tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57811266013633395842024-03-05T01:45:18.261-08:00Her ScreedJasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-23514088400794857812011-02-22T14:44:00.001-08:002011-02-22T14:44:59.775-08:00MOVING Seriously yeah againyeah seriously.... im moving again. all my other blogs are at wordpress so i want to ger my "poop in a group". <a href="http://www.herscreed.wordpress.com/">www.herscreed.wordpress.com</a><br />
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see ya thereJasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-59408620607049874382011-02-20T12:11:00.000-08:002011-02-20T12:12:17.976-08:00Lessons on What Not To WearI was watching "What Not To Wear" the other day. Trust me, I'm not obsessed. I don't even watch it every day. I do like to watch it when I get a chance though. It's improved my sense of style quite a bit which is a good thing, trust me. But this blog post really isn't about What Not To Wear. I am not going to give you any dressing tips or critique spring fashion or anything though I do wish the whole skinny jean thing wasn't quite so prevalent. I don't mind owning a few pair but seriously? And with a heavy sigh I realize that they are what is going to be on the sale racks forever now so I will be wearing them even when they aren't "in" any more. OK. Sidetracked.<br />
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On the show the other night was a woman who had earned her PHD before she turned 30. She was now working as a professor. Her field of study was something to do with social science or something closely related to that. Basically society and how people interact in that and how people function or don't etc. She dressed terribly for her job. She had decided that fashion didn't matter at all which is pretty strange because when Stacy and Clinton started talking to her she started talking about all the different ways that people's perceptions of you can change the way they treat you and how the listen to you.... etc. She seriously was not getting a clue. It was a pretty good show though because she turned out to be not be quite so resistant to change as I thought she would be in the beginning and she had a great transformation. I haven't even got to my point yet but I'm getting there now.<br />
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What really stuck out to me in this show was not the fashion or lack thereof. It really had nothing to do with the show whatsoever. I was thinking about this young woman who had gone to school her whole life this far. From the time she entered kindergarten she had been in school. Clear until she was 28 or so. And then guess what? She went to be a professor! She never left school. I'm not saying that it isn't impressive that she completed that much schooling or that it isn't impressive that while still being so young (31 I think) she is a professor. Sure. Maybe those are good accomplishments. What is really crazy is that she hasn't lived at all! She hasn't traveled. She hasn't actually learned anything about society because for the past 20+ years of her life she has been buried in books studying about society and not participating. She got great grades and talked about how she didn't go out or anything because she didn't want it to disrupt her studies. We could applaud that. I know many people who would. Dedication right? But tell me this, how in the world does she know anything about anybody? Since when could you read a pile of books and come out thinking you really understood people and how the function? How is it that someone who has experienced next to nothing be so highly praised and then raised up to teach others when all they have learned comes from the exact same books that her students are about to study? When did life experience become so useless? How is it that what is highly praised is dedication to studying paper so that you can receive a paper so that you can teach someone else exactly what the paper says?<br />
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Just sayin'<br />
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Jasmine<br />
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<a href="http://www.shapingher.wordpress.com/about">Every mom's gotta earn her lattes... need to get in shape? </a>Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-27150866104087434662011-02-14T10:20:00.000-08:002011-02-14T10:20:48.206-08:00"Better than Sex" cakeThough it is sure to disappoint this is what I am making for our stay at home V Day today.<br />
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I am using <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/beattys-chocolate-cake-recipe/index.html"><b>this</b></a> chocolate cake recipe.<br />
Then half way through baking sprinkle a small handful of chocolate chips over the top of each cake.<br />
When the cakes come out of the oven cool them for a little while and then stack them and poke several holes in them. Pour 1 can of sweetened condensed milk over the top and let it soak in.<br />
Right before you are ready to serve make some whip cream and frost your cake with it and then to finish it off sprinkle some toffee bits all over the top. Welcome the sugar coma with wide open arms.<br />
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I strongly suggest eating this cake with a dark cup of coffee on hand to help balance things out. Being as it is V Day you should probably make this an experiment and have cake first and then go see if it is better than... well yeah, the title says it all doesn't it?<br />
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JasmineJasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-53613976779212918662011-02-13T15:03:00.000-08:002011-02-13T15:03:48.502-08:00Near DeathI had a near death experience this past week. I am not going to go in to detail because I am tired and I don't want to bore you but I'll just say that on my way down to TX to visit my grandma with my sister and my son and her son in the car with my parents in the car in front of us with my niece riding safely with them I wrecked in Fort Worth TX on the rutted ice after three days of driving in the worst weather and the worst road conditions I have ever seen. That is saying a lot considering I am from Montana, spent a winter in SD and have driven pretty much everywhere and currently live in norther MN.<br />
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I ran in to the concrete barrier in the middle of the road. I am so glad it wasn't the semi riding right beside us. Airbags deployed. We struck the barrier and then car jumped back several feet. A truck pulled up right behind us and blocked traffic.<br />
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We are all OK. Some whiplash and a good deal of emotional trauma and that is it. <br />
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Besides being alive you know what I am most thankful for? What came out the mouths of my sister and I as I realized that we were going to crash was a short prayer "Oh Lord...". Why? I am glad that is what is first out my mouth. First on my mind and not something foul. I am glad that it was words of peace and petition that my brain reached for first.<br />
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So glad.Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-59162721979168171292011-01-27T20:16:00.000-08:002011-01-27T20:16:53.957-08:00Ice cream and supermodelsI have been watched a few movies recently that made me think. Yeah, I do actually think about the movies I watch even though I am mostly watching non thinking movies right now. I just can't handle too much thinking or explosions or anything like that, haha, I think that it has something to do with becoming a mom. Maybe. Just a theory. Anyway, back to the movies. They have been chick flicks. Here's the deal with chick flicks, most of the time they are super skinny women, they are skinnier than they look because as we all know "the camera adds ten pounds". So where am I going with all of this? Hold on. I'm getting to my point. Every time something went poorly or "the girls" got together they ate junk food. Lots of it. Chips, ice cream, take out pizza, take out Chinese... Occasionally they go jogging. Or something.<br />
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Most of the time I just take it all in stride, probably like most of us do while watching a chick flick. BUT I really think there is a poor message going out, a mixed message... the message is saying that you not only can eat junk food and hardly work out but if you are not able to eat junk food and hardly work out and keep a media perfect figure. Talk about depressing! Doesn't it make you want to eat a pint of ice cream just thinking about it?<br />
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<i><b><i><b><a href="http://shapingher.wordpress.com/about/"><i><b>Every SAHM needs a way to earn her coffee money.... </b></i></a></b></i></b></i>Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-18522514691643996452011-01-25T15:26:00.000-08:002011-01-25T15:28:08.008-08:00The "good" and the "bad"What I really want to know is what makes all of us think that we can decide what "good" and "bad" is. I have heard the argument that people know what is "good" for them. Ha. That is almost funny.<br />
