white person</strong> as well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am going to die!!!!!!</span> and all because of Jane Austen!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I cross the street to wait for the next bus which according to the schedule wasn't due for another 20 minutes. <span style="font-size: x-large;">A lot</span> can happen in 20 minutes....I mean....let's be honest....<span style="font-size: large;">I watch CSI</span>...<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">20 minutes could be the difference between</span> <span style="font-size: x-large;">life</span> and <span style="font-size: x-large;">death</span>....</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">So...what do I do? I start walking. I walk back the way the bus came....figuring if anything, I will be walking along the bus route and can get on when it comes but won't have to wait at a stop like a sitting duck. I remember mom telling me that if I am walking alone to <span style="font-size: large;">"walk with a purpose"</span> and to not look like easy prey....I had to remind myself that she used the word "<span style="font-size: large;">walk</span>" and not "<span style="font-size: large;">run</span>" as I passed bar after bar...with groups of sloshed men gathered outside and rundown warehouses. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I don't think I have ever "<strong>walked</strong>" so fast or with so much "<strong>purpose</strong>" in my life...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Almost an hour later...I found this path that led under the freeway and back into a nearby neighborhood and eventually.... I <span style="font-size: large;">made it home</span> in <strong>one</strong> piece. I walked in...happier than ever to be home! I sat down, tried to calm my "poor nerves" and mend my ragged confidence....and <span style="font-size: x-large;">put my Jane Austen aside</span> as punishment for all the misheif she had caused....</span>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-53182030333834268752010-08-26T10:53:00.002-04:002010-08-26T10:55:49.620-04:00Reality my friends....is NEVER this pretty?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8HfqPNBlEYWRP4hMn033Dt-X0rIA3sGT5XSFggm-FGu1DLdZ-vg_rJVZEjuf0QJYYtemfs1SErbNhbSYKCDyKzRdLMUJEMreB4dsHpSl6XeVQKSZVOazgK0Xr8SBV4e0IUi0Ff-FBYTY/s1600/marilyn-monroe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8HfqPNBlEYWRP4hMn033Dt-X0rIA3sGT5XSFggm-FGu1DLdZ-vg_rJVZEjuf0QJYYtemfs1SErbNhbSYKCDyKzRdLMUJEMreB4dsHpSl6XeVQKSZVOazgK0Xr8SBV4e0IUi0Ff-FBYTY/s320/marilyn-monroe.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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One of the more famous shots...she makes it look so fun...with this coy look as if to say "whoops...I can't believe this happened...". At least she still looks beautiful and sexy...let me tell you how this really happens...in reality...<br />
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You are walking down a crowded, D.C. street on a muggy Saturday. Just finished some shopping so your hands are full. You look around...taking in all the sights and sounds...you glance in at the restaurant you are passing filled with customers all escaping the heat for an afternoon snack...when all of a sudden....<em><span style="font-size: x-large;">WHOOOOOSH</span></em>...suddenly an enormous gust of air rushes up from a vent that you didn't know you were walking on and instead of people...and the restaurant...<span style="font-size: large;">all</span> you see is the hem of your skirt.<br />
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You try not panic and make more of a scene...even though the thought of your <span style="font-size: large;">frilly unmentionables</span> on display for <strong><span style="font-size: large;">all</span></strong> to see consumes your thoughts. You speed up and try to make it past the vent only to find that the vent goes on for half a block! You try to push your skirt down...sadly it won't stay down because of the constant whips of air escaping the vents below...let alone the fact that your hands are full from the days activities. <span style="font-size: large;">Finally</span> you get your senses together and realize that if you merely take one step to the left you will no longer be standing over the vent. You try to go on walking as normal...fight the urge to put your head down and escape the scene of your embarrassing <span style="font-size: large;">display</span>...maybe even chuckle a bit to act like it was no big deal... you have to hold on to the shreds of dignity you have left.<br />
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Now this experience...<em>purely fictional</em>...taught me a few valuable lessons:<br />
<ol><li>When walking down a street in D.C. PAY ATTENTION...you never know what exciting situations may confront you!</li>
<li>Put weights in the hem of your skirts...</li>
<li>Wear very large sunglasses so people can't actually see your face and be able to identify you later as the flasher...</li>
<li>Last but not least...even though my good friend Marilyn could pull it off...she had a crew setting things up to make everything perfect...REALITY...where there are no crews preparing us for such situations is UGLY...you can even ask those poor people in the restaurant.</li>
</ol>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-26429532137242308662010-08-24T16:26:00.002-04:002010-08-24T16:33:59.417-04:00Alright everyone...stay calm...now's not the time to lose our heads!!!!So I am sitting in the the office the other week and receive the following e-mail:<br />
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<em>Building Security has advised that the <strong>police</strong> have <strong>secured</strong> our building so that you <strong>cannot exit</strong> the building. We do not know the nature of the <strong>situation</strong> and will provide more information when we receive it. They will give us word if we need to take any other action.</em><br />
