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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEBSH49cSp7ImA9WhRaE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3767113041181137690</id><updated>2012-02-16T01:14:19.069-08:00</updated><category term="Animal Girl" /><category term="I want to go back to the kangaroos" /><category term="Past Adventures" /><title>Tuesdays with Tamra</title><subtitle type="html">About me, and my wanderlust.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://tuesdayswithtamra.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://tuesdayswithtamra.blogspot.com/" /><author><name>Tamra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10227786502557855788</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/SvCyR_e6TlI/AAAAAAAAAD4/mVCYR7l9jDI/S220/4944.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/TuesdaysWithTamra" /><feedburner:info uri="tuesdayswithtamra" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUESX04fip7ImA9WxNUEkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3767113041181137690.post-8279920896228349370</id><published>2009-11-02T16:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T19:00:08.336-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-02T19:00:08.336-08:00</app:edited><title>Me, Tamra</title><content type="html">My name is Tamra. This is me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su97VK5xsEI/AAAAAAAAABc/-hnYhKsO-pg/s1600-h/Photo+13.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su97VK5xsEI/AAAAAAAAABc/-hnYhKsO-pg/s400/Photo+13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399670081874669634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I took this picture just now, just for you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some important people in my life include my mommy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su98LPY_ppI/AAAAAAAAABk/Yxts1hIxgs8/s1600-h/IMG_0552.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su98LPY_ppI/AAAAAAAAABk/Yxts1hIxgs8/s400/IMG_0552.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399671010792285842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Also, that's my dog! Her name is Zoey and I love her.&lt;br /&gt;Aren't my pink and orange walls awesome? They have&lt;br /&gt;since been painted red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;My dad:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su99K3h-l3I/AAAAAAAAABs/2xZTWwY959M/s1600-h/scan_7118155454_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su99K3h-l3I/AAAAAAAAABs/2xZTWwY959M/s400/scan_7118155454_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399672103899142002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He died when I was nine as a result of being an&lt;br /&gt;alcoholic and having diabetes. This did not make my&lt;br /&gt;mom a single parent, however, they got divorced when&lt;br /&gt;I was tiny. I can't really remember him that much,&lt;br /&gt;but I do know he was a really fun guy. I also know that&lt;br /&gt;he wasn't an amazing father, or he would have ditched&lt;br /&gt;the booze like my mom asked him to before the divorce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;This resulted in me having sort of a surrogate father, this guy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su9-v2VHJ0I/AAAAAAAAAB0/-F8fBBWO0z4/s1600-h/DSCN0007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su9-v2VHJ0I/AAAAAAAAAB0/-F8fBBWO0z4/s400/DSCN0007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399673838743529282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Uncle Mikey. Well, I don't think he prefers to be called&lt;br /&gt;that. Actually, I think he does, only secretly. And only&lt;br /&gt;by me. This guy did what my dad couldn't do, and&lt;br /&gt;without being asked. He quit drinking after he realized&lt;br /&gt;what it was doing to his family, namely his only son,&lt;br /&gt;Jordan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;This is Jordan:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-ARrlNcwI/AAAAAAAAAB8/4UeayTgkjDM/s1600-h/DSCN0053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-ARrlNcwI/AAAAAAAAAB8/4UeayTgkjDM/s400/DSCN0053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399675519485440770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The older one, on the right, not the one in the middle.&lt;br /&gt;I'll talk more about that little guy in a minute. Jordan is&lt;br /&gt;kind of a scaredy cat, as a result of who knows what.&lt;br /&gt;He is ten now, almost eleven. He is afraid of rides at&lt;br /&gt;Disney Land, for example the It's a Small World ride.&lt;br /&gt;He and I don't have a very good relationship anymore.&lt;br /&gt;This makes me sad, because we used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;This is Jordan's mom:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-C0OUxbFI/AAAAAAAAACE/Yq1lRH7R1Rs/s1600-h/IMG_1738.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-C0OUxbFI/AAAAAAAAACE/Yq1lRH7R1Rs/s400/IMG_1738.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399678311950543954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is a terrible picture of her. Sorry Gabby. She's&lt;br /&gt;actually gorgeous, but I guess it's hard to be gorgeous&lt;br /&gt;and a mom to two boys. Now who's that adorable thing&lt;br /&gt;in her arms?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Him? Oh, that's just the love of my life, Kyler:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-D2KDQNSI/AAAAAAAAACM/GgIoxxv3xXs/s1600-h/IMG_0105.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-D2KDQNSI/AAAAAAAAACM/GgIoxxv3xXs/s400/IMG_0105.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399679444674688290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cute little guy, right? He is also hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;He's four now. I named him. And I love&lt;br /&gt;him more than any one person on this&lt;br /&gt;planet, I'm pretty sure. To clear things up:&lt;br /&gt;he is Gabby's son, but not my uncle&lt;br /&gt;Mikey's. This complicates things, because&lt;br /&gt;my uncle Mikey can seriously be a jerk.