tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62913416718708322442024-03-12T20:47:43.053-07:00Random Ramblings of a Blonde BrunetteKarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6291341671870832244.post-62385487644386848862014-11-13T13:51:00.001-08:002014-11-13T13:51:57.445-08:00A Life Adventure I Like to Refer to as "A Series of Unfortunate Events" - Part 1<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">With frustrations surmounting, sending me to the brink & at times into the level of crying. I hope just typing this out will help make some of the frustration go away. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">May 2013</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My beautiful, sweet boy was born. He fills our lives daily with joy and laughter. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>I'm not writing much about him at this point because he is not in any way the source of my frustration, yet he is an important part to this story, so, more to come later about Baby Barron.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">August 2013</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With my maternity leave over, I returned to work. Sad to leave my son, but knew he was in <i>excellent</i> hands while I worked my 7-4. I took my regular vacation of one week off the end of the month to celebrate our anniversary with my husband. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>~ a little background before I continue...</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>My father-in-law, a few months prior to my son's birth, was diagnosed with arterial sclerosis of the brain (aka Alzheimer's).</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>...now to continue ~</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We aren't super religious [anymore] but my husband and I grew up in Christian homes and raised under Biblical values, et al. So when my husband walked into the nursery where I was rocking my son, he had just gotten off the phone with his mom. She informed him that she had made a decision to move her and my FIL from Portland to Florence, Oregon and was already making plans to visit Florence to find a home. I don't know the exact words that were exchanged in the phone call, just that she had invited us to move with them; with or without Tim and I, they were moving.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tim has a job that he can do anywhere, so that wasn't a huge factor for our decision, but he especially didn't want to lose his father being physically close since the illness was already causing him to mentally "leave". I loved my job, yet I've always desired to stay home and raise my kid(s). We had mutually agreed a while previous to all of this to "walk away" from our home. We were in negotiations with the bank for our home, yet still occupied it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With best intentions we made our decision to move with my in-laws. We also believe we were honoring God with our decision. Not any one particular scripture verse came to my mind that day, but here are a couple that basically explain my thoughts on it that day in August: 1 Timothy 5:3-4, 8 and Ephesians 6:2-3.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I think it was the weekend before I returned to work from my vacation when we stayed at my in-laws PDX home and watched their dogs while they visited Florence for a home. Tim and his older brother finished numerous projects on the Portland home before it went up for sale. Being where the home was located it didn't take more than 24 hours after it was listed when an offer was made and accepted by my MIL. Also, my MIL found a home for both families to live in, which also included a decent amount of land around it so we could have a garden full of fruits and vegetables.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I had glorious visions of this new "adventure" too: walking along the beach during the day with my son, collecting shells, hunting for bugs in the brush with him when he turned one...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">September 2013</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I gave my resignation at work, trained my successor, placed a forwarding address request with USPS - the usual "moving" things. Packed box after box after box. Got rid of a lot of things. Helped my in-laws move into our home. With mixed emotions we said a sad goodbye to friends and family, most of whom were also raised as Tim and I and/or couldn't argue with our decision.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">October 2013</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Moving day came dark and early on the 11th. The caravan was headed out before God was even up: leading the group were 2 extra-large U-haul trucks; my husband driving one and our neighbor Alex driving the </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2nd, 2 sedans which drove on ahead parted ways with us which contained my in-laws and the other contained Nick & his girlfriend driving the car to bring back the other drivers. I followed next in our FJ with BB sleeping in the back and towing the aluminum boat full to the brim, Nathan followed me in the little red Ford truck towing a trailer with Cocoa as his co-pilot. We were off. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I cried and cried. Probably cried several times on the trip, but I don't remember, I was trying to stay positive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Nathan got stuck behind a slow driver so I held back to stay with him as best I could. We arrived in Florence and I got lost and drove us around crazy in that small town. Finally we made it to house, unloading already underway. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I got out of the car and my MIL says to me very excitedly "welcome home!" - I held back tears, trying to be strong and positive, unloaded BB and took Cocoa into the house with me.</span><br />