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uhh....words like "<span style="font-size: large;">police</span>" and followed by "<span style="font-size: large;">secured</span>" or "<span style="font-size: large;">situation</span>" <u>never</u> bring warm fuzzies...in fact those are the types of things you only want to hear on t.v....again....the first thing I think of is...<em><span style="font-size: large;">there's a shooter on the loose!</span></em> (don't know what it is with me and my fear of being shot....) I never heard anything again for the rest of the afternoon....<br />
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I found out the next day it was a <strong>bomb</strong> threat....no biggyWhitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-42394872649801785812010-08-04T11:54:00.001-04:002010-08-04T12:03:22.814-04:00Human Trafficking...it's a dirty business<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">D.C. comes ALIVE after five o'clock! It is no wonder...the work day has come to an end and people <span style="font-size: large;">emerge</span> from their cold sterile cubicles into the streets, eager to leave the office behind and enjoy a night of freedom and leisure. But, before one can embark on such a night...one has to <span style="font-size: large;">bravely</span> go where <strong>WAY</strong> too many have gone before...underneath the city's streets through <em>dirty</em> tunnels and passages...and <span style="font-size: large;">cram</span> onto germ-infested trains..stuffed with hundreds of other humans all desperate to get out of dodge!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://gothamist.com/attachments/jen/2008_05_subcrowd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="422" src="http://gothamist.com/attachments/jen/2008_05_subcrowd.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Thousands of people pour into each station completely filling the platforms and every available space. There are no lines...no sense of order. People slowly squish closer and closer as the trains arrive trying to maneuver themselves in such a way guaranteeing they are the <span style="font-size: large;">FIRST</span> to get on. I can't help but chuckle as I see grown men and woman running full boar (bodies, bags, briefcases, flying everywhere) trying to make it on the train...( <span style="font-size: large;"><em>"Hurry!!!! It's the last train out of Nam!!!!"</em></span>) only to then have the doors shut right before they make it<span style="font-size: large;"><em>..."NO"</em></span> they yell...hand out dramatically...watching their train pull away. And they are left, dejected, heaving from their physical exertion...for another 2 minutes...until the next train comes.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">As devastating as it is to wait for two more minutes for the next train...it doesn't necessarily get any better once you make it on the train. You are literally swept (it is either that or get trampled) onto the train as if caught in a river's current. And just like a river's current does not ebb or change course when there is an object in its path...neither does the flow of "human debris" pouring onto the metro trains...pushing anyone standing in its path aside. Once the car has been packed so tightly that the doors can barely close, it departs. With every bump, turn, push on the break <span style="font-size: large;">some</span> part of you collides with some part of <span style="font-size: large;">several</span> other people...all the while trying to never make eye contact pretending you don't seem to notice. Sometimes I wonder if there are cameras set up and the drivers make it as bumpy and jerky as possible just to see the awkwardness that ensues. There was one ride in particular that no matter how I situated myself my posterior was <strong><span style="font-size: large;">smashed</span></strong> against the man behind me...I wanted to turn around and say<em><span style="font-size: large;">..."what can I say...it's my best side"...</span></em>but figured drawing <strong>more</strong> attention to the fact that my behind was "<em>all up in his grill</em>" would only make it more awkward.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Some of my favorite metro trips have included some woman preaching to the whole car that she was in hell and God saved her. Let's just say...she had a LOT of passion. Or, the time when, as usual...the train was overcrowded and this elderly Asian woman sitting down was reading her newspaper, and the backpack of the girl standing in front of her kept brushing her newspaper. I watched as she continued to get more and more irritated until she started <span style="font-size: large;">hitting</span> the girl's backpack with her newspaper! I have seen a number of uses for newspapers in my day i.e. wrapping for glass items, paper machete projects, fire starter, bedding for the homeless, spit wads, <em><span style="font-size: large;">heaven forbid</span></em>....reading, and even toilet paper...guess I have one more to add to the list.</div>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-58289263707179209032010-07-22T09:17:00.000-04:002010-07-22T09:17:02.170-04:00Lessons Learned<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #7f6000;">These last few weeks starting my new life in a big city...has taught me a <span style="font-size: large;">LOT</span>... </span></div><ul style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><li><span style="color: #7f6000;">If I had no source of Divine help and my life was left completely up to me...it would be a <b><span style="font-size: large;">MESS</span></b>!!!</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #7f6000;">There is no point in trying to do your hair...because within 5 minutes it has wilted</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #7f6000;">Always take something to read on the metro...it makes you look more intelligent...and gives you something to do</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #7f6000;">Take a seperate pair of comfy shoes to wear to and from work...cuts down on the blisters</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #7f6000;">Don't smile at <b>everyone</b> you see on the street...some men will take it the wrong way...</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #7f6000;">This is not Utah...<span style="font-size: large;">everything</span> is more... colorful: the faces...the language...the styles...</span></li>