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not kidding. He once helped raise his&lt;br /&gt;wife's son, Jesse, who was also not his son.&lt;br /&gt;And Jesse turned out to be a not-so-nice&lt;br /&gt;person (he's my age now) and also rather&lt;br /&gt;needy, financially speaking. Even after my&lt;br /&gt;uncle and his wife got divorced, Jesse&lt;br /&gt;kept being needy, and a not-so-nice&lt;br /&gt;person, towards my uncle. SO in closing&lt;br /&gt;my uncle is kind of wary as far as the&lt;br /&gt;helping raise other peoples' kids thing&lt;br /&gt;goes, and is determined NOT to be a dad&lt;br /&gt;to Kyler at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Except sometimes I catch him. Doing stuff like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-FXitfdzI/AAAAAAAAACU/22jrOKwqEe0/s1600-h/IMG_0109.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-FXitfdzI/AAAAAAAAACU/22jrOKwqEe0/s400/IMG_0109.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399681117741610802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even sweeter, this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-FvB3_-gI/AAAAAAAAACc/l_tpwW7FTrE/s1600-h/DSCN0018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-FvB3_-gI/AAAAAAAAACc/l_tpwW7FTrE/s400/DSCN0018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399681521244174850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, that lady on the right is not just some random castle-watcher. She's my grandma, Cece:&lt;br /&gt;and I decided I didn't want to put a picture of her up. Mostly because she is an amazing, highly regarded lady in our community, and I want to tell you about who she really is. My grandma is an alcoholic. She passed down this little trait to my mom and my mom's little brother, my uncle Mikey. They both decided to end the cycle (my mom when she was pregnant with me, and my uncle when Jordan was 2) and are incredibly strong people. They wanted to be good role models for their children, and they are. Which is why my mom was so shocked when I did this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-RRait4sI/AAAAAAAAACk/RtHasNkaFDo/s1600-h/DSC00126.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-RRait4sI/AAAAAAAAACk/RtHasNkaFDo/s400/DSC00126.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399694206609253058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Why yes, that is me with a bottle of Bacardi Orange in&lt;br /&gt;my hand, thanks. That was my 17th birthday. My mom&lt;br /&gt;put a lot of effort and money into this party. We happen&lt;br /&gt;to be in the nicest limo in Anchorage, Alaska, a stretch&lt;br /&gt;hummer limo to be exact. We were on our way to a foam&lt;br /&gt;party at a local underage club. We ended up getting&lt;br /&gt;caught, and we all got in a lot of trouble. Since then I&lt;br /&gt;stopped binge drinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;A couple other important people in my life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-SYWeZsnI/AAAAAAAAACs/PUrx6_1eFls/s1600-h/l_a99581f2c3cc42709bed3169a48ffc36.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-SYWeZsnI/AAAAAAAAACs/PUrx6_1eFls/s400/l_a99581f2c3cc42709bed3169a48ffc36.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399695425288122994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My best friend in the entire effing world, Kelsey. I&lt;br /&gt;usually call her Kels, because that's what I've called her&lt;br /&gt;since we were little. We've known each other since our&lt;br /&gt;mothers met in Lamaze class (and we weren't born yet)&lt;br /&gt;and I was born on Kelsey's due date and she was born&lt;br /&gt;on mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I remember her looking more like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-TmftF4aI/AAAAAAAAAC0/SUQm55wdx4M/s1600-h/IMG_0249.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-TmftF4aI/AAAAAAAAAC0/SUQm55wdx4M/s400/IMG_0249.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399696767795454370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And not such a hottie like she is now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;This is my best friend in Anchorage:&lt;br /&gt;(I moved to Anchorage when I was 14, from Juneau. Juneau is where all my family but my mom lives).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-U9QnrPKI/AAAAAAAAAC8/O_ASenOVlWw/s1600-h/l_ff3f16b03a09e07277b950713d06c3c8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 368px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-U9QnrPKI/AAAAAAAAAC8/O_ASenOVlWw/s400/l_ff3f16b03a09e07277b950713d06c3c8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399698258394823842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is Gina. We're really good&lt;br /&gt;friends because we have so much&lt;br /&gt;in common, sometimes it seems&lt;br /&gt;like we're the same person. Gina&lt;br /&gt;partly inspired the title of my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;This is my best friend at Northern Arizona University, where we're freshmen (and roommates):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-WDXOd0kI/AAAAAAAAADE/pSwXMCsLNxw/s1600-h/IMG_2866.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-WDXOd0kI/AAAAAAAAADE/pSwXMCsLNxw/s400/IMG_2866.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399699462758978114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Christi. We're good friends I think&lt;br /&gt;because we both have deeper opinions&lt;br /&gt;and thoughts than others our age,&lt;br /&gt;and we usually agree. We also both&lt;br /&gt;like to complain a lot, and we're messy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;I mentioned earlier that Gina partly inspired the name of this blog. That's because of this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-Zl4uvrRI/AAAAAAAAADM/X2umQixn8io/s1600-h/12-04-07_1546.