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We divide our food in to "good" and "bad". We ask people if they have "good" babies or "good" children.<br />
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What are we asking when we ask these questions?<br />
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<i><b><a href="http://shapingher.wordpress.com/about/"><i><b>Every SAHM needs a way to earn her coffee money.... </b></i></a></b></i>Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-34428610597761915272011-01-19T15:02:00.000-08:002011-01-19T15:04:37.866-08:00Acknowledging what's really there.OK. There is a serious difference between gossip and talking about people because they are people in your life or mutual lives. Also. There is a difference between gossip and just plain telling someone else that said person treated you poorly or that said businesses person is terrible at what they do or stating that someone is a cheat or always lies, or steals things. Let's get something clear here. These are not "judgment calls"and it isn't spreading malicious rumors of any kind. It's <b><i>communication </i></b>people. How else are people to know about there greater community? How else are we supposed to stay connected and concerned about lives other than our own? How are we supposed to learn from other people's mistakes? How are we supposed to steer clear up the untrustworthy business person and how are we supposed to know that we should take everything so and so says with a grain of salt or if so and so comes over just make sure you have things out that you aren't going to be upset about when they suddenly grow legs and walk out the door.<br />
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To me the important part is that you continue to speak to someone even if they are a liar and you acknowledge that and let others know that is a fact. You continue to care about the person who is a klepto and you even have them over but you face the facts and you don't let anyone else get things stolen from them just because you don't want to "talk about anyone".<br />
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I learned something hugely valuable in Mexico and that was the fact that you could state very bluntly things about people, even when that person was in the room, actually, especially when that person was in the room and everyone would acknowledge the facts and yet they still found humor in it and they fully embraced that person for what they really were and fully embraced their feels about them.<br />
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Seems kind of healthy to me.<br />
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Bluntly,<br />
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Jasmine <br />
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<a href="http://shapingher.wordpress.com/about/"><i><b>Every SAHM needs a way to earn her coffee money.... </b></i></a>Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-89676680641852137962011-01-09T21:10:00.000-08:002011-01-09T21:10:28.947-08:00Shaping our kids perceptionsDo we shape our kids perceptions? Sure. I think that we can agree on that. Our young children have us around and they are going to pick up on what we think, they are going to watch what we watch, or let them watch. They even pick up on the tone and words that we use. It is kind of freaky when your exact tone of voice comes out of a 2 year old. Gosh it is so hard not to laugh sometimes. It has seriously made me take a second look at the things that come out of my mouth!<br />
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Speaking of perceptions I had a moment the other day that really made me think about perception shaping moments... yeah, that sentence is a little garbled but let me explain.<br />
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My son was watching Diego the other day. It is one of those terribly annoying shows with squeaky voices and lame kid songs that my son loves. What is it with children and loving those terrible voices and songs? That is the beside the point. I like Diego. Yeah, I know I said that I despise the voices and songs but Diego is pretty benign, there isn't anything objectionable and he loves animals. I was half listening while catching up on some reading when it registered what the squeaky conversation was about. It was about giant turtles. No big deal right? Maybe. But those kids shows are sneaky... It was about a lonely sea turtle and he was getting help from Diego and Diego's sister about getting the sea turtle a "friend" that he could have a family with... HOLD ON!<br />
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OK there is something wrong with this situation. Talk about shaping a young child's perception! Think about it. Here this show is teaching my son that if you are lonely and look for a friend that you can start a family with your friend. OK. Maybe I am a bit extreme but think about it for a minute. You are lonely. You get a friend. You start a family with a friend. Great. Wonderful. Seriously? A kids show?<br />
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Perceptions? Hm.Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-66559094254157624352011-01-02T14:50:00.000-08:002011-01-02T14:50:22.125-08:00Virtual TourIt may seem like I put everything out there for everyone to read and discuss. It seems that way when you meet my whole family. It doesn't seem like we have anything that is private. <br />
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The fact is that we have lots of things that are private. I am in truth a loud outgoing type of person and I have no problem starting or keeping a conversation going but there are many things that I tell to only a few people. Mainly the people that I live with.<br />
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Many people are like that I am sure. Have things that they don't tell others.<br />
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Well I am going to open up a little bit of my privacy and give you a virtual tour of my little house. Just for fun.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicetFfnUftXq15qxdK8ARN84-Db9-ANmbpf_1Em0J2G74p4qp6yRPEgD3ZllZ_UbxWbfShRPsUHTkcvJeuNLO2gnvw7roQx-UxJvRQ3VMx46jtuGnWY5-ktG-20c3xLqc0rzh5h14RC-I/s1600/IMG_3663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicetFfnUftXq15qxdK8ARN84-Db9-ANmbpf_1Em0J2G74p4qp6yRPEgD3ZllZ_UbxWbfShRPsUHTkcvJeuNLO2gnvw7roQx-UxJvRQ3VMx46jtuGnWY5-ktG-20c3xLqc0rzh5h14RC-I/s320/IMG_3663.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b>Daddy and Jude reading in Jude's room</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiviDNvck7bjjsIqBH-l_Ql0IFGj2UYlZdzBoscJXuAFPTPY6APjt3d-FcFimbcQfg1pZdFgbmi8rZ1ItHMV5BxX0DnghbROQXAf-aHD5bPeCmnfOWAC15gPUFSResfYhs_UkEsD8ClbU/s1600/IMG_3664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiviDNvck7bjjsIqBH-l_Ql0IFGj2UYlZdzBoscJXuAFPTPY6APjt3d-FcFimbcQfg1pZdFgbmi8rZ1ItHMV5BxX0DnghbROQXAf-aHD5bPeCmnfOWAC15gPUFSResfYhs_UkEsD8ClbU/s320/IMG_3664.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Jude's room</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ6MQmBxvikPSyEd_YjxpL7gOxEk9V1AEhL70KKV4bJTupQV7JBd9px2plVIzNjo9V92GphBZk0TVR22743flFU3koCijlWveBFCVfAQB2Zq67rChbr8AomYsw7tK9li3tAz3SxBukZWI/s1600/IMG_3665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ6MQmBxvikPSyEd_YjxpL7gOxEk9V1AEhL70KKV4bJTupQV7JBd9px2plVIzNjo9V92GphBZk0TVR22743flFU3koCijlWveBFCVfAQB2Zq67rChbr8AomYsw7tK9li3tAz3SxBukZWI/s320/IMG_3665.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b>It's really hard to figure out what to do with all the wood we need to keep in the house and what do you do with shoes in such a small space?</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Oh yeah, the tin trash can has the kindling in it.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRzBsVpzGYPUNTiCy5QEl55LQxK6Ugwvi0yQ0YvHppYdlsPw13RlVEUuJ8hFQv9ymNvf5TB1QKBLQ4zcAOubZokrudqkO_edcmgySd-4aNCjjyBUJj69zxZ2JG0UVegRZz-CEoUwc0Xwo/s1600/IMG_3666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRzBsVpzGYPUNTiCy5QEl55LQxK6Ugwvi0yQ0YvHppYdlsPw13RlVEUuJ8hFQv9ymNvf5TB1QKBLQ4zcAOubZokrudqkO_edcmgySd-4aNCjjyBUJj69zxZ2JG0UVegRZz-CEoUwc0Xwo/s320/IMG_3666.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> My awesome spiral staircase.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN_OijFnS5vuxkg9H8FmVy8l6LGoGu5dPIEY37Uw_hmm2QC21O5y95pAr_Psgb6aovNBHTDDReuPsYwnvN9NzlNrFh9FtXiMxUZ9OOcZe50VeXGtKIPoeaczAnNTkQrECZI53wPxmR3DA/s1600/IMG_3667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN_OijFnS5vuxkg9H8FmVy8l6LGoGu5dPIEY37Uw_hmm2QC21O5y95pAr_Psgb6aovNBHTDDReuPsYwnvN9NzlNrFh9FtXiMxUZ9OOcZe50VeXGtKIPoeaczAnNTkQrECZI53wPxmR3DA/s320/IMG_3667.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b>Wood stove, an essential in the northlands.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGhUgxP04MZ8tmsMmqpa3aiE_fup_hPqCgKsWAlajlpNLfUcdl0l37x5WDkbXh7M3q-_KyMhYXxcOe3VPKLP5bYX_wXVUTqL3lIVZrPsQK5uASpBOJXGZsX28e7s5xNGK2AVqI1Xl-1BY/s1600/IMG_3668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGhUgxP04MZ8tmsMmqpa3aiE_fup_hPqCgKsWAlajlpNLfUcdl0l37x5WDkbXh7M3q-_KyMhYXxcOe3VPKLP5bYX_wXVUTqL3lIVZrPsQK5uASpBOJXGZsX28e7s5xNGK2AVqI1Xl-1BY/s320/IMG_3668.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> This is office/living room/play room or something.