</ul><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #7f6000; font-size: large;">One of my favorite lessons:</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #7f6000;">This last week I went through the self-checkout lane at Giant (don't know why...I hate them) and forgot that I requested $20 cash back. Luckily Annette was in the next lane...so while I helped her another man came through my lane and asked me if I had used that lane. Confused...I asnwered, "Yes". </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #7f6000;">He smiled and help up the $20 bill! After thanking him over and over he said, "I just wanted to show you that there are some honest people left in this world."</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #7f6000;">It doesn't matter where you live...what the crime rate is...there are good people everywhere...<span style="font-size: large;">thank heaven for that!</span></span></div>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-51097121093021244912010-07-20T09:22:00.000-04:002010-07-20T09:22:03.560-04:00Now that is what I call Ironic...<div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So....I left my phone on a bench at a bus stop....<span style="font-size: large;"><b>shocker</b></span>... I didn't realize it until several stops later...panicked...got off the bus and ran (skirt, dress shoes, purse...ALL flying and bouncing about) down several blocks of Crystal City back to the bus stop. I arrived back at the bench only to find my phone in the hands of some young <span style="font-size: large;">thug</span>...who honestly looked like a member of a gang...remember those fears I had of getting <span style="font-size: large;">shot</span>...yeah...well...so did I...</div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What was I supposed to do??? You know what they say...."Desperate times..." I stand up straight...square my shoulders, <b><span style="font-size: large;">boldly</span></b> march up to him with the most intimidating look I could muster...hand out..."Can I have my phone?"...trying to keep my voice steady. He looked up at me surprised...then with a disapointed smile handed it over!!! </div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">That is <span style="font-size: large;">RIGHT!</span> <span style="font-size: large;">"Look at me and my <b>BAD</b> SELF!!"</span> </div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Now in my attempt to learn from my past mistakes and prevent future ones (cause I know that it was an act of divine intervention that things turned out the way they did) I am not only scatter brained...but <span style="font-size: large;">PARANOID!</span> I check to make sure I have my phone...keys....or wallet...every 10-15 minutes! I look like a complete idiot as I suddenly stop wherever I am...sidewalk...metro platform...etc...and pat myself down or look through my purse just to make sure I didn't leave/lose anything....because <span style="font-size: large;">let's be honest</span>...I don't have the best track record...</div>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-84042599189898488842010-07-19T14:39:00.000-04:002010-07-19T14:39:51.160-04:00MY POOR NERVES<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have always felt like I have had a pretty good grasp on my life... I am usually organized... have a sharp memory....etc. I remember growing up...watching friends or family who seemed so scattered and spacey, constantly losing this or that...I could NOT understand.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Well...in the last year...<b>I HAVE BECOME THAT PERSON!!!</b> I don't know if it is the stress...or premature senility setting in...but I feel like my attempt to keep that same "grasp" on my life has become a big joke...almost like convincing myself I can still do the splits...embarrassing...and <span style="font-size: large;">VERY</span> painful. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>I am only in my mid twenties for heavens sake! Shouldn't this be the time when I am mentally and physically at the top of my game??? I am too young to be feeling this old! And it will only get worse.....<span style="font-size: x-large;">PANIC!!!!</span></i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Keys...phone...debit card...all <b>VERY</b> important...and for some reason I never seem to have them ALL at the same time. At least one is <span style="font-size: large;">ALWAYS</span> missing...then the minute I find it....I lose one of the other items. Something is seriously wrong...(I blame it on a curse...that means it is out of my control...right???) I went several months unable to find my debit card earlier this year only to find it under one of the couch cushions...and the <b>NEXT</b> day....what happens? My phone went missing...for several weeks....</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Now I find myself....scatter-brained and all...in Washington D.C....anyone else a little nervous???</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So far...nothing disastrous...or at least nothing I couldn't handle.....</div>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-35277383483926723762010-07-17T11:38:00.003-04:002010-07-17T15:25:10.718-04:00Washington D.C. - The Next Chapter<div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <span style="color: black;">It all began </span><b style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">Memorial Day 2010</span></b><span style="color: black;">...as we were frantically stuffing the remaining boxes etc. in every available space left in the car and moving van. Packing finished, it was time for goodbye. I don't know if it was because Aunt KLynn was so emotional and I can't help but cry when other people do, or if the reality of what I was about to do began to set it...</span><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">either way</span><span style="color: black;">...I found myself unable to hold back my sobs as I went down the line and said goodbye to my family.