<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20144588</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:42:27.025-04:00</updated><title type='text'>TripTik Girl</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20144588.post-114382473874026069</id><published>2006-03-31T12:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T12:16:31.086-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Promises, Promises...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Okay, so I might not have been able to keep up with my Lenten promise to quit smoking, but I have been observing the "No Meat on Fridays" rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hasn't been too bad..except that today I was craving sausage for breakfast, and had to settle with a stale blueberry muffin. For lunch, I opted for the cafeteria's version of a fish fry, with this tasty dish:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/lunch.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;This is the 'Pub style Fish n' Chips'...of course, I've already eaten the chips part, so all that's left is some heavily breaded cod... not very appetizing! I guess I'll fill up with a couple of extra beers tonight! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20144588-114382473874026069?l=triptikgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/114382473874026069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20144588&amp;postID=114382473874026069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/114382473874026069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/114382473874026069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/2006/03/promises-promises.html' title='Promises, Promises...'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20144588.post-114150915359384233</id><published>2006-03-04T16:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-04T16:55:45.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love is in the air...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;We're going out tonight to celebrate the recent engagement of our friends Nora and Jamisen and I'm reminded of Marc's proposal almost 3 years ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Please join me as I travel back to May 10th 2003..............&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;I had gotten back from a work trip a couple of days earlier when Marc sprung weekend plans on me. We had been invited to a party at his boss's house..something I dreaded. It's not that I don't like the man, but when all I hear is Marc's bitching about him, it's hard to keep pleasant thoughts running through my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;    I woke up that Saturday dreading the worst. I was figuring that my period was a few days late which left me in a panic. I was at a point in my life where a baby wouldn't necessarily ruin my world, but did I really want to put the cart before the horse? My plans had always been to get married, then have the kids. I hadn't even finished school yet--something I had promised my parents when I moved in with Marc. I summoned the courage of Scarlett O'Hara and decided not to worry about it until tomorrow. Besides, I've been a couple of days late before with no disasterous outcome. I was probably just a bit tired and stressed from the work week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;    On the way to the party, Marc wanted to drive through the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" href="http://www.cr.nps.gov/nr/travel/detroit/d1.htm"&gt;Cranbrook campus&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt; where we had one of our first pseudo-dates (We met at community college in a Geology class. A project for class required us to go to the Science building at Cranbrook to identify some rocks). We hadn't been back to Cranbrook since and he thought it would be fun to reminisce.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;    We parked near the soccer fields where we had parked before (no, not that kind of parking!). I wasn't thinking anything was up. In fact, I was glad that we were wasting some time before the party--less time we had to spend there! Marc then suggested that we get out and sit on the large log that was serving as a parking block. Still, I had no idea what was about to happen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;As we sat watching some distant kids play soccer, he started to talk about the past 5 years and how happy he has been and how much he loves me. Slowly, he reached towards his pocket and my heart started beating so hard that I thought it might beat right out of my chest!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;He handed me a small white box and asked me to be his wife. I was in shock! There in front of me was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen...wait! Scratch that! Nestled in the plush velvet, was the ring I had fallen in love with a few months earlier while perusing a jewelry store for kicks with my sister. He &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt; paid attention!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;    My cheeks started to hurt and I realized that I had been grinning like the Cheshire cat. I told him "yes", but was immediately reminded of my late period. I pushed those thoughts aside as I tried on my new jewelry. Still grinnin' like a fool, I reminded him that we were going to be late, and did we really have to go to Ron's house? He then made my day for the second time--there was no party...it was just a ruse to get me out to Cranbrook without suspicion! I didn't know what I was happier about--becoming his wife, or not having to go to his boss's house!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;    We spent the rest of the day showing off my rock and ended at a bar, celebrating with some friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;3  years later and I still can get "perma-grin" thinking about that day...I love you, Marc!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/ring.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/ring.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/EmilyMarc3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/EmilyMarc3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20144588-114150915359384233?l=triptikgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/114150915359384233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20144588&amp;postID=114150915359384233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/114150915359384233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/114150915359384233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/2006/03/love-is-in-air.html' title='Love is in the air...'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20144588.post-114132598134472529</id><published>2006-03-02T13:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-02T14:01:51.623-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No Excuses</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Okay, so this "blogging every day" thing is kinda hard! But since I don't have much of a fan base, I don't feel so bad that I haven't posted anything in over a month! Sorry....I don't!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, your eyes are not playing tricks on you. The counter above is correct! I am, once and for all, done with smoking. I've finally reached that point in my life where my health is more of a concern than my enjoyment. That's right, I still enjoy smoking. I know it's disgusting and the amount of places where it's allowed has considerably shrunk...I still like it! But don't sue me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marc and I decided that we would go smoke-free for Lent, and by the end of the 40 days and 40 nights, we would have quit our nasty habit for good. This is day one, and I'm already tired of the Wint-O-Green mints I've been popping every few minutes. At least my breath is minty fresh! And I thought that the irritible attitudes wouldn't happen for at least two or three days, but Marc and I were at each other's throats last night! So much so that we stopped talking to each other and went to bed super early.