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMq0TjjgIJHfHEjIWzMcvsMMArMhJSZIj0ChbFt3inE5A0m5P6MLGc_aOwRPxYYDZZLKy9FgNZz8YP46lI1YArZfc_WTQ0HmG0XDpUIoLwck4x2wF3hUGyXkJL_Wzmt27Fb37x9uhDeAc/s1600/IMG_3669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMq0TjjgIJHfHEjIWzMcvsMMArMhJSZIj0ChbFt3inE5A0m5P6MLGc_aOwRPxYYDZZLKy9FgNZz8YP46lI1YArZfc_WTQ0HmG0XDpUIoLwck4x2wF3hUGyXkJL_Wzmt27Fb37x9uhDeAc/s320/IMG_3669.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b>Yeah, kinda awkward, our bedroom in downstairs, it is too hot upstairs and since Jude still comes to bed with us I was worried he would fall down the stairs trying to come up to us one night.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>P.S. My king-sized <a href="http://www.ikea.com/">Ikea</a> mattress is <i>so</i> worth the space it takes up.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVn3z0jQ4aNqkoGCUy3dfGLc3KhwItyQ8pYFCUiHxgwa4xuAAMBnvtRQQjC99a7SZQEk3MLj08EdYCx_bqtQDBPbc_k41MepmrttM7KtjfOd848qXFrl-e2TbfRuwZElrmO5IWGtcpwYQ/s1600/IMG_3670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVn3z0jQ4aNqkoGCUy3dfGLc3KhwItyQ8pYFCUiHxgwa4xuAAMBnvtRQQjC99a7SZQEk3MLj08EdYCx_bqtQDBPbc_k41MepmrttM7KtjfOd848qXFrl-e2TbfRuwZElrmO5IWGtcpwYQ/s320/IMG_3670.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b>Winter time makes the biking move indoors. Upstairs. This is where the <a href="http://www.mamafit.blogspot.com/">fitness</a> happens!</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vO1tEnoOshol_rpfseuTNEx9jhwnTN0G8D6xZADNLQgXmxymBUgrYlvft_5QK7HZvwuWhctaVWbEdDiRWpl4CY94MKnuY-GpKabJwwgr-d-Qj6rMS3L5iPmG6i3KFMD7Trdm1sKORQ8/s1600/IMG_3671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vO1tEnoOshol_rpfseuTNEx9jhwnTN0G8D6xZADNLQgXmxymBUgrYlvft_5QK7HZvwuWhctaVWbEdDiRWpl4CY94MKnuY-GpKabJwwgr-d-Qj6rMS3L5iPmG6i3KFMD7Trdm1sKORQ8/s320/IMG_3671.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> Finally, some dressers.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XJejDd9wNzYZdNeGGNBZQnJLtEIhuMgERrEW7uaMlxgp-VAoGND-0pYzChMIAcFL7b7ROdkSU0IJK9f2YgdvztgGZcSfT_tJwp81k1TUeRQ8DpLRqVy0abOUukZoavpC7ng-koHzWd8/s1600/IMG_3672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XJejDd9wNzYZdNeGGNBZQnJLtEIhuMgERrEW7uaMlxgp-VAoGND-0pYzChMIAcFL7b7ROdkSU0IJK9f2YgdvztgGZcSfT_tJwp81k1TUeRQ8DpLRqVy0abOUukZoavpC7ng-koHzWd8/s320/IMG_3672.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <b>Damien just built the bookshelf last month.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">You may have noticed that you didn't get a bathroom or a kitchen tour. That's because I don't have one! Ha. You may have caught a glance of my fridge and microwave stashed behind the spiral staircase and I won't mention that you might have caught a glance of a porta-pot upstairs. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Below<b> </b>is a shot of the "main cabin". Upstairs is my parents area housing both my <a href="http://www.lifelight.org/">dad's office</a> and my <a href="http://www.freedomtobirth.blogspot.com/">mom's office</a> and their little area. Downstairs in the main kitchen which we all share... all... yeah... there are 9 adults and 3 small children, everyone's little cabins are spotted around the main cabin. The shed you see in the distance is the wood/animal shed and behind that is the chicken coop and garden. Somehow were never able to shake our small farm roots.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><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/AVvXsEjlgFJg2D5vdRYzLxmjDbO7nFfwRDti0_5NFcV3wX0O7KG-mShd_dBlWl8xCcvoXeipUKBg5H5fSZYqV_hqK0aVzmNJ3kSK8n0yQYYIP_hWEr7roUcX5avBSKLkI-FKP8aU-i_LjC20x6A/s1600/IMG_3676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgFJg2D5vdRYzLxmjDbO7nFfwRDti0_5NFcV3wX0O7KG-mShd_dBlWl8xCcvoXeipUKBg5H5fSZYqV_hqK0aVzmNJ3kSK8n0yQYYIP_hWEr7roUcX5avBSKLkI-FKP8aU-i_LjC20x6A/s320/IMG_3676.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Yes, there is a bathroom in there and right around the corner, attached to the main cabin is an outdoor access only shower house/laundry room. Believe it or not we don't really stack up on top of each other to shower or do our laundry and we don't even have schedules posted.<br />
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I just got the dinner holler.<br />
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You have to be curious right? Ask questions!Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-73016206584999798762010-12-26T18:13:00.000-08:002010-12-26T18:13:06.883-08:00A Toast to the ReflectiveThe new year is a time for change blah blah blech. You will be hearing it all over the place, that is if you haven't already. I mean January magazine editions are hot off the press and everything is screaming in brightly colored letter accented by people with perfect bodies and the most perfectly chaotic/dramalicious lives that we can't help grabbing up an issue even if it is for just a moment while we are standing in the still ridiculously long post-holiday check out lines. I mean really, does anybody expect you to stand in line doing nothing!?<br />
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How to get a better body. How to be healthier. How to have better sex. How to abstain from the "bad" things in life. How to get more sleep. How to run more efficiently on less sleep. How to be "successful".<br />
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Setting goals isn't a bad thing. You may think that I am making a mockery of it but I feel the same thing. I feel the change vibes. Oh yeah. They are hittin' the groove stream. This whole next week is all about thinking back on this last year and looking forward to the next. It's the perfect limbo land and I am going to pump it for all it's worth! Really. I mean why let all of that excited energy go to waste? Why stand back and pretend that you are better than everybody else because you know that it is all a bunch of hype that people are going to be making a bazillion promises to themselves and others that they can't possibly or won't probably keep. So what? They aren't you. It seems a bit foolish to me to let the whole possibility on getting a little lift in to this next year slide by just because I am too snobbish to be counted amongst the masses that are setting themselves up for (failure to) change. These were my two picks for the beginning of the<a href="http://www.mamafit.blogspot.com/"><b> New Year</b></a>. But that is just the beginning.<br />
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Change is in the air and I am going to let it give me the boost of enthusiasm that I need to get to the fullness of the New Year. But change never comes before reflection. So, a toast to the next reflective days.Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-34296706613439455512010-12-11T18:10:00.000-08:002010-12-11T18:10:13.706-08:00Cultural - Merry Christmas!Those of you, whoever you are, who have been reading my blog may have got the idea that I am anti-establishment. You would kind of be right. I am more anti-institution but I know that lots of people don't really like to split hairs like that. Splitting hairs on some of these things is important. Why? Because it just is.<br />
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All this to say that there are some things that I know people boycott, especially holidays. I can't say that I blame them. My family has done that very thing. Boycotted the extreme commercialism and the intense pressure to buy buy buy for everyone, to go in to debt to buy everyone and their relatives gifts when what you are really giving is the gift of guilt and receiving gifts of debt. I know, bitter isn't it? I really think that a lot of us have to go through a stage where we boycott such things, it's almost like cleansing ourselves of the whole thing, detoxing, that is what it is, a detox. There is something to the whole detox thing. Really. I would say that <a href="http://inabus.blogspot.com/">my family "detoxed" from everything that is "normal"</a> in our culture for years, we've come out a wild bunch of characters that is for sure. So I am not saying that it doesn't have to be done.<br />
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There is a time though when the bitterness must fade and a new era of sorts has to dawn so that you are able to live life and really enjoy it to it's fullest. I am with Solomon on this one, life is short, you have to live it!<br />
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What does all this have to do with Christmas? Pretty much everything. We draw names in my family which really makes things nice because you can go pick out a really nice gift for the one person that you have to buy for, it is really great, I know lots of families have lots of different ways they do things but I am pretty sure that it helps with our holiday stress. Why is that? Because we don't have any holiday stress! Seriously. Zero. It's about celebration and enjoyment. And FOOD! I am embracing Christmas. I am not buying things because I have to. I fully recognize that Christmas to us is very cultural, they way we celebrate it is cultural, our gift giving for Christmas is cultural. It's great! It can be so much fun! Finding a perfect gift, even finding a "good deal" on the gift becomes all part of the fun.<br />
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I don't know, maybe I drank something in the water up here but Christmas this season to me is all about embracing culture and family and drinking it in until I can hardly hold any more.<br />