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Although I have lived away from home for five years, this goodbye seemed different...I knew that I wasn't just saying goodbye to my family...but to a wonderful chapter of my life...a chapter that had been filled with trips home for the weekend to help mom with whatever event or project she would be working on (Women's Conf., home make-overs, canning, reunions etc.), family vacations, late night talks with mom and dad, pillow talk and being immature with Melissa, general conference...when all the family and friends come into town, birthdays, most holidays, weddings, and the many family gatherings and activities.</div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Let's be honest here...this is what was <span style="font-size: large;">really</span> going through my head... </div><div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">WAIT</span></b>...why am I moving to the next chapter???? I like <b>this</b> one!!!! <span style="font-size: large;">WHY</span> did I ever say I wanted this??? I am so <b><span style="font-size: large;">STUPID</span></b>!!! I don't even have a job...I will probably end up begging on the street...and if I have to spend that much time on the streets I am definitely going to get <span style="font-size: large;">mugged</span> and <span style="font-size: large;">killed</span>...I don't have a car...so I will get lost on the streets of D.C....probably at night...yep...I am going to get <span style="font-size: large;">shot</span>...<span style="font-size: large;"><b>FOR SURE</b></span>....I have practically <span style="font-size: large;">NO</span> money...so when they mug me they will only get angry and <b>THEN</b> kill me...and I don't have <span style="font-size: large;">ANY</span> friends in D.C....<span style="font-size: large;"><b>NO ONE</b></span> will notice if I am dead...and I will just lie there in the streets...dead and alone...</i></div><div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">I DON'T WANT TO GROW UP!!!!</span> </i></div><div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">WHY</span> am I doing this again??? Is it too late to change my mind???</i></div><div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #444444; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i>...whimper....whipmer....sniff....ahem...pulling myself together</i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Goodbyes having been said...it was time to leave. There we were, three ladies stuffed in the cab of a 14 foot moving van with only two bucket seats...<b><span style="font-size: large;">YES</span></b>...I rode all the way across the country on a broken camping chair...now THAT is what I call a <span style="font-size: large;">ROAD TRIP!!!!</span> It was definatley memorable...from the beautiful mountains (I can say that cause I had <b>PLENTY</b> of time to admire them...due to the fact that the truck could barely go <span style="font-size: large;">20 mph</span> depending on the slope...one particular stretch we couldn't get over 10 mph...semi truckes were literally <span style="font-size: large;">ZOOMING</span> past...) to the beautiful green plains of Nebraska...<b>and</b> Iowa...<b>and</b> Missouri...<b>and</b> Indiana...(sick of the plains yet...me too...). Finally in Ohio the plains turned into beautiful, densely wooded, rolling hills. It only continued to get more and more beautiful the further east we traveled.</div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Finally...after four <span style="font-size: x-large;">LONG</span> days of fast food, endless road kill, swollen feet, hours of staring out the window, gas station bathrooms, a flat trailer tire, and sitting in a broken camp chair...we pulled into Virginia...my beautiful new home. Suddenly the fear of being so far away from my family, the unknown, and getting shot vanished...in its place...a nervous excitement for the future...a future that lay completely in my hands...to make of it what I will...thus beginning a <span style="font-size: x-large;">NEW</span> chapter in the life of one <span style="font-size: large;">Whitney Hunsaker</span>...</div>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812995059967699427.post-58380573466897274992010-07-16T10:45:00.002-04:002010-07-17T15:05:05.106-04:00Jumping on the Bandwagon...<div style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I have wrestled with the idea of starting a blog for quite some time. Will I even have <b><span style="font-size: 130%;">anything</span> </b>worthwhile to write about? <span style="font-size: 180%;">Who</span> would want to read what I have to say anyway? Will it end up with all my new year's resolutions...goals...or to do lists, after two weeks...when all the motivation and novelty is gone... abandoned and pushed aside by all of life's business?</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I loved writing e-mails from China because each one was filled with different...exciting news and stories. There was nothing "every-day" about life in China...and I <span style="font-size: 130%;">LOVED</span> sharing. It became a passion...I began to write down <span style="font-size: 180%;">EVERYTHING</span>...knowing that it was only a matter of time before my days would become faded memories. I have been home from China for two years now and my letters, originally for family and friends, have become one of the greatest treasures in my life. I find myself re-living those days in China...laughing and crying as I read...remembering how amazing those six months were...and how I saw the hand of God in my life EVERY day.</span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">So...although blogging is usually intended for its readers...my attempt at blogging is more for me than anyone else. My hope is that even if no one reads of cares about what I write, like my letters from China, I can look back at each entry...laugh...cry...shake my head...and remember how <span style="font-size: 180%;">amazing</span> my life is even when I am not in another country...but <b><span style="font-size: 130%;">MOST</span></b> importantly...so I can look back and see the hand of the Lord.</span></div>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01312754114966577935noreply@blogger.com0