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    <title>The Whole Kit &amp; Caboodle</title>
    
    
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    <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:weblog-1741268</id>
    <updated>2009-03-06T07:11:10-08:00</updated>
    
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        <title>Cause Camping is the Shiznit, really</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-63734393</id>
        <published>2009-03-06T07:11:10-08:00</published>
        <updated>2009-03-06T07:13:22-08:00</updated>
        <summary>When is it exciting to wash and vacuum your car? When you're getting it ready for a road trip, of course! Yay for crazy, last minute plans! The hubby has a couple days off, maybe his last for a while...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>andrea thurber</name>
        </author>
        
        
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<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>When is it exciting to wash and vacuum your car? When you're getting it ready for a road trip, of course! </p><p>Yay for crazy, last minute plans! The hubby has a couple days off, maybe his last for a while once he starts his new job next week, so we thought we would pack up and hit the open road. Turns out, most people make reservations in advance. Drats. After calling about a million campgrounds, we finally found someone willing to lend us a little spot to pitch our tent. So we'll be visiting the very serene and laid back town of Dauphin Island for a few days. </p><p>I was looking forward to coffee at my favorite place and a yoga class (or two) in Grayton Beach, but the universe has its busy little hands all in my life lately, so I'm just going to go with the flow. I'm pretty stoked actually, I havent been to Dauphin Island since I was 10. Its about 3 or so hours away and a regular right of passage for 5 graders in our area b/c of the estuariam on the island. And the birds. The whole island is a bird sanctuary. Anyone know a good trick for getting bird poop off a tent?</p><p>Emma is pretty excited about camping. They allow fires there and the ocean is just steps away from our tent so, lots of fun for a curious little 3 yr old. It will be great to give her a few days of freedom and fresh air. For mama too! Now if I can just get the 16yr old to crack a smile all will be right with our world. </p><p>Hope you all have a great weekend too! </p><p style="font-size: 12px; font-family: Georgia;">**NOTE My shop will be open while I'm gone, and I'll be answereing convos if I can, but nothing will ship until after the 9th. Thanks!</p></div>
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    <entry>
        <title>Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was...</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-63619267</id>
        <published>2009-03-03T21:37:03-08:00</published>
        <updated>2009-03-03T21:40:48-08:00</updated>
        <summary>Today was one of those days that just doesn't seem to ever end. I'm pretty accustomed to being a bit behind with everything but I've gotten seriously behind and today its become too apparent for even me to ignore. The...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>andrea thurber</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Life in the burbs" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Ramblings" />
        
        
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<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>Today was one of those days that just doesn't seem to ever end. I'm pretty accustomed to being a bit behind with everything but I've gotten <em>seriously</em> behind and today its become too apparent for even me to ignore.</p><p> The laundry pile on my dresser that I am refusing to look at even though I cant really see the wall behind it any longer? It fell. On my daughter. Evidently a stuffed cat of hers had somehow become buried or tunneled in or whatever, but she saw the tail and tugged. Honestly, I couldn't find her for a minute. I could hear her screaming but I couldn't tell where she was because it was so muffled. By the giant pile of neglected laundry. It was clean laundry though, so no worries. Eventually our cat sniffed her out and I just grabbed a foot and tugged. She popped right out. The laundry is still there, looking smug.  Drat. Now that I know its dangerous I'm going to have to fold that stuff. </p><p>Tuesday is dance night, which roughly translates to - scrounge around for a pair of tights that don't have holes or dirty knees, stuff wriggling 3 yr old into said tights, frantically look for tutu that was under 3 yr olds bed where she stuffed it so I wouldnt know she was playing with her dance tutu thats supposed to stay in her dance bag. Scrounge for a pair of gym pants for me (because dance class is thankfully at our gym) that simultaneously make me look amazingly fit and have that "these old things?" vibe. Stuff something resembling a healthy meal for my daughter into her bag since she will insist on staying a "super long time" in the daycare room at the gym after class where she eats more of her dinners than I think I'm willing to admit. Bundle up, drive to gym, strip bundles off mama and twirling toddler, wish for spring, rinse, wash, and repeat. Long story short, I'm pooped. No, I'm super long time pooped.</p><p>My baby girl is amazingly sweet though and that sometimes makes up for everything. The girls line up on the wall when dance class is over and wait while all the moms come in to chat with the teacher. Tonight though, Emma broke rank and ran over to me to give me a leg hug and kiss and tell me, b/c I hadnt heard it in 45 minutes,  "I lub you mama" before running back over to stand sweetly in line with the other girls. Melt. </p><p>I was so touched that I forgot, for the whole ride home- all 7 minutes, about the lurking piles of stuff waiting at home. I'm behind on my orders, my goals list, housework (okay, I dont actually do housework much, but I'm behind on even feeling guilty about it), products that need photographed, my to do list, my might actually do list, eating food....you get the idea. </p><p>Thankfully the day has finally come to a much anticipated end, even though that damn lambchop song is stuck in my head now, I'm grateful for all the wonders this and every day has brought . I'm off to bed for some much needed beauty sleep. Wish me luck, I have to get past that dangerous laundry avalanche to get to my bed. I hope my husband made it okay...</p></div>
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    <entry>
        <title>Rain rain go away</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-63439829</id>
        <published>2009-02-27T13:21:04-08:00</published>
        <updated>2009-02-27T13:22:17-08:00</updated>
        <summary>The universe is throwing a wrench in all of my plans lately. I've been mentally recounting the past few weeks and I'm fairly sure that this animosity is completely without karmic cause. When our son was younger we would all...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>andrea thurber</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="What I'm thinking" />
        