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I honestly think it's because I was so empty from the years of "detox" that I finally have room to feel the hunger and be completely filled with loving Presence.<br />
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Merry Christmas!Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-29717100871847588352010-12-09T19:07:00.000-08:002010-12-09T19:07:56.561-08:00Of passion, disturbing experiences, Jillian Michaels, strong wills and lesbiansI had an interesting thought, or maybe a disturbing experience, I'm not really sure because a lot of my interesting thoughts come about because of disturbing experiences or because I have an interesting though I tend to look out for disturbing experiences or I let them actually cross my mind and realize they are disturbing experiences I'm not really sure. In most cases it's kind of like a "what came first the chicken or the egg?" type of deal.<br />
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Anyway, Netflix is where i had my most recent experience. Just this afternoon actually. I was looking at the different categories that Netflix had so kindly chosen for me in my play it now lists and ran across "quirky movies with a strong female lead." Yeah, I dig that. So of course I take a look at the list. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when a large section of the list was comprised of lesbian films.<br />
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The day before yesterday (at least I think) I was talking with a few people about <a href="http://www.jillianmichaels.com/">Jillian Michaels,</a> I admit it, I'm a fan. I was talking about the fact that I knew quite a few people who had questioned whether or not she is a lesbian. OK. Seriously. The only reason that question is being asked is because she is a strong female and isn't afraid to use it.<br />
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I just read a statistic in Glamour magazine (Yes, believe it or not I actually subscribe to Glamour). The stats say that only 9% of women express their anger when they are angry at the person they are angry at, most women stuff it.<br />
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So where am I going with all this? Strong women. Being a strong, outspoken woman does not make you bad, it does not make you lesbian and it doesn't make you an overall angry person. I would know. I am one of them. I have been accused of all kinds of things being the loud-mouthed opinionated person that I am and I actually can't say that I have been totally OK with that. I hardly think it is fair that I was born with such a strong personality and with such a desire for people to like me at the same time because believe me they don't really mesh well.<br />
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Being a strong outspoken woman doesn't make you bad. It is who you are. End of story. And there is really no point in trying to cover it up or fake that you aren't what you are because you will be miserable. Flat out miserable. Either that or you better go get your prescription of Zoloft right now. Oh wait a minute! An insane amount of women right now are on anti depressants. I wonder if that has anything to do with the 95% of women who are stuffing their feelings? Nah. Also, women are some of the biggest motivators! When women begin to speak there will be people to listen. We have huge amounts of influence.<br />
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Jillian Michaels has a boyfriend. I just thought all you doubters should know that. Strong women and being a lesbian don't go hand in hand, not all the time anyway. Trust me. I know. I dig my man. But I do understand why a lot of women choose that when they are strong opinionated people, they feel like outcasts and there are many men who don't like that kind of woman so they go looking for affection within their own sex where they won't be hurt by the hateful things said about them or by the way that men try to conquer and subdue them.<br />
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The anger... passion is often times mistaken as anger just as excitement is often times mistaken as fear. People are afraid of passion and of passionate people. Passionate people are disturbing and they very rarely follow the rules and they could care less about the "norms" that they are stomping all over in their haste to express their passion.<br />
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Just sayin'.Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-27015372627766201832010-12-06T13:14:00.000-08:002010-12-06T13:14:48.927-08:00It's Easy for YouHere is on my favorite things and as I say that I can hear the soundtrack for the Sound of Music playing in the background with the sound of a high pitched soprano, the kind of tone I could never have, and the sweet voices of children singing "These are a few of my favorite things..." But these have nothing to do with "when the dog bites, when the bee stings..." or anything else like that and the list of my favorite things is actually a morbid list that isn't filled with puppies and warm fuzzy things but rather a collection of items that range from vaguely irritating to downright maddening and their subcategories are all my thoughts on the matter(s). This one definitely makes the list, maybe somewhere near the top.<br />
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There seems to be a good many people who think that since they have read a certain thing, or maybe lots of things, especially things that are backed by some sort of "evidence" of some kind. that they agree with that somehow they have done this thing and that it works out in actuality even though they have never actually done the thing that they are now pushing (Yeah, like a pusher but pushing an agenda of some kind not some sort of hallucinogenic) but the figure since the have all the evidence to back it and since they think it is a good idea that you should to. I was recently in a conversation with an older man who was telling my SM and I how we needed to "sit under" some older men (Yes, men in specific) to direct us. Ummm... first of you have no idea who we are or what we are doing or what we have done what exactly gives you the right to automatically think that we need directions from someone else? Here is another great example, people ask me about my son's birth and I tell them only to have them tell me how that just doesn't work or how lucky I am. I have people tell me all the time how things are just "easy for me" how it just doesn't work that way for other people. How the hell would they know? No one knows how I battle fear just as they do. Sometimes every day. I am actually fairly prone to panic attacks. I know. Embarrassing. It's true.<br />
Here's a good one. Have you ever had someone stand there and tell you how to change your lifestyle so that you can have a healthy or active life while all the while they are sitting on their butts doing nothing and take up enough of the couch to prove it? And somehow <i>you </i>are the one who is in the wrong? And why should you change? Because your lifestyle doesn't fit in to their little box that's why and it is making them uncomfortable.<br />
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The unfortunate part is maybe, just maybe you have what a lot of people want. You are healthy, fit, active, you have a great family and you hardly pay anything for rent, you aren't in much debt, you travel, your happy and your free but "It's just easy for you." And to that I have to say....<br />
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BULL! I work my butt off and so does and have everyone else who ever gained any character or did anything in this world. You want some of it? You'll have to work for it too and guess what? It won't be easy. And you know what else? There are a few people out there willing to help.Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-34849536549132819152010-12-02T19:44:00.000-08:002010-12-02T19:44:03.329-08:00Fear - A sour, contaminating substanceEveryone knows that the favorite tactic of evil men is fear. Fear, unlike it's more pleasant counterparts, is a huge motivator, maybe one of the strongest motivators. I tend to think it is because it stimulates the adrenal glands thus pushing even the laziest person in to crazed action.<br />
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Truth. Truth is the way to combat fear but truth also is the cause of fear. Sometimes it is people themselves that balk at truth but usually it is because someone "above" them has conditioned them to fear certain truths, certain things that challenge ultimate authority. <br />
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As it turns out on of the best ways to cultivate fear is to create an institution of some kind that can manufacture fear large-scale-factory-style with a few good men (and women) at the controls, usually something like a board of directors or something of the sort, along with some good minions to do their bidding that may or may not be in on the actual reasoning behind the fear-perpetuation of institution as a whole. Most people like to think that they are being looked after and cared for, they will swallow almost anything to believe that nothing has to do with money or control but stems from the goodness of a heartless institution because no matter what anyone would like to believe and institution is a dead thing.<br />