&lt;br /&gt;I can't WAIT to go home!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20144588-114132598134472529?l=triptikgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/114132598134472529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20144588&amp;postID=114132598134472529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/114132598134472529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/114132598134472529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/2006/03/no-excuses.html' title='No Excuses'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20144588.post-113743271330398647</id><published>2006-01-16T12:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T12:43:15.116-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple Happy Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;Fresh, laundry-scented sheets..right before bed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;No traffic on the way home from work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;A semi-truck flashing its lights at me because I allowed the driver to merge in front of me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;A new purse, bought on sale..and it rings up at the register for even cheaper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;An Ebay seller who ships promptly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;Finding the perfect greeting card&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;Blue medium-point pens &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;Watching Marc clean the bathroom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;A baby's laugh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20144588-113743271330398647?l=triptikgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113743271330398647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20144588&amp;postID=113743271330398647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/113743271330398647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/113743271330398647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/2006/01/simple-happy-things.html' title='Simple Happy Things'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20144588.post-113651405285066137</id><published>2006-01-05T20:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-05T21:31:36.063-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All American Resolutions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;It's that time of year again. The clock has struck 12 midnight, the ball in Times Square has dropped, kisses have been shared, champagne has been drunk...do you know what your New Year resolutions are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our rockin' New Year's Eve was not very rockin' this year. We decided to avoid the bars and stay off the roads, so we treated ourselves to a "surf n' turf" dinner: lobster tails and steaks on the grill. YUM! Delicious meal, followed by a new tradition**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The burning of the Christmas tree:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0178.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0177.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;Unfortunately, that day and night, Detroit had been experiencing usual rain so it took almost a 1/2 gallon of gasoline to get those sticks going. But once it was lit, it was a beautiful sight! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;Afterwards, we enjoyed some of Barbados' finest: Rum Punch! We brought it back from the honeymoon, and only now decided to drink it. I'm not sure if one should keep rum punch for 17 months, but it still tasted good and got me a good buzz! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 197px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="279" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0182.0.jpg" width="197" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;We think that looks like Eddie Murphy on the label, circa 'Coming to America'...what do you think? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;Marc and I went traditional with our resolutions this year: quit smoking, eat healthier and lose weight. I don't think we could call ourselves American if we didn't pick at least ONE of those! We're doing okay so far. We have been eating better, and for the past couple of days we've both been putting in about 10 minutes on our &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.searshomecenter.com/HomeCenter/prod_display1.asp?Product=34592&amp;partner=58&amp;amp;clktru=1"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;Gazelle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;...it's fun, and even better when you can watch TV while using it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish us luck with our resolutions! Happy 2006 to all! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;**I have to credit the idea of burning our tree to a forum friend: Husky! Thanks! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20144588-113651405285066137?l=triptikgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113651405285066137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20144588&amp;postID=113651405285066137' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/113651405285066137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/113651405285066137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/2006/01/all-american-resolutions.html' title='All American Resolutions'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20144588.post-113582353132659187</id><published>2005-12-28T20:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T21:32:11.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thaattt's allll Ffffolllks!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;When we lived in the condo, we didn't have room for a big Christmas tree, let alone a live one. Our gifts were embarassingly placed under a 2ft table-top tree that came with teeny-tiny lights and ornaments made for Barbie-sized people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year we bought a house and realized that we now had enough room for a real tree, albeit a small, real tree. I was finally able to rejoin my parents on their annual "tree-cutting-down-day", which is usually held the day after Thanksgiving. We drive 2 hours to BFE and drive up and down rutted, muddy lanes looking for The Perfect Tree. In the past, my mom has marked trees for return viewings with tissues, or even her gloves!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marc was unable to come with us last year, so it was a real treat to have him along this year. He had never cut down a Christmas tree before; his childhood was limited to plastic trees, or the sprayed kind you find in the parking lot of a seasonal ice-cream parlor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately it rained the entire time we drove around the tree farm, which didn't help the hunting. Thankfully we found 'our tree' quickly and Marc sawed it down before I changed my mind.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/tree2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;It was a pretty, little tree once we positioned it in the corner and decorated it with lights and ornaments from my childhood. Once again, Marc's childhood did not produce any memories that we could hang from the green branches.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0104.