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~ <i>to be continued...</i><br />
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<br />Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6291341671870832244.post-65982494723083354022014-05-27T18:18:00.001-07:002014-05-27T21:41:15.222-07:00Wardrobe Spring Cleaning!<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Confession: as an adult woman married to the love of my life in the early years of our marriage I would go shopping every payday-Friday. I think I did this for *maybe* a year, I don't recall exactly how long, I just remember it coming to an end because I started feeling like a compulsive shopper. Though I never became one of those women (or men) who went into debt of any sort from their obsession. Just wanted to make that clear! :)</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have loved clothes and shoes for as long as I can remember. They "speak" to me, I guess, and I obviously hear them; like those Pier 1 commercials I see occasionally. So obviously its hard for me to detach myself from these inanimate objects. However, I just have too many clothes (if you ask my husband he will also say I have too many shoes). This especially became a problem when we had to move, and move again, and then move again for a third time. Hubs did not appreciate seeing box after (large) box labeled "Kara's Clothes", especially because he was mainly the only one moving them as I was preoccupied with our infant. Now that we are "settled" into our new home I'm taking the time to evaluate each article of clothing, ignoring whether or not they still speak to me; instead I am asking myself a few things:</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1) Do I LOVE it or <i>like </i>it?</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2) Do I have multiples of the same style/color?*</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">3) Does it still fit me?</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The third question really should be the first because after having a baby last year I am not the same size on top, for obvious reasons. I can fit into all my jeans, capris, skirts (yay- maxis!), and pants just fine - hallelujah! Thank you skinny-family gene!</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">*Unless it's a long sleeved button-up cardi or a maxi skirt ;) For some reason I can't resist either of these items right now!</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br><br></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Because I have too many, and that I am coming to the realization that I won't be able to fit all of my clothes into our new, smaller home (boo for tiny closets), I have begun a "closet clean-out". I'm taking some things to a local consignment shop, using eBay to sell castoffs, donating to secondhand stores, and passing on some to my big sis! It has been marginally profitable and fun.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For the items which have passed my three question test, I place them in the closet or dresser, when I decide to wear that item of clothing, one of two things will happen:</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1) "no way" - instantly decide I don't like the item on my body and it gets added to the "purge" pile</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2) "iffy" - which means I'll wear it to work or elsewhere. However, if I am at any time during the day uncomfortable in it, it will thus be labeled "OUT!" and I will not be seen wearing it in the light of day again</span><div><font face="Trebuchet MS, sans-serif">3) "meh" - I </font><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">really can't decide yay or nay so I'll wait and test it out another day when I'm in a different mood or sequester it for 6 months and then make my decision</span></div><div><font face="Trebuchet MS, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Trebuchet MS, sans-serif">Part of what I said previously about how I feel about my clothing is that what I give away/sell/trade/whatever is that someone else will love it more than I do - just like the catchphrase by Olay "Love the skin you're in" I want to love the clothes I'm in!</font></div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6291341671870832244.post-36913843555816344822014-04-07T15:05:00.001-07:002014-04-07T15:05:51.419-07:00PinterestPinterest. The online replacement for clipping articles and images out of fashion magazines.<div><br></div><div>We just moved to a new house and with that comes unpacking boxes. I just opened a box, determined to put its contents where they belong and I discovered my collection of news articles, fashion, health, beauty, and jewelry magazine clippings.</div><div><br></div><div>Now how do I get all these onto Pinterest? Paper is like the Stone Age! Just kidding :) I just don't need more clutter and having paper articles like these hanging around my house makes it feel like clutter, even though these clippings are nicely contained in a plastic project case (the office-supply-geek in me just got all giddy).</div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6291341671870832244.post-82619243858462692432011-04-19T19:35:00.000-07:002011-04-19T21:02:22.193-07:00Life is a GiftThis blog post is way overdue. With that said, I will explain why that is. Pardon me if my thoughts and words seem jumbled; I am doing my best to hold back tears, though I have shed so many already. <div><br /></div><div>My heart has once again been ripped in two. Dakota, our 5 year old pit-bull we rescued from the Oregon Humane Society, died today. Lymphoma had slowly been destroying her body. That day I took her to the vet in December was one of the worst days of my life; I cried as much that day and the days following, as I am crying tonight. She was the best dog I had ever known and she loved us unconditionally. Tim and I were truly blessed to have her in our lives. </div><div><br /></div><div>I came home from work today and Dakota wasn't there to greet me with toy-in-mouth. Neither was she running down the hallway howling her own special hello to me, announcing to Tim that I was home. I cried on the spot. Tim walked in at the opportune moment to hug me and cry along with me - yes, he is not afraid to cry! He and I are doing our best to remember the positive things about our dog and not dwell on the fact that she's gone, but her absence is so difficult to endure.