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We are continually told that certain things must be said and done "for the greater good". Who and what is the greater good and since when does the greater good come before the injured, suffering, sick or dying that is held in the arms of those that love them? <br />
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Fear is the catalyst to the control because the masses can be controlled by fear. Add just a bit of fear of the unknown to any suggestion and you can bet that the masses will flock to the familiar, or what is represented as the familiar. Fear is like a sour taste in your mouth, bitter bile that you want to spit out. It is contaminating like yeast, bubbling up the substance that houses it and growing it to consume everything around it. People hate what they fear.<br />
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Fear - salted sparingly with misquoted truth - turns people from intelligent, thinking beings in to nothing more than a stampeding herd of cattle.Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-30356129119085052042010-11-29T12:53:00.000-08:002010-11-29T12:53:18.458-08:00The Little Red HenI'm a fixer. I don't like to watch people fail and I really hate to fail. I tend to be very hard on myself and I expect the same out of other people. That can be a recipe for a train wreck. It can also be the recipe for intense motivation. I am learning a really good lesson right now from a kids book. My mom read this book to me when I was little and now I am reading the same one to my son but what he doesn't know is that it is mommy's favorite book right now because I need to read it over and over and over again until the reality of what it is saying sinks in deep and some part of me really digests it and I start living this little book, guilt free. Why? Because I know it is going to make my life better. I know that I am going to be less stressed and in doing so I will be less frustrated with other people because not only will I not expect them to live up to an insanely high standard I also won't be frustrated when they end up not doing anything at all.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Little-Red-Hen-Big-Book/dp/0618836845?ie=UTF8&tag=herscr-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">The Little Red Hen</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=herscr-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0618836845" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" />. In short this hen does everything around the house for a lazy dog, cat and mouse, one day she finds some wheat and asks for some help to plant and then tend and finally harvest grind and make the wheat in to a cake. The response of the other animals is "Not I!" until the little red hen gets to the part where she asks "Who will eat this cake?" of course everyone jumps up and comes running in to the kitchen wanting a piece of cake. What does the little red hen do? Well she gives her cake up of course because she is the perfect martyr and then cleans the kitchen while fuming about how the others never do anything and she goes to bed hungry and angry. OK. So that isn't what happens. She tells them to take a hike. She says that she has done everything by herself and now she is going to eat the cake by herself. And she does. All of it. She doesn't even share. That wicked.... hen. The book ends by saying that from then on she had to do everything by herself and she was selfish until she died. OK. Not really. It says that from then on she had three very eager helpers. Her one act changed the lives of all of them. How is that possible? It boggles my mind! How did something that seems "selfish" end up being the thing that brought all these animals together and made their house a happy sharing home? Here's my take on it. Of course I am going to give you my take on it, I mean you are reading my blog after all and everything in this blog is jammed full of opinions but the warning is in the title. The hen knew that she couldn't just give in and continue to live life as it was with her being all pissed off that she wasn't getting any help and on top of it depriving herself of the things that she enjoyed. Even though she didn't get any help with the work it took to plant, take care of, harvest, grind and make the wheat in to a cake she did it anyway, she did the work because she enjoyed it and knew she would enjoy the end result of her labor, you see it isn't the work that gets her undies in a bundle it's the other animals thinking that they deserve all the benefits when they do none of the work. When she bakes that cake that day she decides that things are going to be different. She has a lump of guilt in her throat that she can hardly talk around when she tells the other animals that she is going to eat the cake alone and the cake may have been one of the hardest things she had to swallow, the first few bits anyway. But then something amazing happens, she lets herself enjoy eating the cake and when she is done she happily cleans up the kitchen and goes to bed, content. The next day she wakes up to three transformed animals. She doesn't become lazy, she loves to work and cook but now she has the help that she needs and she gets to watch them enjoy their hard work by eating the next cake that she bakes that they helped plant, tend, grind... and dang-it even if she hadn't got the help that she needed she had found out that she could happily go about her business but that it wasn't her job to make sure those other animals were fed. She didn't lose anything. She gained companions. And she had her cake and ate it too.Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-64241634501071454602010-11-26T11:05:00.000-08:002010-11-26T11:05:24.170-08:00CultureI joined the insanity today and it made me feel oddly American. In a good way believe it or not. Joining in traditions can be a great experience, in my opinion it is one of the only ways to really get to know a people. I don't think I every truly appreciated traditions in the US until I lived in another country and learned to appreciate and respect their traditions. It was odd how that happened. Opening up to love their country and a new (to me) people gave me the ability to look at my own country with a new pair of eyes and to recognize and appreciate things in a whole new way.<br />
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What I did not appreciate was the two young men who walked out of Herbergers at 3:30 a.m. this morning with two arm loads of Columbia coats that they had not paid for. Why? It is odd how a thing like that can make you feel violated. You didn't do it. You told someone about it (well, my mom did) but they still got away with it, it has an odd way of making a person feel dirty.<br />
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There are just some things about people all the way around, in this country and in every other that you just can't like.Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-27796881966625912352010-11-22T18:10:00.000-08:002010-11-22T18:10:02.886-08:00Dear HospitalDear Hospital,<br />
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First of all I would like to say that I am not pointing this at any of the staff that come to work every day like everyone else, hoping for a paycheck in this economy. I don't mean to make your day miserable because I am completely pissed off. I am sorry that you have to be the one that opens and reads this letter because I know there is nothing that you can personally do to change this autocratic system. But I have to be heard otherwise I sit here feeling like a victim, yet again.<br />
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I come to the hospital only when I don't have any other choice. I am one of those weirdos that likes to take care of things as naturally as possible, and yes, that does include drinking herbal infusions and taking tinctures. I also like to prevent sickness by eating well, exercise and sleep. Sure, I know that you say people should do those things but in reality if we weren't sick you would be out of a very lucrative job.<br />
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When I do venture in to a hospital, especially the ER, it really is an emergency. Unfortunately this last visit didn't have to be an emergency it's just that you haven't made care readily available in small towns at odd hours in any other form than the hospital ER and since I have no other choice other than to go to the ER you make sure that I pay for all the times that I didn't visit this year.<br />
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How in the world can you charge more than the sum of my house payment, groceries, internet, cell phone and power bill for <i>one </i>visit for an infection that I already told you that I had. Here is a direct quote from the RN "well we wouldn't have even had to test that, it was obvious what you had." all that while handing me the antibiotic that in the hospital they probably charged me $100 for when I went and got 10 pills the next day from Wal-Mart for $4. Am I the only one that see's something wrong with that?<br />