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su-Zl4uvrRI/AAAAAAAAADM/X2umQixn8io/s400/12-04-07_1546.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399703354403171602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That's Gina and I being goofballs on a Tuesday. How do&lt;br /&gt;I know it's a Tuesday, you ask? Well, that's because we&lt;br /&gt;go to McDonalds EVERY Tuesday. Before I left for&lt;br /&gt;college, at least. We order the same thing, every time. It&lt;br /&gt;is pretty silly, but it's a tradition and it's fun. So I love&lt;br /&gt;Tuesdays because of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Have you read the book &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tuesdays-Morrie-Young-Greatest-Lesson/dp/0385484518"&gt;Tuesdays with Morrie&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I love that book. It is about a journalist who learns a lot of lessons from an old man. My life, well at least I hope one day it will be, revolves around teaching. I love working with children, and I am currently majoring in Elementary Education. I am also a nanny (a currently unemployed nanny, nonetheless I am a nanny). Working with kids and sharing my stories and experiences (maybe even wisdom!) is the best feeling ever to me. I'm not saying you are going to learn anything extremely profound from my blog, but that's why it's called Tuesdays with Tamra. Oh, also because I'm going to try to write every Tuesday. That's not a promise, maybe I'll miss a Tuesday or maybe I'll feel the need to write something on say, a Sunday. I am going to try to write at least once a week though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3767113041181137690-8279920896228349370?l=tuesdayswithtamra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qrBYdm1oDO2kpul15iFmVREWmgU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qrBYdm1oDO2kpul15iFmVREWmgU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/TuesdaysWithTamra/~4/x2P_phNW7k8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://tuesdayswithtamra.blogspot.com/feeds/8279920896228349370/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://tuesdayswithtamra.blogspot.com/2009/11/me-tamra.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3767113041181137690/posts/default/8279920896228349370?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3767113041181137690/posts/default/8279920896228349370?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TuesdaysWithTamra/~3/x2P_phNW7k8/me-tamra.html" title="Me, Tamra" /><author><name>Tamra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10227786502557855788</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/SvCyR_e6TlI/AAAAAAAAAD4/mVCYR7l9jDI/S220/4944.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su97VK5xsEI/AAAAAAAAABc/-hnYhKsO-pg/s72-c/Photo+13.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://tuesdayswithtamra.blogspot.com/2009/11/me-tamra.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEUFSH0yfyp7ImA9WxNUEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3767113041181137690.post-4243371832429504354</id><published>2009-11-02T15:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T13:03:39.397-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-03T13:03:39.397-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Past Adventures" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="I want to go back to the kangaroos" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Animal Girl" /><title>Numba One</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;Recently, I have become an avid blog reader. Mainly because I like to read stories, and I have an unnaturally light schedule as a freshman in college with little to no friends, which equals a lot of boredom/free time. So, when I started researching schol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;arships for students with plans to study abroad, the very first one I found required a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt; blog. SO here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt; we are.&lt;br /&gt;I want to study abroad because I grew up i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;n Alaska, and though a lot of people think that is super sick, I didn't get out of the country as much as I would like. I want to be one of those people who, while at dinner with pe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;ople the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;y have never met, can say, "Name ANY place in the world. I betcha I've been there."&lt;br /&gt;Then my new friends will say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;"Umm, w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;ell how about Yorkshire, England?"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;I'll reply smugly, "Yup."&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;"Fairbanks, Alaska?"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;"Yeeah, before I was able to talk!"&lt;br /&gt;"Sydney, Australia?"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;"Yes ma'am!"&lt;br /&gt;And then they'll realize how amazingly awesome I am, and how they want to be my best friend. The truth is, I actually HAVE been to all those places. Yes, I probably have traveled a lot more than you had at age 18. Until I was 14, the only countries I had ever been to were Canada (like 75% of Alaskans) and Mexico &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;(like many upper-middle class Americans). Then I went to Australia with a pretty sweet &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;group calle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;d&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt; &lt;a href="http://www.peopletopeople.com/Pages/default.aspx?WT.srch=1&amp;amp;gclid=COXarKe77Z0CFRQhnAodhFlGPQ"&gt;People to People.