        
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<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>The universe is throwing a wrench in all of my plans lately.  I've been
mentally recounting the past few weeks and I'm fairly sure that this
animosity is completely without karmic cause.</p><p>When our son was younger we would all stay at the State Park Campground when we went to the beach each year. It was cost effective and our son loved all things crawly and creepy so he loved it. For the past five years or so we've rented a beach house for the week instead, an upgrade I wholeheartedly approved of. I wilt in the heat, you know. Spurred by some nostalgia, my hubby recently brought home a new tent. The big family kind with rooms and a screen porch. No doubt he knew there wasn't a chance in hell of getting me to camp out in our old tent. That thing weighed roughly as much as a baby elephant and took about half a day of arguing to get it vertical.  We actually dented the hood of our car one year when we dropped one of the poles while trying the pitch the thing after dark and spent the rest of the night up arguing over who's fault it obviously was.  Good times. </p><p>So long story short, we planned a little outdoorsy getaway this weekend. But instead of loading the car up with marshmallows and sleeping bags, we're under quilts on the sofa watching the weather alerts and listening to the sirens wailing away. Severe thunderstorms and flash flood warnings. Thanks Mother Nature. </p><p>I had planned on updating my shop today also. I have a pile of new items to photograph but since I take my photos outside it seems they are going to have to sit there for a few more days. The weatherman says things will brighten Sunday, so look for a shop update Monday morning. </p><p>I'm thankful for our warm home and my favorite blanket but my heart is dreaming of spring. What are you wishing for today?</p><p /></div>
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    <entry>
        <title>Hello Blog</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-63342963</id>
        <published>2009-02-25T12:40:47-08:00</published>
        <updated>2009-02-25T12:43:58-08:00</updated>
        <summary>I woke this morning with an unusually clear mind and full of that rare feeling of possibility. My brain was buzzing with ideas, some really good ones at that. Even my body felt refreshed, rare for me since "not a...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>andrea thurber</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="What I'm thinking" />
        
        
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<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>I woke this morning with an unusually clear mind and full of that rare feeling of possibility. My brain was buzzing with ideas, some really good ones at that. Even my body felt refreshed, rare for me since "not a morning person" doesn't even begin to cover my feelings on the subject. I thought to myself that this day must surely be blessed, destined for some unknown greatness. I wondered if someone thought it would be funny to slip me an espresso in my dreams because, hot damn, I was ready to greet this day with enthusiasm!</p><p>Then I saw the clock. 3:17. What the hell? </p><p>Is this some sort of cosmic funny at my expense? I spent the next hour or so flopping around trying to find that sweet spot that would lull me back to sleep but it had already gone for the day. I tried some deep breathing, but the cats heard my stirring and started scratching at the door thinking it was their lucky day, "early breakfast today, yippie!". At some point I woke my hubby who wasnt exactly sympathetic since hes all stressed about his big job interview today. No snuggling me back to dreamland seemed likely I guess. </p><p>Check the clock. 4:55. Erg.</p><p>Half an hour more and I'm sick of laying there. With considerably less gusto, I rose to greet the day.  Unfortunately, now that my body is up, I feel the stiffness from yesterdays workout. And all those great ideas? Lost forever to that hazy place in time that is 3:00 am. All possibility and unknown greatness left in the dreamy haze of a forgotten nights sleep. Damn it. Poor lovely day, this is not how I wanted to greet you. We had such great plans! </p><p>A cup of tea and a little yoga later and the day seems salvagable. My first instinct was to pull up my email and start making the days lists. But my little blog seemed to tug at me.  My body isnt made to think clearly before dawn but I had an epiphany of sorts about this whole blogging thing. I'm having so much trouble with the whole darn routine and responsibility of a blog. </p><p>I'm an artist. Routine and responsiblity..not really my thing. </p><p>Then I thought, why does it have to be routine? Or a responsibility for that matter? I've treated the experience of blogging like a part of my business, and the business part of my business is, to put it mildly, not my favorite.  I've basically taken something that I should enjoy (read: talking about myself) and made it into this thing with walls and perimeters. One post a day, lots of pictures, be nice, not too personal. What the hell? That's not me at all! </p><p>As of now, I am saying hello to my NEW BLOG. Posts when they come to me, maybe three a day or three a month, but never forced from me because of some notion of how I should be blogging. Pictures often, but not required, sometimes words are all I have. I cant promise to always be nice, sometimes I swear and mix metaphors. I can promise to be authentic and probably a little kooky. Not to personal? Why the hell not? We need more daringly personal stories in this world. So, long rant short...Hello blog. Nice to meet you. We should get along nicely. </p></div>
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    <entry>
        <title>Flickr ♥ post and run!</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-62226728</id>
        <published>2009-02-01T10:15:50-08:00</published>
        <updated>2009-02-01T10:17:13-08:00</updated>
        <summary>Spiffy Spaces Originally uploaded by mexycan Instead of writing a post (or cleaning, or working, or paying any attention to my family whatsoever) this morning, I've been swooning and surfing flickr. My obsession today has been studio/crafting spaces. I love...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>andrea thurber</name>
        </author>
        
        
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<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/mexycan/2516941067/" title="photo sharing"><img alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2097/2516941067_74684afca1_m.jpg" style="border: 2px solid #000000; width: 337px; height: 337px;" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/mexycan/2516941067/">Spiffy Spaces</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/mexycan/">mexycan</a></span></div><p>Instead of writing a post (or cleaning, or working, or paying any attention to my family whatsoever) this morning, I've been swooning and surfing flickr. My obsession today has been studio/crafting spaces. I love all the color. This is way better than dishes. </p><p>Have a colorful, inspiring day!</p></div>
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