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When I called to complain about the outrageous bill you had sent me you said that that was only for the doctor and there was a second bill for me taking up space in the completely empty ER. The doctor worked for the clinic and they wanted their slice of the pie as well, my pie, my son's pie, my family's pie. And then they ask me why I don't have health care. Do you know what health care costs at my husband's job?<b><i> $650 PER MONTH!</i></b> We can't afford that. There is no way. I have been told that they have the "best" health care coverage in town. I don't know how anyone could know that because I don't know who in this small town could afford that on what they pay for wages here.<br />
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I have digressed. I guess this isn't your problem is it? You just want me to shut up and pay your bill. But I do want to know how a doctor gets paid almost $250 for spending less than two minutes with me. I mean I know that he is in his late 40's and probably would really like to pay off the rest of his enormous student loans and is probably paying one of his children through school right now but how do his costs get rated higher than mine? That RN got screwed. He spent all the time with me and I bet his paycheck wasn't half that.<br />
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Did I mention that I knew what I had? I even knew what I needed to take to get rid of it but do I have an option to purchase what I need or to get a quick checkup and prescription? No. I am <i>forced</i> to go to the ER. I am forced because there are no other options.<br />
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Something is terribly wrong. I know you can't fix it. I can't either. I can't pay your outrageous prices. What happens next time I need help?<br />
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Thanks for your complete lack of concern for the general populace.<br />
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Sincerely,<br />
JasmineJasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-37599609539788369612010-11-20T14:11:00.000-08:002010-11-20T14:11:30.756-08:00Music AwardsSo I'm back. I finished my <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/">NaNoWriMo</a>. It was fun. I was really ready to be done. Which is king of funny considering there are still five days until I can even submit the thing for them to tell me that I have actually written over 50,000 words. I guess I jumped the gun a little bit.<br />
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Just a little FYI. I started a <a href="http://www.mamafit.blogspot.com/">new blog</a>. Just because. Now that I don't have a novel to write I had to put all that nervous energy somewhere. So go take a look. I think that I need to do some sort of makeover on my blog so that I can link them up and such. Oddly enough I really don't like doing that. It reminds me too much of scrapbooking. I hate scrapbooking. I love other people's scrap books. They look great. It's creative. I hate it.<br />
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So on to the real meat of this blog. I am hosting a music award this afternoon. Right now. Sorry I didn't give you all any warning but this isn't up for a public vote. I give the award. You all read my rant and we all stay happy. Especially after I get this doozy off my chest.<br />
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We were recording earlier this week and since we were playing music the subject of music was buzzing everywhere. Musical opinions are almost as volatile as political opinions. And the subject of lyrics came up. Now I'm not going to tell you about this whole conversation but it did start me thinking and that is where the great idea was born to host this award. One song and one song only will win this afternoon. I bet you are wondering what it is. I am going to keep you in suspense for the next couple of sentences while I explain the criteria for winning.<br />
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To win the song must display lyrical power and a hip beat that makes everyone want to listen to it over and over it also must be the number one song that will push the average teenage right over in to having sex with his or her significant other after hearing played at this years prom (Has prom already past? Sorry, homeschooler talking here), anyway, it is important that this song just may make much older men and maybe the occasional pedophile also salivate over the fact that they could put their hands on a teenage girl. And before you all start freaking out let me first say that yes, I do know the lyrics of the song, and yes, I actually do have half a brain and I do know what she is "actually" talking about so you can forget leaving a comment correcting me. SOOOO... the moment you all have been waiting for. AND THE WINNER IS.... KATY PERRY singing "Teenage Dream". Enjoy.<br />
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<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/98WtmW-lfeE?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/98WtmW-lfeE?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-72549073650809722262010-11-09T21:15:00.000-08:002010-11-09T21:15:06.491-08:00And the tears driedI have to take a break. This whole NaNoWriMo thing is getting to me tonight. Oh, don't worry I am totally keeping up with my word count. I am way too competitive to not have that happen. I just hope I don't run out of story before I get anywhere near my word count. I can feel a little bit of panicked frustration setting in. Anyway, this is the antidote. I am going to combat writing boredom by writing something. Something different.<br />
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I have always been a crier. My mom tells this story about me at when I was around five years old or so. I was sitting in a pile of laundry that I was supposed to be helping my mom fold. I was sitting there in the middle of the clothes bawling. Why? Because I just couldn't do it or maybe because I didn't want to do it which is very likely. But I can almost guarantee that there was this well of frustration bubbling up in that little girl. She was crying because she couldn't get it right. Never mind that this was probably the first time that she had actually tried to fold clothes in her mind she should be able to do it and do it perfectly, the first time.<br />
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I have carried that kind of attitude in to my adult life. When things are difficult I cry, when I am frustrated I cry, angry, sad... you get the picture. But these are not tears of some softy these are tears of frustration and disappointment. I am usually frustrated at myself for not being able to do something perfectly the very first time. There is a right and a wrong way to do things and if you don't get it right then you are wrong. That really has been the philosophy of my mind for as long as I can remember. I don't even know why. That is not what I was taught when I was young. I don't ever remember feeling pressured to be perfect at any of the things that have brought the tidal wave of tears. <br />
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I also cry when someone is frustrated with me or even if they are someone important in my life and they have a serious discussion with me. I can't help it. It's like the floodgates open up. They aren't floodgates of sadness they are floodgates of self-anger of frustration that I had not foreseen what I was about to be told and avoided it completely. The thing is there always has to be something wrong with me and if I could just figure it out and get it corrected then I would make everyone happy all of the time and I would always do things right.<br />
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Wow. I am actually getting tired just writing that. When it is all out there it sounds completely stupid. I might be able to see why a child would think that way but when it moves in to the world of adults it doesn't look quite as "right".<br />
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Recently I have been noticing something. My tears are drying up. Maybe it has something to do with getting a little older and (maybe?) gaining some maturity. Maybe it has something to do with being married for a few years now. Maybe it has something to do with having my own child. Suddenly I am finding some grace for myself. Oh, I am not saying that it is coming easily because it isn't, I actually have to trample over loads of guilt, sometimes every day, sometimes I have to get over guilt about not feeling guilty! <br />
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I knew something was changing the other day when I had had a few serious discussions with important people in my life and I didn't cry during any of them. As a matter of fact I didn't cry after any of them either. I took everything that was being said and looked at it for what it was, a conversation, an exchange of thoughts and ideas from one adult to another, they weren't doing anything wrong and I wasn't doing anything wrong. We were sharing.<br />