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; font-family: arial;"&gt;We spent time with some kangaroos,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su9tOqjAJtI/AAAAAAAAAAc/9ZRSaDzNngE/s1600-h/IMG_1804.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su9tOqjAJtI/AAAAAAAAAAc/9ZRSaDzNngE/s400/IMG_1804.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399654576947209938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's me, on the right, in the pink!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;went surfing on real Australian beaches,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su9uhqOC2EI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ycQv-K3sWCs/s1600-h/DSCF0352.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su9uhqOC2EI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ycQv-K3sWCs/s400/DSCF0352.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399656002788448322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, actually I was deathly ill that day and so I took pictures of other people surfing (and being taught by a former model named Paul).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;and my favorite part, stayed with an Australian family!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su9vOTVPkcI/AAAAAAAAAAs/GcWk34qPbVk/s1600-h/IMG_1846.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su9vOTVPkcI/AAAAAAAAAAs/GcWk34qPbVk/s400/IMG_1846.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399656769738740162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, Pam and Dave. They called me Treasure, put snacks in my bag, and had tons of cute questions like "Did they just place an African American in your group to fill a quota, or are there actually REAL African Americans in Alaska?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It was a really amazing trip.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: arial;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su9wzFDaw0I/AAAAAAAAAA0/minHGPT7n08/s1600-h/IMG_1878.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su9wzFDaw0I/AAAAAAAAAA0/minHGPT7n08/s400/IMG_1878.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399658501072667458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our bus driver stopped at this amazing park so we could take cool pictures like this. There were a lot of newlyweds taking pictures, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;After that trip, I got what you might call "wanderlust." I got a job, hoping to save enough money to travel the world, and instead spent all of it filling up the tank of my Jeep Grand Cherokee and clothes from Abercrombie and Fitch. (Side Note: I have since gotten better taste in clothing and sold most of my Abercrombie clothing to Plato's Closet)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The next big trip I went on was to the UK with my best friend, Kelsey. The idea started as a joke, she asked if  I wanted to go to Europe over the summer with her and her friend Sara (I had never met Sara, and I haven't since. I kind of don't think she exists). In the end, Sara apparently spent all of her money on a new phone so we went alone. I ended up planning the entire trip, which was fine, because if I had left it to Kelsey we would have been wandering Dublin, hitchhiking to London the whole time. In the end, it was a super fun trip (and we didn't hitchhike once).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su927azMFRI/AAAAAAAAAA8/wLB7gv6ie5A/s1600-h/l_76e734ee3a624f66904c706ca0cd1fb5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su927azMFRI/AAAAAAAAAA8/wLB7gv6ie5A/s400/l_76e734ee3a624f66904c706ca0cd1fb5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399665241418896658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This was the Avalon House, dumpy place number one we stayed at. I ended up liking it quite a bit though. It had... we'll call it character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su93uqNQmtI/AAAAAAAAABE/fWc9uRIU9Z4/s1600-h/l_e8c84eae8c674181ab11966438386c05.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su93uqNQmtI/AAAAAAAAABE/fWc9uRIU9Z4/s400/l_e8c84eae8c674181ab11966438386c05.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399666121728105170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Cliffs of Moher! I almost passed out here because Kelsey insisted that we try and hike to the cliffs. Let's just say that's impossible, even when you have more than 2 ounces of water between two people. By the way, I'm taller than her. I was slouching so you could see the cliffs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su942t6ojqI/AAAAAAAAABM/nRlubovuA7o/s1600-h/l_8a38126fe14445b899d6a7deb01981e7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su942t6ojqI/AAAAAAAAABM/nRlubovuA7o/s400/l_8a38126fe14445b899d6a7deb01981e7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399667359674306210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This castle was sah-weeet! Mostly because we were allowed to climb around inside it with no extra charge. It's the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urquhart_Castle"&gt;Urquhart Castle&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su95neiZl-I/AAAAAAAAABU/jTVUyC9gw7Y/s1600-h/l_646a2d4574174e419604ca61ad7faf43.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QPxcgFfQ2lk/Su95neiZl-I/AAAAAAAAABU/jTVUyC9gw7Y/s400/l_646a2d4574174e419604ca61ad7faf43.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399668197359720418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This might be the coolest picture I have ever taken. That's Neil Young and Paul McCartney for those who (leave now if you) don't know. They sang "A Day in the Life" together. This was in London.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3767113041181137690-4243371832429504354?l=tuesdayswithtamra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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