</div><div><br /></div><div>I miss her cold nose on my face, slobbery jowls resting on my leg, and her wet, messy kiss on my chin she so freely gave. Granted, she could be an oddity at times, which earned her the nickname 'Bozo', but that only made her more special to us. Though she was a pet, at the same time she was like our child; we took her everywhere with us that we could. We even packed an extra chair just for her on all of our camping trips. You may think it somewhat freakish that I said she was like our child, but, she was to us.</div><div><br /></div><div>I could keep going on about Dakota because there is so much to say. But I want to talk about when my heart broke for the first time, about what it feels like to have your heart ache.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tim and I don't have any kids of our own yet. We would have had our first one on June 25th, 2011. I can't ask why, or blame myself, because I honestly do not know; it is just one of those things. Only a woman who has gone through a miscarriage, or lost a child in another way, can truly understand what this feels like. My heart begins to ache and tears flood my eyes, but I know that my baby is forever safe from this world. Not a day goes by that I don't think about this child I would've had, because my life has been forever changed in a way I didn't think possible.</div><div><br /></div><div>There isn't anything else I want to say, because I want to keep those words for me. I just know that my heart has been broken twice now in such a small amount of time, I don't know what more I could take.</div><div><br /></div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6291341671870832244.post-90066655182556476012011-02-09T20:37:00.000-08:002011-02-09T21:22:14.541-08:00Time ShmimeAlas, I have not been keeping up with my blogging. I <i>really</i> want to, but I'm not finding the time, rather, I am not making the time to do it, or lots of other things for that matter. At the beginning of every year I say 'this year will be different', attempt to make positive changes, clean up clutter - physically and mentally - and then <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">BAM</span> it's 6 or 7 months later and I'm asking myself what happened. I hope I can follow through with this, along with everything else I want to do.<div><br /></div><div>I did it! I 'blogged'. It's the small triumphs that count :) </div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6291341671870832244.post-25861063176614807642010-09-29T10:06:00.000-07:002010-09-29T10:37:40.884-07:00As a Manner of FactI was making some breakfast this morning, waiting <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">in front</span> of the toaster and next to the refrigerator which I'm blocking entry access. I sensed someone walk up behind me and stop; they don't say anything, but just stand there, waiting...no "excuse me" or anything. So, providing satisfaction at their attempt of non-verbal communication as to what they want, I stepped aside and they opened the fridge. I was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">nonplussed</span> at their lack of manners - they are an adult. Ridiculous. Unbelievable. I must say though, that this is not just one occassion they've done this. Several times before they've walked up to my desk and just stood behind my chair and wait until I turn around. Um, aren't you the one disturbing me? Can you atleast say my name or something so that I know you're there, because I may not hear or see you standing there. I don't know why this bothers me so much, but it does. There are few things that irk me to no end and things like this happens to be one of them.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6291341671870832244.post-1670880890096635312010-09-21T09:40:00.000-07:002010-09-21T11:02:11.725-07:00We Ought Naught WorryMany times I've worried about what the next day will bring. On occasion I'd wonder: what am I going to eat? Where am I going to find that important document I misplaced? What is so-and-so going to say to me which I might not have a retort? How am I going to make it through an arduous day? Then, when tomorrow is here I find myself smiling because I worried so much about it and I shouldn't have; because I know that all my needs will be met & and my concerns will come to naught. Just yesterday I had forgotten to grab something to eat for breakfast and as I was driving I was mentally kicking myself for not getting something - but God provided. Someone had made a German chocolate baked dish and it was in the employee kitchen - aha - breakfast! Unfortunately, it wasn't a very healthy accompaniment to my coffee, but it stymied hunger pains until lunch! When things like this happen I'm reminded of <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Chttp://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew%206:25-34&version=NIV">Matthew 6:25-34</a>, which specifically states that we're not to worry about things like this - oh you of little faith! Yep, sometimes that's me, having little faith. But it's the little things like that which constantly remind me that my faith may be the size of a mustard seed, but God can move a mountain - or what may be mountain-like to you.Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6291341671870832244.post-4204944130299748472010-08-06T09:00:00.001-07:002010-08-06T11:13:47.182-07:00Compulsive ShoppingSomething dawned on me this morning as I was getting ready for work. I think I may have figured out why I like clothes and shoes so much, why I like to have more than one pair of each kind of shoes, why I like to buy things. To put it simply, I didn't have alot of new stuff growing up. Of course my parents bought me new things like shoes and underwear, all the necessities, but being the second girl in the family I was given hand-me-downs, LOTS of them, and not just castoffs from my sister, but from other families too. Could it really be as simple as that, or do I have a genuine compulsive problem that is clothes shopping?