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I had an even more emotionally charged discussion tonight. Not once did I feel like crying. At one point I felt the frustration start to rise and settle at the back of my throat, it began to form a lump around which I was having difficulty swallowing. And then I realized how silly I was being. Why would I let something like a discussion dictate my emotions like that? Why would I start passing blame? Why would I blame myself for something that there was no blame in? Who in the hell am I anyway to decide that I am so powerful that I can direct the emotions and/or outcome of other people's lives and emotions. HA. When I look at it that way I actually have to laugh at myself. Which, believe me, is not easy for me to do but it is getting there.<br />
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I am leaving the clothing pile to the five year old and I am moving on.Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-38696126275919545342010-11-03T22:09:00.000-07:002010-11-03T22:09:31.951-07:00A Big BlankSo that is what my brain is right now. I am attempting to do this whole NaNoWriMo thing and so far I am keeping up but seriously, it's only day 3, not real hard to do. The worst part of the whole deal is that you aren't really allowed to do any revision, you are just supposed to puke stuff out, I am starting the think that is just what this is going to be, a pile of steaming puke. That is what "they" say you are supposed to be doing, it's supposed to get your creative juices flowing, apparently enough that it regurgitates onto the page. I would like to think that there might be something that I can "use" out of all of this how's that for a capitalistic thought?<br />
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So here's to puking this stuff up for the next month.Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-15425135808822132912010-10-23T14:18:00.001-07:002010-10-23T14:18:14.562-07:00Boys - To make or breakThere is a very pretty song for girls by John Mayer called Daughters it tugged at my heartstrings when I heard it the first time and I had warm fuzzy thoughts of my daddy and what a wonderful man and father he is. But the more I think about it the less I like this song. I have recently been faced with the incredible injustices that are being done to our sons. For example, take the John Mayer song that I mentioned before:<br />
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<i>"Boys, you can break<br />
You'll find out how much they can take<br />
Boys will be strong<br />
And boys soldier on..."</i><br />
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I have also heard these sentiments from mothers "I quit bathing with my son when he was a young toddler because he started asking questions.", "I quit breastfeeding my son or am having a difficult time because it just feels weird nursing a boy, too sexual.", "I don't know what to do with his "junk".", "It just feels weird being pregnant with a boy, I mean I have a penis growing inside of me!".<br />
At first glance you might think that these are just comments from ignorant people but they are not, these are comments from regular, every day mothers.<br />
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From the beginning our sons are made to be aliens, strange that they are growing inside of us. Soon after their birth they are whisked away to have part of their penis chopped off, we mutilate them for life, violate their rights, without ever asking their permission. We feel strange about spending time with our sons not fully clothed, we don't know how to deal with their private areas and so we don't lean on our motherly instinct but instead we defer to those that "that have that kind of equipment". And what about breastfeeding? How is it that breasts have become such a sexual object to us as a culture we can't even enjoy nursing our sons without feeling like we are doing something dirty?<br />
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I don't blame mothers. I know I may sound blunt but I am not aiming to heap guilt on a group of people who already feel guilty a large portion of the time, mothers who are constantly worried about whether they are making the right choices. But I do want to point out that there is an incredible injustice being done to our boys! Boys are breakable! Boys tend to be hypersensitive to criticism and their mothers are emotional havens of safety for them, if they are allowed to use them as such. <br />
This has all been germinating in my mind for a while but came to a head last night as my husband, after receiving pictures of his childhood, told me story of horrific story of his childhood. Now my husband is a fairly extreme case but under it all I saw the damage that had been caused in his life by him being treated as "unbreakable", I saw confusion, hurt and shame that he didn't do something to stop his own suffering and the suffering of others around him, the guilt of responsibility weighed so heavily on him. He had in some ways "soldiered on", he never told anyone his story, he became a good man but it hasn't changed the fact that there is a damaged boy there that hasn't forgotten his story.<br />
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So many times you hear boys called "mamas boys" and I say "But of course they are!" We are their mothers, they are our boys, we are one of the two most influential women in their lives. We have the power to make or break our boys.Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-49124495656577586882010-10-19T19:28:00.000-07:002010-10-19T19:28:40.078-07:00Hope's Daughters<h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><i>“Hope has two beautiful daughters: their names are anger and courage. Anger that things are the way they are. Courage to make them the way they ought to be.” St. Augustine</i></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><i><br />
</i></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;">This is what happens when you have an unending cold that you can't seem to get rid of and yes, before you ask I have tried all kinds of things to get rid of it, sometimes you just have to settle in for the long haul, such it up, something. The worst part is that this is a whiny cold so there really is no sucking it up, all I do is whine, it's disgusting really, I can hear myself but I can't seem to stop, I probably sound something like my 2 year old, ok, so maybe not quite that bad but you get the idea.</span></b></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></b></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;">I am sure that you are wondering what crying about my cold has to do with the awesome Augustine quote at the beginning of this blog. It has nothing to do with it honestly this is just a large open forum to whine to.</span></b></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></b></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;">Hope. Anger. Courage. St. Augustine says it beautifully and with complete poetic power, I can almost see anger and courage, their hair a flaming mass, anger is dark as a storm and courage is bright as a flame, they are clothed in flowing clothing and their eyes see in to your soul. I'm weird like that, I always see pictures as I read words.</span></b></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;">I am angry. You may have noticed. I mean, who names a blog "screed" something like a diatribe isn't really mellow, it is angry. My posts generally ring of something angry. It is not that I am an angry person per-se except that I am. Content and angry. Content with my life and how beautiful it is and angry at the way things are. </span></b></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;">Lately I have heard some things that have made me good and angry. People being degraded, that angers me. I listened to a story of a young girl stolen from her car and made to be a prostitute, held by shame and fear she will die a slave. I heard a story of someone who was abused by a social group, no one did anything about it, drowning in shame and fear it took her years before she told anyone. but she isn't the only one. I have heard stories of women who are afraid to have any more children, they think that their bodies have betrayed them and that they are weak they are afraid and ashamed. I have heard of women who quietly suffer as the struggle with feeling attached to their baby because of their rough start together, they are full of shame and afraid. I am outraged. The list could go on. I am outraged because there are people holding other people down, destroying them, putting them under a cloak of fear and shame so thick that they can't even see the hem of light that Courage wears. </span></b></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b></h1><h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;">And my courage? I am making things the way they ought to be. One day at a time. One person at a time. It doesn't matter that I am strange or that I feel lonely while I do it. This isn't just one cause or really a cause at all it is life. Courageous life.</span></b></h1>Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-1045530370349698482010-10-08T19:28:00.000-07:002010-10-08T19:28:48.947-07:00A old fashioned feminists manifestoSo how is it possible to be "old fashioned" and feminist at the same time? Well first off lets just start with what it means to be feminine. To be feminine means nothing more or less than being female! Having female attributes and character. So in the true heart of a real feminist who loves the fact that she is a woman and embraces every (or at least tries to!) quirk and the full blown power that it is to be female... here is my manifesto of sorts.<br />