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;I was careful to water my tree each day, but after a few, I started noticing that the water level was remaining close to the top of the stand. And if you've ever had a real tree, you know that means one thing: The tree has stopped taking up water...it is close to drying out! Well, it was only mid-December when this started happening...our tree needed to make it 2 1/2 more weeks!! By Christmas Day, it was so dry that just breathing on it caused a shower of needles to hit the floor. I'm accustomed to leaving the tree up until after New Year's, but I just knew ours wouldn't make it much longer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;Today I began the tedious process of removing all the ornaments and I attempted to carefully unstring the lights. I started off gentle, trying not to cause a big mess, but that was hopeless. In no time at all, I was just ripping the light strands from the brittle branches. When I had finished and bagged up the remainder, this is what I found on the floor: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0174.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;Ahhh...what fun vacuuming I had! What made it even MORE FUN was the fact that I have berber carpeting, so lots of needles got embedded in the threads and would not come up! I was down on my hands and knees picking them out, one by one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;Next year, I think I may splurge and get one of those fake, pre-lit trees. That way next summer, I won't have to worry about stepping barefoot on one of those embedded needles! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20144588-113582353132659187?l=triptikgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113582353132659187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20144588&amp;postID=113582353132659187' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/113582353132659187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/113582353132659187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/2005/12/thaattts-allll-ffffolllks.html' title='Thaattt&apos;s allll Ffffolllks!'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20144588.post-113538832563617383</id><published>2005-12-23T18:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T20:55:47.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday Traditions</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;Every year my mom and my aunt (and lots of helpers) get together to make an Italian treat, called Penolata. Though, none of us are sure on the spelling or the origin. The one thing we are sure of is the recipe! There are precise instructions on how to make this dessert, and like most family recipes, it's never written down.&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully this year, I documented the process: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/Dough.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/Dough.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;First the dough is made--7 cups of flour and 1 dozen eggs for just ONE batch! The mixer belonged to my grandma (rest her soul) and it's over 50 years old! Why we don't use a newer one (like the never-used one I got for our wedding) is beyond me! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;Next comes the rolling. My aunt Nanny (hands on the left) is a professional roller! Of course this means she is forever showing us younger girls how thick or thin the dough should be. We'll learn some day!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0079.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="164" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0079.jpg" width="233" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0083.jpg"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;The dough strips are then layed out to dry a bit before cutting. If they're too wet they can't be cut into the proper size and shape. Once again, heritage is before us, with an old cloth that's used every year for the drying phase! I'm sure my sister and I will fight our cousins for it! :) &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0083.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="170" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0083.jpg" width="235" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0087.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 220px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 171px" height="162" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0087.jpg" width="197" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0083.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0083.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0083.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0087.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0083.jpg"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0087.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0087.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0087.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0087.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0087.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;The little pieces are then transferred to paper plates, which means there can be alot of confusion as to which plate belongs to which batch! Each family member gets a batch of penolata so it's important to keep track! Do you think we've figured out a system over the years? Of course not! It's more fun to yell: &lt;em&gt;"Is this batch 7 or 8?" "Wait! That's batch 6! Don't mix these up!"&lt;/em&gt; :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0080.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="201" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0080.jpg" width="260" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0086.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0086.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0082.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;The toughest part is next...the dough pieces are dropped into heated oil and once they start to puff up, you can't stop stiring for 5 minutes, or until they are a perfect golden brown. It's hard work and the it can get very heated in the kitchen. It's important to dress for the occasion! :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0082.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0082.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 260px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 203px" height="203" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0082.1.jpg" width="286" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/1600/IMG_0084.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 203px" height="220" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0084.1.jpg" width="304" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="177" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0081.0.jpg" width="255" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;The pieces are then set in paper bags to soak up extra oil before the finishing touches:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="198" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0085.0.jpg" width="276" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333399;"&gt;Finally, the night is over...the women meet back up a few days later to decorate the penolata with honey, nuts and chocolate bits. It can be frozen and served at a later time. In fact, while making the fresh batches, we snack on plates from last year! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1635/2008/320/IMG_0086.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20144588-113538832563617383?l=triptikgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113538832563617383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20144588&amp;postID=113538832563617383' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/113538832563617383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20144588/posts/default/113538832563617383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triptikgirl.blogspot.com/2005/12/holiday-traditions.html' title='Holiday Traditions'/><author><name>Emily</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