<br /><br />Maybe it has to do with being an adult, I can make buying decisions for myself now, and not hear my mother constantly say "We can't afford that", "I'm not buying that", or "You don't need that". One thing I think I did adopt from my mother is bargain shopping. It is one thing I'm happy to have learned from her. Every time we'd go to a clothing store she would always make the sale rack our first stop. Seriously, why pay full price if I can get it at a discount, use a coupon, or wait until it goes on sale? If it's still there when the sale occurs I'm meant to buy it, right? No, I know that's not right. What's wrong with me? I know I'm getting better though, because every payday I'd go clothes shopping, and I don't do that anymore. I wish I had an answer to these questions, or a diagnosis as to whether or not I have a compulsive personality about shopping. One thing is for sure though, I'm not going into credit card debt to buy myself things. If that were so then I'd know I really do have a problem and I should get some help.<br /><br />I have been doing a lot better in this area of my life in the last few months. I'm asking myself questions before buying that cute top that I have to have: how many different things will this go with that I already own? Do I really need to buy this, or am I buying it just to buy it? Do I really want to pay that much for this? Can I get this cheaper somewhere else? Do I already own something just like this? After I've asked these questions I usually don't end up buying the item, and admittedly, I do feel good about my decision. In addition to my own 'buying questions' and a few eye catching, unique tops & bottoms, I am trying to follow this guideline which I think is fabulous: <a href="http://www.realsimple.com/beauty-fashion/clothing/wardrobe-basics/essentials-for-a-well-balanced-wardrobe-10000001645205/index.html">The Essentials of a Well-Balanced Wardrobe</a>.<br /><br />Now, time to go shopping! ;)Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6291341671870832244.post-66027823043331690882010-08-04T17:45:00.000-07:002010-08-04T18:03:27.305-07:00Shoes - oh how I love and loathe thee<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; ">I wore a new pair of shoes today that rubbed on my toes and the back of my heel all day whenever I walked, not to mention they made all my mosquito bites itch because of the style of the shoes. So, I decided that when I got home I would add them to the pile of clothes and shoes that are going to be consigned. But what does my hubby say when I get home and he sees them?: "I like those shoes. They're cute." Rarely does he think or say that about any of my clothes or shoes that I am now compelled to keep them. I think they're cute too, dang it. Alas, I guess being fashionable is painful at times, in more ways than one.</span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6291341671870832244.post-74413101079102217722010-08-04T09:44:00.000-07:002010-08-04T09:53:51.033-07:00You are the weakest linkToday I must confess one of my weaknesses: I have a hard time admitting when I've done something wrong. I will admit to it, but I feel ashamed. Today for example, at work I never followed up on an email that a coworker sent me five months ago. Why did I never take care of it? I have no clue. So just now I had to set my pride aside and follow through with the request, furthering my embarrassment that I dropped the ball. This has happened a few times within the last year, luckily there have only been a couple and I haven't had any major repercussions come of it. Now that I have identified a weak area in my life I'm going to take the steps to make sure it doesn't happen again. I hope to adopt this for more areas of my life too, because God knows there are so many more :)Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6291341671870832244.post-73651317217836124492010-07-20T17:59:00.000-07:002010-07-20T18:12:12.391-07:00I have a blog?It has been over a month since I created my blog and I thought I'd have more to say than what I shared in my first post...apparently not. That being the case, I've decided to blog about what I've been doing recently: reorganizing and purging each room in my house. I've decided to tackle the office first, it being one of the most lived in rooms in our home for the past three years but recently has been abandoned as a catch-all place for items to deal with at a later date (more to come on why this room's constant occupancy has changed).<div><br /></div><div>Now, off to blogging about, and organizing the office! :)<div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6291341671870832244.post-22276524637859721562010-06-08T12:20:00.000-07:002010-06-08T12:35:16.403-07:00First blog post!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">First off I'd like to say that I don't have very many expectations of what I'd like to be doing with my blog. Mostly, I think it will just be a place where I'd like to capture my thoughts on certain topics thus removing them from my head, I hope. Isn't that what a blog is supposed to be? </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Why did I choose the blog name 'Random Ramblings of a Blonde Brunette'? I tend to have random thoughts rambling through my head at any given part of the day, and even though I'm a brunette, I still have blonde moments which may accumulate to saying off the wall things, and doing things that are usually only done by the stereotypical blonde. You'll see what I mean ;)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">With all that said, let the blogging commence!</span>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07243675880640666223noreply@blogger.com0