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<i><b>I am a woman. I am powerful creative and beautiful. I am a safe harbor in society a nurturing shelter and a rampart for safety. How do I know that I house this power? Because it has been this way for thousands upon thousands of years! Women have birthed the nations, they have nurtured greatness and created monsters. And I as a woman state my manifesto here today because I was created to be feminine and will (try) and embrace all that it entails, every part, without shame.<br />
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I will be sexy, mystical and alluring to my husband, my one and only, who I have saved myself for, I will be his satisfaction and he will be mine.</b></i><br />
<i><b>I will use my vagina to birth my children.<br />
I will use my breasts to nourish them and I refuse to hide when doing so.<br />
I will use my voice and my presence to comfort my children and quiet my husband in their distress. </b></i><br />
<i><b>I will choose to raise my own child, my own way.<br />
I will use my strong mind and will to block the barrage of questioning that will try and shake me to my foundations about the choices I will make for me and my family but I will stand firm and I will know that I am right because I am a nurturer, it's in my blood, in my DNA, I know what is right.<br />
I will look at myself and I will see...</b></i><br />
<i><b>That I am beautiful and I am worth spending time on. I won't let myself fall apart or become frumpy. <br />
I will choose to be pale in the winter because I am white and that's ok. I refuse to tan because I refuse to opt for skin cancer.</b></i><br />
<i><b>I won't wear a bra for any other reason than for the occasions that call for it for fashion sake and then I will make the decision knowing that it is fashion and there is no piece of fashion worth my health (</b>check out the connection between bras and</i> and breast cancer<i><b>).</b></i><br />
<i><b>I will choose to love, a lot and laugh really loud.<br />
I will choose not to be embarrassed about my foot-in-mouth moments.<br />
I will choose to sing and run and cycle and enjoy having an active body.<br />
I will choose to live in a community because I like it.</b></i><br />
<i><b>I will choose not to explain myself.</b></i><br />
<i><b>I will remain teachable. </b></i><br />
<i><b> I will choose not to be silenced.</b></i><br />
<i><b>So help me God. Because He is the reason I can do any of it.</b></i><br />
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</b></i><br />
The end.<i><b><br />
</b></i><br />
<i><b></b></i>Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-81299109967238669342010-09-20T14:39:00.000-07:002010-09-20T19:29:58.322-07:00My PTS StoryYou may think that I missed the rest of the acronym but I really don't think that the D in the whole equation fits my experience very well.<br />
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I didn't even know I had it. It actually seems kind of lame to talk about it even now. Why do we talk about difficult things in our lives? Trauma? Are we vying for sympathy? Or is what I feel right now, the feeling that if I tell my story maybe there are others out there who have the same/similar experience that need somewhere to connect and maybe, just maybe there is an institution that needs re-vamping. You be the judge.<br />
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On our way home from our honeymoon 3 years ago I was laying in the passenger seat with my teeth chattering. I knew I was sick but thought I had the flu. I just wanted to get home to the apartment, take a bath and go to sleep. Hours later it was after 2 in the morning and I am sitting in the bath crying, shaking, sweating and not able to talk in a coherent manner. My SM took me to the ER where I ended up spending several hours answering questions to a nurse and a student doctor and filing paperwork in-between bouts of not being able to remember things and my chattering teeth. By that point my sweater was soaked through with sweat. I think they gave me 2 over the counter pain killers.<br />
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When the doctor finally arrived he asked if I had any idea what I might have I responded that I thought it may be a UTI considering I had just gotten married and it can go with the territory when it is your first partner. (Can I tell I am trying to put that as tactfully as possible, HA, I just didn't want to blast your delicate sensibilities with the fact that many virgins after having sex for the first time go rounds with a UTI.) The doctor briskly told me that wasn't the case, I didn't have a UTI and he needed to perform a vaginal exam. Out came the cold metal speculum, the room was filled with few nurses the doctor and the woman doing paperwork. It was cold and I was terrified and mortified. I had never had an exam. I had always been taught that everything there was private, that I shouldn't let people violate my privacy. I was confused, sick and both SM and I were worried so we didn't say anything. I just cried. After that they finally ran the urine test, the doctor came in shortly after and said "you have a bad UTI", he wrote me a prescription for antibiotics and sent me home. The didn't start me on any and we had to wait through the rest of the night to get the prescription filled as soon as anything opened.<br />
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To make a bad story worse it turns out that he gave me the wrong type of antibiotic and only a few days worth when I needed at least 10 days. It goes on with more drama from there but it would just subtract from the original story which was giving you a peak at my PTS realization.<br />
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I went in to the ER on Saturday night. Why? Well because I knew I had a bad UTI and of course it was Saturday night so nothing but the ER is open and nothing on Sunday and I knew I couldn't wait until Monday morning. Seriously, somebody needs to get a 24 hour clinic up in this joint. There was hardly any paperwork and there was no one waiting so I got right in to see an RN. When the doctor came in for his 5 second visit he had me lay down so that he could touch my stomach and back to see if there were key pain points. I froze. I started shaking and feeling panicked, when he touched me I flinched.<br />
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I can laugh at myself a bit now. The doctor on Saturday didn't do anything, just his job. But on the inside I knew I had touched on something. And now what do I do about it? Well, when a traumatic event has happened it takes telling the story at least 50 times for it to become history. So here is my<br />
story.<br />
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<i>After reviewing I should actually add that this is not a diagnosis of any kind but merely a way, with some dry humor, to describe the emotions that I ran in to during my ER visit on Saturday and realizing that I still felt somewhat victimized by the events in the ER 3 years ago. </i>Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5781126601363339584.post-57242791588983517362010-09-13T14:22:00.000-07:002010-09-13T14:22:59.727-07:00"Life is like...... a box of chocolates." Or that is what Forrest Gump would have us believe. So I get his point, "you never know what you are going to get". Very true. That is why I was never a fan of those boxes of chocolates, I love chocolate and there is just nothing worse than biting in to something you should love and finding that someone stuffed full of some kind of gooey or chewy gunk. It is really a terrible experience.<br />
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I'm off track now. "Life is like a box of chocolates." Mmmm not so much. Chocolate is a wonderful thing but it does nothing to fill you up, it doesn't satisfy like real food does and an excess of it leaves you over-sugared, under-nourished and leaves you with a couple of extra pounds to carry around. Chocolate is an extra, a treat. Does that sound like life? Maybe. I have met people that seem to treat life that way and it leaves them the same way as a chocolate overdose. <br />
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I have always felt that I have lived a wonderful and adventurous life but this summer has opened my eyes in a new way. Maybe it was turning 25 and really having something click that I am REALLY an adult and that there are so many things I want to do in my life and that there is just a set amount of days... but it didn't come with the feelings that life was fatal it came with the feeling that life is to be LIVED, that life is ALIVE, that it is thriving and growing and moving. This has been the theme of the summer. Life.<br />
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Life to me is a meal. It is hot soup and a hearty cheese bred on a cold day. It is Thanksgiving dinner. It is comfort food. It is something that I enjoy every bite of and then scrape up the leftovers and something that a take a tiny bit more of even though I am full just because I want to savor one more spoonful.<br />
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Speaking of dinner....Jasmine Carlsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178929523665483373noreply@blogger.com3